Later that week, everyone began to saunter into the rec room where the meeting was set to take place. Peter was already sitting in his usual chair near the far wall. As he flipped through his notepad, Taylor took a seat as far away from him as possible. She had noticed him looking at her a few times earlier in the week that made her feel like he knew something was wrong and she did not want to get into any new territory today.

Putting his notes aside, Peter began the discussion. "Alright, well it looks like everyone is here. There's something that I know a few of you are concerned about and I think we should talk about that today. Does anyone want to start off?"

Everyone wearily glances around the circle at one another. After a brief awkward silence Peter smiles, stands, and paces around the group.

"Come on, you guys. Don't make me call you out. Alright, I'll sort of start it off. Taylor, some members of the group have come to me recently expressing their worry with your weight."

"My weight?" Taylor asks, knowing very well that she has lost some weight recently because she hadn't been eating.

"Yeah," Daisy speaks up. "I've noticed that you look really thin and I'm just afraid that you're developing a new problem."

"Just because I lost a little weight doesn't mean I have a problem," Taylor tries to defend herself.

"You hardly eat." Everyone looks at Scott, somewhat surprised that he spoke up about the subject. "I mean, you don't eat breakfast – "

"I've never eaten breakfast," Taylor interrupts.

"And what you do eat at lunch and dinner combined doesn't really seem like enough for even one meal," Scott says.

Taylor can feel all the eyes in the room burning into her skin. Peter takes his seat again and looks Taylor directly in the eyes from across the room. She looks away, somewhat embarrassed.

"We don't want you to feel like we're teaming up against you," Juliette says. "I know what it's like to have an eating disorder – "

"I don't have an eating disorder!" Taylor screams, immediately regretting her outburst.

Peter speaks calmly, trying to reassure her. "It's okay," he says. "No one is saying you do have an eating disorder for sure, but do you think it could maybe be a possibility?"

"No," Taylor insists.

Shelby starts to get more upset. "She layers her clothes," she sneers, "and you should see her arms. They literally look like sticks."

"Shelby, can you try talking like you aren't convicting her?" Peter doesn't want the discussion to go in the wrong direction because people start getting offensive.

"I'm not," Shelby persists, "but I think you should just know. I mean, it's colder out now so it makes sense to wear long sleeves and stuff, but when we're in the bathroom, I can't help but notice how skinny she is. I don't want anything bad to happen, that's all."

"Taylor, do you want to say anything?" Peter asks, hoping she can see their points.

Taylor only shakes her head. She wants the meeting to end immediately. She's never had the whole group concentrate so much on her since her first week at Horizon, and she did not enjoy it.

"We can talk alone in my office afterwards if you'd prefer," Peter suggests. Taylor still does not respond. Peter smiles, feeling somewhat defeated. "Alright," he says, "I guess group is over today. I appreciate everyone who participated. It's never easy bringing a new problem to light."

As everyone rises from their seats and starts heading towards the door, Taylor tries to slip into the group before Peter can call her out again. To her disappointment, however, he catches up with her.

"Taylor," he says while walking towards the door, "why don't we head over to my office together?"

She quickly tries to think up an excuse to get out of having to talk to him even more about her weight. "Well, I don't know if now is such a good time for me."

Peter knows what she is trying to do. "Why not? It's free time until dinner."

"I know, but I was going to…call…someone…or something." She knows he can see right through her but she is desperate.

"Well, I think it's important not to put this off, alright?" He gently insists. He reads the worry on her face and tries to comfort her. "It'll be okay," he says, putting a hand on her shoulder and guiding her towards his office.

They walk in silence. Taylor tries to plan out how she can explain her weight loss without him making too big of a deal out of everything. When they reach his office, he pulls out his keys and unlocks the door, motioning for her to go in before him. She sits on the couch, in the corner closest to the windows showing her the escape she was desperately wanting at that particular moment.

Peter closes the door and sits down behind his desk. He swivels in his chair, trying to decide how to go about the next conversation. He doesn't want to push her, but at the same time, he knows if he doesn't push her a little, she will never open up.

"So what did you think about group today?" He inquires.

"I didn't like it," she says plainly.

He chuckles. "Care to elaborate a little?"

"I don't like it when everyone focuses on me like that. I hate it," she says softly.

"But do you understand where they are coming from with their concerns?"

Taylor shifts uncomfortably on the couch. "Sure," she starts, "but I don't think it's fair for everyone to assume I automatically have an eating disorder."

"Well," Peter reaches for her file on his desk and flips through it. "You didn't come here with any reason for us to believe you had an eating disorder, and there's no history of it in your past."

"I know."

"Well, by your own admission you've been eating less. Do you know why?" He looks to her and patiently waits for an answer.

"I've just not been hungry, I guess." She doesn't want to talk to him with an attitude but she can't help it; the group meeting had gotten to her and she couldn't shake the annoyance.

"Have you been cutting yourself at all?" He bluntly asks.

"What?" She was not expecting this question.

"I was just thinking. In group Shelby mentioned how you always keep your arms covered – "

"I'm cold," she quickly injects.

"Alright," he says with a small smile, but then his face grows serious. "Would you roll your sleeves up then?" He leans forward in his chair and holds Taylor's gaze with his eyes.

"You want to look at my arms because of Shelby?" Her stomach starts sinking and she is afraid she will be sick.

"I just want to check and make sure we're still moving forward," he tries to reassure her. "I could understand if you aren't cutting anymore that you would still seek out another outlet, and that could lead to eating less."

"Oh," is all she can think of to say. "I think I'd rather not."

"What are you hiding, Taylor?" He knows exactly what she is hiding but does not want to come right out with any accusations.

"Nothing, I just don't want to be here right now. Can I please go?" She knows if she stays for much longer she won't be able to keep herself in check and she might start crying.

"I told you right from the start that I wouldn't push you to talk to me, but I feel like there's no other way. Your therapy is not progressing at the rate that I'd like, so now we're going to start something new. Okay?" He doesn't want to make her therapy sessions any harder than they have to be, but he realizes she needs some force. "But first I want to look at your arms, so roll up your sleeves."

Taylor trusts Peter, but he has such a serious look on his face that he usually doesn't show. She knows he will lose trust in her, but she can't find a way out of this situation. "Will you be mad?" She asks quietly.

"No," he says just as softly. "Disappointed and hurt, but never angry."

She stares out the window. Swallowing hard, she wonders how such a simple action can seem so difficult. She decides to roll up her sleeves as if she were ripping off a band aid. She quickly pulls the sleeves of her sweatshirt up before she can rethink it. She turns her arms over, baring the sliced undersides, scabbing and pink.

Peter takes her wrists in his hands. "Why did you do this?"

She doesn't want to answer but she knows he won't let her out of this. "I was having nightmares. Everynight. I couldn't sleep and I just got too frustrated." She finally looks at him. "I'm sorry."

"What were the nightmares about?" He feels her tense up as he continues to hold on to her wrists. She bites her lower lip and will not answer him. "How about telling me what you used to do this?"

Taylor shakes her head and pulls her arms away from his grasp.

"Look, Taylor, I can't let you go if I believe that you'll hurt yourself again; you know that." He sits back in his chair, picks up a notepad, and jots a few lines down.

"So what happens now?" She asks guardedly.

"Well, I'm going to take you over to the infirmary to get those cuts cleaned and to get an official weigh-in. And if you still won't tell me what you used on your arms, I'm going to have to put you on restriction and observation."

"What?" She sounds surprised, though she should have known to expect this.

"I can't let you keep doing this to yourself, Taylor." He puts his notepad down and stands, motioning for her to follow him out the door. "Come on."

She rises from the couch and meets him at the doorway. He waits for her to step out into the hallway first, but she hesitates. She turns to face him and asks, "If I tell you what I used, can I not go on observation?"

He looks right into her eyes. Crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway, he shrugs. "I guess."

"It was a pen cap. I'm sorry." She looks down at the floor and waits for his response.

"You did all that with a pen cap? Why?"

"I already told you." She does not want to go in detail, describing the very moments that keep her from drifting into what should be a safer consciousness.

"Right," he shifts his weight from one leg to the other, "the nightmares. Which you don't want to talk about? You sure?"

She nods, still not looking up at his face.

"Can I ask why?" He hopes she will give him a little something to go with.

"I can't. I'll start crying," she admits, immediately feeling her face turn a shade of red.

"Well, that's okay. I can think of plenty of worse things than crying, Tay." He speaks warmly and puts a hand on her shoulder, trying to make her eyes meet his.

She shakes her head again and moves out from under his hand. They walk down the hallway, sharing the same silence they entered with.