"People are always selling the idea that people with mental illness are suffering. I think madness can be an escape. If things are not so good, you maybe want to imagine something better."

–John Forbes Nash, Jr.

Chapter 2: Hanna

This was not what the end of summer was supposed to be like. It was supposed to be chock-full of parties, booze, and boys. Instead Hanna Marin was curled up in the car, glaring out the window at the browning leaves of countless trees.

Trees, trees, and even more trees. So many trees the forest looked like a brown-and-green wall as the car zoomed past them. Hanna fumed, finding a sudden urge to jump out of the car and hack through those trunks with a giant chainsaw to get home.

Her short, wavy blonde hair fell in her face and she irritably pushed it back behind her ear. She had her arms crossed, her legs pulled up on the seat with her, and her forehead pressed against the cold window. She was so angry. Why hadn't her mom just pulled her up by the hair and dragged her to the car kicking and screaming in the middle of the night? At least then she'd know she wasn't going to Radley like a coward.

That morning, while eating breakfast, Ms. Marin told Hanna that she couldn't stand to watch her daughter slowly kill herself. In protest, Hanna showed her the bowl of Cocoa Puffs she was downing. However, ten minutes later, Ms. Marin proved her point by kicking in the bathroom door and finding Hanna with her head stuck down the toilet bowl.

"I eat enough," Hanna had fought as she, like an obedient puppy, followed her mom to the car with the small bag of belongings she was allowed to bring, which mostly included her designer clothes, Victoria's Secret lingerie, a Kate Spade purse, her stuffed dog from her childhood named Dot, and a "miniature" box of expensive jewelry. Ms. Marin told her, "They're going to take away your jewelry, Hanna, it's too sharp," but Hanna refused to believe they'd take away her precious things from a "mental patient."

"If they take it away, I'll just cause a tantrum and they'll realize how much crazier I'll be without my Dolce and Gabbana necklace and earring set," she spat. "After all, that is how you think of me, right? Crazy?"

Ms. Marin held the wheel tighter. "I don't think you're crazy, Hanna, I think you're sick." She glanced over at her daughter, at the shirt draping over her protruding ribcage and bony arms.

To Hanna, she looked like a normal girl, with fat in the arms and the stomach and the thighs. All she wanted was to lose a little bit more; that way she could show off the abs and biceps she'd been working so hard on at the gym.

But to any observer, those muscles Hanna believed she had were nonexistent, wasted away by the lack of nutrients she wasn't consuming. There was barely any trace of fat on her. The scariest part, to Ms. Marin, was her ribs. It was an image most people only saw during famines. And her baby girl didn't even realize it.

"I'm fine," Hanna hissed under her teeth. She only vomited her meals because she wanted to enjoy eating without having to worry about the calories—and, therefore, fat—it added to her body. "I'm perfectly healthy, I swear."

No one could blame Hanna for saying that. After all, she couldn't see what everyone else saw.

"You've passed out at home more than a couple times, Han," Ms. Marin whispered, afraid that her voice would crack and she'd cry and make her daughter angrier at her than she already was.

And Ms. Marin believed with all her heart that she was doing the right thing for Hanna, despite what Hanna thought of it. She could never forgive herself if she came home from work and Hanna hadn't left the bed all day because her refusal to eat or let her meals digest had killed her. She'd read of parents finding their children on the floor, overdosed on drugs; Ms. Marin did not want to be one of those articles in the paper everyone read and pitied. Hanna needed the help; help Ms. Marin couldn't properly give her.

"You need professional help" were Ms. Marin's final words in making her point. Hanna rolled her eyes and continued to melt the glass window with her glare.

Then a boyish face crept into her mind. "Did you at least tell Sean where you're taking me?" she snapped at her mother. She'd worked so hard to lose weight to even get him to look at her, and now that she's had him for a couple months, she wasn't about to let him go because her mom shipped her off to the psych ward.

Ms. Marin glanced at Hanna from the windshield. "Sean has expressed concern for you too, Han. He'll understand why you're here."

"Or he'll think I'm nuts for coming here and never speak to me again." She could handle everyone else at school thinking she was crazy when she didn't show up for the first day of school, but not her trophy boyfriend. As the "It" girl of Rosewood High, senior year was when she was going to dominate. Not anymore, she guessed. Maybe she could have a comeback story, bounce back when she returned and win everyone's vote for Prom Queen while working towards a 4.0 GPA, which was on her senior year bucket list.

"If he really wants you to get better, he won't think that." And that was the last conversation they had in the car.

Hanna held Dot closer as they passed the Radley gates and pulled up to the front door. There, a couple of orderlies were waiting, since Ms. Marin had given them the heads up that she was admitting her daughter that morning—an emergency, she said. She honestly was afraid that Hanna was going to drop dead any minute, considering her deteriorating body and the fainting and persistent vomiting Hanna thought Ms. Marin couldn't hear past the running faucet.

The orderlies were all smiley-and-rainbows as they helped Hanna with her bag—to immediately look through it and take out her jewelry. "Hey, I brought that for a reason!" Hanna growled, ready to pounce on them to retrieve her Vera Wang earring collection.

"We apologize, miss, but sharp objects are not allowed here," one orderly explained while the other finished patting down her designer sweaters and sweatpants and gave an "all clear" thumbs-up.

Heels clicking on the pavement, Ms. Marin approached after parking the car and kindly took the box of jewelry. "I'll take it back with me, then."

Sighing exasperatedly, Hanna stomped into Radley at her mom's heels and annoyingly snapped her gum while Ms. Marin signed paperwork. Disgusted by the ugly choice of wall color, she did a three-sixty studying the lobby, and shuddered at the wired age-old gates blocking the hallways to the patients' rooms. A scream echoed down one hall and Hanna nearly jumped out of her five-inch Manolo stiletto heels.

In a flash she was clinging to her mom's arm begging her to take her home. "I don't need to be in this psychotic nuthouse! Take me to a hospital! A psychic!" She meant psychiatrist, but it was close enough. "A voo-doo person! Just anywhere but here!"

Ms. Marin put an arm on Hanna's shoulder. "Calm down," she said as the nurse at the desk muttered something about upsetting the patients. "I chose this place because it's state-renown to have some of the best facilities for those suffering from eating disorders." She pulled her daughter into a hug. "I promise, if this place upsets you so much and you're not getting any better, I'll drive all night to pick you up. But you just need to give it a try. Trust me, if you follow what the doctors tell you, you can be out of here as early as a month."

Fuming, Hanna squirmed out of her mother's embrace and just stared at her, betrayed. With a huff she took her bag and followed the nurse to her room, leaving Ms. Marin standing in the lobby holding the jewelry box.

"The patients in this hall all suffer from some severe degree of anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, or both. It's not quite meal time yet, so they should all be in their rooms, including your roommate." The nurse smiled at Hanna as she pulled out her keys. "Bethany's a sweet girl. She's made a lot of progress. If you have any questions, she can answer them. Or, if you're uncomfortable with that, I'm the head nurse of this unit. My name is Debbie."

First Debbie knocked on the door, then she shoved the key into the lock. Hanna ran her palms over her pants and bit her bottom lip. "You lock the rooms?"

"No, not in this unit. But Bethany likes to. I hope you don't mind; she likes her privacy." With that, she pushed open the door.

A girl around Hanna's age, with half her golden locks swept into a bun, in a pink dress and a beige robe draped over her shoulders, glanced up from the book she was reading on her bed. A bright glimmer burst in her eyes, and she smiled widely. "You must be Hanna!" she fawned, then gave Hanna her hand. "I'm Bethany."

Forcing a grin, Hanna hesitantly took Bethany's hand and shook it. From head to toe, she didn't seem that skinny or sick; she really was on the end of recovery. However, white lines caught Hanna's attention. There, along her new roommate's arms and face, were what appeared to be scars.

"If I can help you in any way, I'd love to!" Bethany exclaimed, snapping Hanna out of her trance.

Before Hanna could open her mouth and respond, Debbie interrupted: "Well, I'll leave you two for now." She set a pair of slippers and a beige robe on the empty bed Hanna assumed was on her side of the room. "Meal time is in thirty minutes, so be ready." And she was gone, leaving Hanna alone with a seemingly nice and perky Bethany.

Welcome to Radley, Hanna thought as she exhaled the breath she didn't realize she was holding. As she unpacked, Bethany talked her ear off about some of the best food in the cafeteria.

It was ironic, all this talk about meal time in the eating disorder ward. Hanna wasn't planning on eating any of it.

…

Oddly peaceful dreams of shopping and Sean followed Hanna her first overnight stay at Radley Sanitarium. She was right; she hadn't eaten the food at dinner. Not that it was unexpected in that unit. The doctors made the patients start with smaller portions so their stomachs could get used to it again, but didn't expect the newest patients to start eating right away. However, she'd been forced to down some Jell-O; but to Hanna, that barely counted as food.

She'd vomited it before bed anyway, even though it was sugar free.

That moment is what made Hanna begin to question whether what she was doing was healthy or not. Why throw up calorie-less Jell-O? Was it truly a habit she hadn't realized she'd picked up?

A coldness crept up Hanna's neck and she shivered. Blinking her eyes open, she groaned, realizing she'd woken up. A glowing golden halo hovering above her made her feel even more disoriented. What was that?

Once her vision adjusted, she realized it was Bethany: standing over her with an ashen, menacing face. She clenched her hands into fist so tightly, her nails broke the skin of her palms and blood trickled down and stained the floor. Instinctually Hanna parted her lips and screamed.

The orderlies came and dragged Bethany away, who started thrashing around and even biting her restraints. That's when Hanna noticed the knife in Bethany's hand—and the wet, dark slash over her stomach.

A concerned and ashen Debbie explained to Hanna that she didn't have to worry about Bethany anymore, that they were taking her to a higher floor where she will be dealt with. Gulping away the baseball-sized lump in her throat, Hanna watched, mouth dry and heart pounding furiously, as Debbie closed the door and she was consumed in darkness again.