Pain. Burning pain tinged through Lizzie's muscles when she woke up the
next morning. Her legs and back and stomach ached, and the back of her head
was sore from where she'd fallen. She attempted to sit up. "Oww..." she
moaned as she discovered movement was painful.
Eventually, she shoved herself out of bed, though her legs seemed barely able to hold her up. "Maybe I overdid it a little bit..." she mumbled to herself. She found herself staggering over to the mirror, where she stared at her reflection. She looked into her own eyes, trying to understand what it was that made her feel so lousy inside. She wondered, too, why she looked so lousy on the outside.
Her knees were weak. Her stomach was growling. She'd slept in fairly late, but she still felt like going back to bed. She wanted to bury herself in her blankets, snuggle with her stuffed elephant, and sleep everything away. When she slept, she wouldn't have to think about school and food and her friends and her body. When she slept, she wouldn't be hungry, and she wouldn't feel her aching muscles. Wouldn't it be nice, she thought, to just give up on everything and sleep for as long as she could.
Part of her, however, was not quite defeated. The depression she had been inside for the past few weeks was beginning to tire her. Buried beneath all the emotional baggage she let herself wallow in, there was a maddening desire in her to go to the extremes. This was the part of her that was sick of the crap, sick of the insecurities and the hurting. She felt willing to do whatever it took to make it all go away. The rush of high she got from pushing herself was the kind of feeling that this part of her thrived on. Her muscles were still throbbing, but somehow she felt pleasure in the pain. There was some sort of empowerment she felt when she drove herself to extremes. It tore her mind away from depression and fed the part of her that was hungry to feel something new.
She went downstairs and made herself some eggs and toast; she hoped it would give her energy. Then she went to bathroom and vomited it all back up. She grabbed a bottle of water and headed out to the garage again. She started up the Treadmill, working her already sore legs. It was unbearably hot, and she started feeling that dizzy, exhausting sensation. She ignored all pain and discomfort and pushed herself. After an unreasonable amount of time on the Treadmill, she started doing crunches again. She tried push- ups, too. She tried every exercise she could remember from Girl's P.E., anything she could think of to keep her body moving. *Whatever it takes,* she thought to herself. *I'll do whatever it takes to stop feeling this way.*
* * * *
She kept up this rountine for the next few weeks. She flourished on the thrill of stretching her body to its absolute limits. She started depriving herself of sleep, even, to make more time for working her body. Whenever she started to slip into those dark feelings again, she would just call upon the rush of stressing her body.
She kept herself feeling "up" enough that she could start hanging out with Miranda and Gordo again. They welcomed her presence, which they had started to miss when she had begun avoiding them. It did not take them long to notice that something was very wrong with Lizzie. She had dark circles under her eyes, and she was rapidly losing weight. Even though she was all smiles and chipper attitude, she seemed jittery and constantly on edge. She made everyday things seem like nerve-racking trials. They tried often to get her to talk about it, but Lizzie would act as though they hadn't said anything at all.
One day, the three of them treated themselves to an assortment of smoothies at the Digital Bean. They were laughing and having fun, but Miranda and Gordo still noticed that Lizzie seemed slightly deflated. Her eyes wandered, as if she was drifting into another place. A sad, faraway place.
"I'll be right back guys," said Lizzie after finishing her second smoothie. "I've gotta go to the bathroom." She quickly moved from the table, a dazed look in her eyes.
Miranda and Gordo looked at each other. "Something's not right..." Gordo said softly. Miranda nodded and got up to follow Lizzie.
When she pushed open the door to the bathroom, the first thing she heard was a pained gagging noise, like someone was throwing up. Miranda could see Lizzie's bottom half on the floor in one of the stalls. She grew terrified and tried to open the stall. It was locked. She pounded on the door. "Lizzie, are you okay?" she cried.
The gagging stopped. It was silent for a moment. "Miranda..." Lizzie began. She was too tired to lie. "Don't worry, Miranda. I'm fine. Just leave me alone."
Miranda felt like she was going to cry. Something WAS wrong with Lizzie, and she began to realize it was much more serious than she and Gordo had thought. She felt bad, thinking she must have let her friend down if she had been unable to see that something was geniunely troubling her. She got down on her stomach and crawled under the door.
Lizzie tensed up. "Miranda, I said leave me alone."
"I've already left you alone too long," Miranda said. "What are you doing? What are you doing to yourself?"
Lizzie looked away. "It's just something I have to do."
Tears filled Miranda's eyes and she slowly wrapped her arms around Lizzie. "No. No. You never have to hurt yourself. There's no reason."
"You don't get it..." Lizzie tried to explain. Words failed her. Her mind was swimming in a dizzy sea, as if she were inside the muggy garage. She tried again to speak, but exhaustion swept over her. She felt the world turn faint and indistinguishable. Miranda tried to talk to her as she drifted, but Lizzie heard none of it as she passed out on the bathroom floor.
Eventually, she shoved herself out of bed, though her legs seemed barely able to hold her up. "Maybe I overdid it a little bit..." she mumbled to herself. She found herself staggering over to the mirror, where she stared at her reflection. She looked into her own eyes, trying to understand what it was that made her feel so lousy inside. She wondered, too, why she looked so lousy on the outside.
Her knees were weak. Her stomach was growling. She'd slept in fairly late, but she still felt like going back to bed. She wanted to bury herself in her blankets, snuggle with her stuffed elephant, and sleep everything away. When she slept, she wouldn't have to think about school and food and her friends and her body. When she slept, she wouldn't be hungry, and she wouldn't feel her aching muscles. Wouldn't it be nice, she thought, to just give up on everything and sleep for as long as she could.
Part of her, however, was not quite defeated. The depression she had been inside for the past few weeks was beginning to tire her. Buried beneath all the emotional baggage she let herself wallow in, there was a maddening desire in her to go to the extremes. This was the part of her that was sick of the crap, sick of the insecurities and the hurting. She felt willing to do whatever it took to make it all go away. The rush of high she got from pushing herself was the kind of feeling that this part of her thrived on. Her muscles were still throbbing, but somehow she felt pleasure in the pain. There was some sort of empowerment she felt when she drove herself to extremes. It tore her mind away from depression and fed the part of her that was hungry to feel something new.
She went downstairs and made herself some eggs and toast; she hoped it would give her energy. Then she went to bathroom and vomited it all back up. She grabbed a bottle of water and headed out to the garage again. She started up the Treadmill, working her already sore legs. It was unbearably hot, and she started feeling that dizzy, exhausting sensation. She ignored all pain and discomfort and pushed herself. After an unreasonable amount of time on the Treadmill, she started doing crunches again. She tried push- ups, too. She tried every exercise she could remember from Girl's P.E., anything she could think of to keep her body moving. *Whatever it takes,* she thought to herself. *I'll do whatever it takes to stop feeling this way.*
* * * *
She kept up this rountine for the next few weeks. She flourished on the thrill of stretching her body to its absolute limits. She started depriving herself of sleep, even, to make more time for working her body. Whenever she started to slip into those dark feelings again, she would just call upon the rush of stressing her body.
She kept herself feeling "up" enough that she could start hanging out with Miranda and Gordo again. They welcomed her presence, which they had started to miss when she had begun avoiding them. It did not take them long to notice that something was very wrong with Lizzie. She had dark circles under her eyes, and she was rapidly losing weight. Even though she was all smiles and chipper attitude, she seemed jittery and constantly on edge. She made everyday things seem like nerve-racking trials. They tried often to get her to talk about it, but Lizzie would act as though they hadn't said anything at all.
One day, the three of them treated themselves to an assortment of smoothies at the Digital Bean. They were laughing and having fun, but Miranda and Gordo still noticed that Lizzie seemed slightly deflated. Her eyes wandered, as if she was drifting into another place. A sad, faraway place.
"I'll be right back guys," said Lizzie after finishing her second smoothie. "I've gotta go to the bathroom." She quickly moved from the table, a dazed look in her eyes.
Miranda and Gordo looked at each other. "Something's not right..." Gordo said softly. Miranda nodded and got up to follow Lizzie.
When she pushed open the door to the bathroom, the first thing she heard was a pained gagging noise, like someone was throwing up. Miranda could see Lizzie's bottom half on the floor in one of the stalls. She grew terrified and tried to open the stall. It was locked. She pounded on the door. "Lizzie, are you okay?" she cried.
The gagging stopped. It was silent for a moment. "Miranda..." Lizzie began. She was too tired to lie. "Don't worry, Miranda. I'm fine. Just leave me alone."
Miranda felt like she was going to cry. Something WAS wrong with Lizzie, and she began to realize it was much more serious than she and Gordo had thought. She felt bad, thinking she must have let her friend down if she had been unable to see that something was geniunely troubling her. She got down on her stomach and crawled under the door.
Lizzie tensed up. "Miranda, I said leave me alone."
"I've already left you alone too long," Miranda said. "What are you doing? What are you doing to yourself?"
Lizzie looked away. "It's just something I have to do."
Tears filled Miranda's eyes and she slowly wrapped her arms around Lizzie. "No. No. You never have to hurt yourself. There's no reason."
"You don't get it..." Lizzie tried to explain. Words failed her. Her mind was swimming in a dizzy sea, as if she were inside the muggy garage. She tried again to speak, but exhaustion swept over her. She felt the world turn faint and indistinguishable. Miranda tried to talk to her as she drifted, but Lizzie heard none of it as she passed out on the bathroom floor.