AN: Thanks to Jasperbells and Pastiche Lethe for beta-ing. And thanks to kittycat1980, Solar571, and niffs178 for reviewing.
I knew I should have stopped Charlie from bringing me to the hospital. There is nothing physically wrong with me. So what if some of my clothes no longer fit me? I only noticed when Charlie pointed it out to me. See- if I didn't realise it myself then it's not important. Charlie should know better than to comment on a girl's weight anyway.
All throughout the car ride I kept thinking to myself "I want my bed". Then again, I probably didn't want my bed that much if I couldn't even say it. Leaving the house took a lot of effort, which might be why I fell asleep in the car. Maybe I should have eaten that sandwich yesterday instead of feeding it to the birds. Walking out of the house earlier, I could see pieces of it still on the lawn. On second thought, it's just as well I didn't eat it. It couldn't have tasted that great if even the birds didn't want it.
I don't remember how long we've been sitting in this waiting room for. I couldn't even tell you what day it is… Wednesday, maybe? No, I think its Thursday.
Charlie has learnt not to bother making conversation with me, so we both wait quietly together. I glance over at him and see that he's flicking though some magazine. It looks like a fishing one. He's too immersed in it to even hear his name being called.
"Charlie?"
I hear it though. I look over in the direction it's coming from, and gasp.
A man walks towards us, wearing a white coat. I assume he's a doctor. Either that or he likes to dress up as one. He's incredibly handsome, in an older guy sort of way. Although, he doesn't really look old enough to be a doctor. His hair is blonde and suits the paleness of his skin tone. Wow… he may be even paler than me.
He reaches us and stands in front of my father. I can only seem to stare at him. Charlie must realise that there is someone stood before him as he looks up from his magazine. Placing it on the chair next to him, he stands up to greet the man.
"Carlisle. It's good to see you. Thanks for fitting us in on such short notice."
"It's no problem at all, Charlie."
He turns to looks in my direction.
"You must be Isabella."
I can't even bring myself to correct him. I hate being called that.
"Uh, should we…?" Charlie begins. I guess he was expecting me to say hi or something. Too late now.
"Why don't we go to my office?" Carlisle asks as he smiles at me.
That smile… I think my heart just skipped a beat. I hope I'm not blushing.
"Yeah, sure," replies Charlie.
I move to stand up as I'm assuming I'll have to follow them. My knees give way before I can make it all the way up. I land back on the seat. I guess I'm weaker than I thought.
"Bella, are you okay?" Charlie hurriedly asks as he comes to my side. I nod in response.
Great, I must look like an idiot in front of Carlisle.
Charlie takes my hand in his as I attempt to stand again. I make it this time, no thanks to Charlie who almost yanks my arm out of its socket as he tries to help me stand. I'm surprised I don't topple over.
"Are you going to be alright to walk, or would you like a wheelchair?" asks Carlisle.
I am not using a wheelchair! To answer him, I begin to walk in the direction that Carlisle came from.
See? I'm just fine.
Carlisle and Charlie quickly catch me up. Charlie walks closely by my side as Carlisle leads the way.
Walking behind him gives me a nice view, I notice. Now I feel like a pervert. What's wrong with me?
It takes a bit of time, but I make it to Carlisle's office. It has his name on the door, Dr Cullen. I guess that's what I should call him.
"Please, take a seat," Dr Cullen instructs.
Charlie guides me towards one of the chairs in front of Dr Cullen's desk and sits in the one next to me. I hear Dr Cullen to the side of us. He walks over, bringing some instruments with him. I hope he's not going to use any of those on me.
"It's alright, Isabella. I might not need to use any of these," Dr Cullen says.
How did he know? Maybe he saw the expression on my face. I feel my heart beat return to normal as the anxiety I felt lessens.
He places the tray on the desk and takes a seat behind it, opposite me and Charlie.
"So, Isabella. Can you tell me why you're here today?" he asks.
Shouldn't he be asking Charlie that? He's the one that brought me here.
I look at Charlie who is gazing at me cautiously. When we make eye contact, he sighs, turns to Dr Cullen, and answers for me.
I've trained him well.
"It's like she's given up," Charlie tells him quietly.
Is that true? Have I really?
"What makes you say that?" questions Dr Cullen as he keeps his gaze on me. I feel like if I make eye contact with him then I won't be able to look away.
"She doesn't eat, she hardly drinks anything. She won't talk to me. I haven't seen her cry. I haven't seen her do anything! She just stays in her room and stares at the ceiling."
I think that's the most I've ever heard Charlie speak at one time. Shame I didn't want to hear any of it.
How does he know what I do in my room anyway? I don't just stare at the ceiling, do I?
"I see. Isabella, would it be okay if I weighed you and measured your blood pressure?" Dr Cullen asks.
What can I say to that? Nothing apparently as he takes my silence as a yes.
He comes to my side, helps me to stand, guides me over to the scales, and looks concerned when he reads the measurement. I realise that I haven't taken my eyes off his face. I tear my gaze from his bone structure and look at what he's seeing.
Oh, I think that's the lightest I've ever been. I really have lost weight.
He walks me back to the chair. Taking a blood pressure cuff from the desk, he wraps it around an exposed part of my upper arm and pumps air into it.
"A little on the low side," he murmurs when he's done. He removes the cuff and places it back down on the desk.
Returning to his seat, he makes what looks like some notes in a file.
"Have you been ill recently?"
I shake my head. I can answer that one.
He makes some more notes.
"Have you felt dizzy or fainted at all?"
Another no, although I guess I felt dizzy earlier. I'm okay now though.
He stands from his seat again and moves to my side. He crouches down so he's eye level with me.
Wow… I've never seen eyes that colour before.
"What is it, Carlisle?" asks Charlie.
"I'm just going to check for signs of dehydration."
He holds my hand in his. Holy crow that's cold! Releasing my hand quickly, he brings his up to my cheek. He pulls down on the skin under my eye gently. Once he's finished, he smiles at me and returns to his seat, adding notes to his file. When he finishes, he returns his gaze to me.
"Isabella. You're dehydrated, underweight, and you have poor circulation," he says,
Okay… I guess I didn't realise what I was doing to myself.
"If we're going to put a label on it, I think you're suffering from Pervasive Refusal Syndrome. It's more common in children, but can affect teenagers. I would recommend talking to someone, a therapist. Charlie told me about your mother. I'm very sorry for your loss."
Therapy? You've got to be kidding me, I don't need therapy!
"What is Pervasive…?" Charlie asks, struggling to name it.
"Refusal Syndrome," Dr Cullen finishes for him. "It's a form of eating disorder, usually triggered by a traumatic event. The individual refuses to eat, drink, talk, or care for themselves in other ways."
It feels like they're talking about me as if I'm not even here. It would be nice if I could leave now and return to the safety of my bed.
"Bella has an eating disorder?" asks Charlie, sounding shocked and confused.
"It would appear so. I'll provide you with a list of recommended therapists who specialise in it. In the meantime, I can prescribe a mild anti-depressant to help you to cope with recent events."
Charlie seems pleased that there is something that can be done for me. I, on the other hand, am not. I am not depressed! I won't take the pills. I'll refuse. And I am not going to see some therapist!
"Thank you, Carlisle. I appreciate it."
"Isabella? It is very important that you at least keep hydrated. Charlie, if Isabella collapses while at home I want you to bring her straight here. I'll just go and fill your prescription for you."
He leaves me alone with Charlie.
"Maybe now you'll start to get better," Charlie says to me.
Get better? The only way I see that happening is if I wake up from this nightmare. I just want my mom back. Can you do that, Charlie? No, I didn't think so.
We wait for Dr Cullen in silence.
"Here we are," he says upon his return.
He walks to my side and holds out the medication.
"The instructions on how to take them are on the label," he says as I take the container from him.
I don't care; I won't be taking them at all.
I stand up, fuelled by the growing frustration I've been experiencing since arriving in this room.
"Bella?" questions Charlie, sounding weary of what I'm doing.
I stare directly into Dr Cullen's beautiful eyes as I take the lid off the medication container. I tip it upside down so the pills fall to the floor.
"Bella!" shouts Charlie, getting to his feet.
"Its okay, Charlie," says Dr Cullen. He's smirking at me. I think he's trying to stifle a laugh. "I apologise, Isabella. I should have asked you if you actually wanted them in the first place."
Damn right you should have.
I look to the floor, careful not to step on the pills as I walk away from the chair. I can't be here any longer. I head towards the door.
"Carlisle, I'm so sorry," Charlie apologises.
I don't hear Dr Cullen's response as I'm already out of the door and walking back down the long hallway.
"Bella!" Charlie shouts as he catches up to me. "What were you playing at?"
I don't answer, obviously.
The ride home is quiet. I feel myself calming down after the ridiculous hospital appointment. I think I'm ready for a nap now. I'm feeling drained.
As soon as we enter the house, Charlie begins to talk. Couldn't he have said what he wanted to in the car? He had plenty of time.
"Bells, wait. I'm sorry for, uh, shouting at you… I guess I was surprised that you reacted at all to anything Carlisle said."
What did he expect me to do? I'm not depressed, and I don't have an eating disorder. There's nothing wrong with me.
"I've got to go to work. Will you be alright alone?"
He actually waits for an answer.
"Right… well, uh, I'll be going then. I'll also make some phone calls about getting you a decent therapist. Uh, Carlisle also recommended that you need a routine. I'm going to see if I can get you into school as soon as Spring break is over."
With that, he leaves.
I stare at the door that he left through, not sure what to do with myself. I no longer feel like taking a nap.
All the frustration of this morning has now left my body, making me feel weak. With a shock, I realise that this is the first time in a while that I've felt anything at all.
The main thing I do feel is pain… a pain in my chest where I feel like I have to hold myself together, a pain in my head signalling the beginnings of a headache, and a pain in my stomach from where it's so empty.
I'll show Charlie that I'm okay, that I don't need help. Then I can show him and Dr Cullen that they were both wrong about me.
I'm not giving up. Maybe I just forgot how to live without Mom.
I take a deep breath.
I can do this, one step at a time.
I head towards the kitchen in search for some orange juice.
I think I'm also in the mood for pop tarts. I wonder if Charlie has any.
AN: Worthy of a review?
Until next time...