Chapter 10: Hanna

One entire month passed, and Hanna almost dozed off in therapy wondering why in the world she was still in this psychotic place. That's when she realized: she'd been there for almost two months. In that time, she'd seen John, Helen, even Elizabeth, bid goodbye and thanks for "being better now." She watched as their bony arms plumped up and their ribcages disappeared behind their skin every week.

It wasn't fair. She looked like every single one of them now, after they'd been treated. But why didn't anyone believe her?

In fact, Hanna's improvement had been so miniscule in almost two months, Caleb had requested she have more frequent one-on-one therapy sessions. "When was the last time you'd eaten something?" he inquired as the last person filed out. God, she wished she was able to leave. She wanted to go to lunch and be there when Spencer invited Aria to sit with them. It'd been a rocky few weeks; right when Hanna was opening up to Aria not being so cuckoo, Spencer had put up a fence with the whole investigation into Alison's disappearance and Aria's supposed involvement in it. But now, Spencer was calmed down, doubting Aria's alleged threatening nature. She deserved, like all of them, to make it out of here while her brain was still attached. How Aria had survived ten years at Radley, Hanna had no idea.

"Yesterday, I think?" she replied honestly. It was difficult to lie to Caleb's concerned face. She hadn't told him yet, but he was helping her a lot, emotionally. But it must be frustrating for someone to tell you that yet not physically see their problems go away. "I had an apple for breakfast."

"And that's it?"

She glanced down at her lap, embarrassed. When'd she ever been embarrassed by how much she ate? Last year, she'd bragged about eating twelve almonds a day and not feeling a bit hungry. Boys and girls of all ages would drop their jaws to the ground when she'd reveal that unconventional piece of information. Of course, it was a lie that her stomach wasn't growing like crazy all the time. But it was the truth now. "Yeah."

"You have to eat more than that. Allow your stomach to build a tolerance again. You don't have to eat a full meal in one sitting; in fact, that's highly not recommended. You know, the victims of the Holocaust, they were given Jell-O—"

Hanna tugged at a loose strand on her robe. It didn't take her long to stop dressing up; this place wasn't worth her time. "I don't want to," she blurted out, stopping him, "…eat anything."

"Hanna, soon enough, you're not going to have a choice. I don't want to scare you, but you are, as of recently, on the brink of life and death. You can, and will, be hospitalized if you don't start gaining some weight and eating again." Hanna kept her gaze focused on her lap. "Your mother is paying for you to be here so you can survive this… And I know you're strong enough to push through and feel better—"

"I feel fine!" Hanna shouted, controlling the hysteria bubbling up inside her. A wave of dizziness passed through her, and she put a hand on the back of the sturdy chair. "And I'm so close to reaching the weight I've strived for since Hefty Hanna became my name."

Despite her burning desire to make it out of Radley, Hanna still wasn't speaking much in therapy. The most she'd say was vague, like "I felt like my body wasn't good enough," a typical statement to dodge not saying anything at all. For everyone there, though, there was a bigger pressuring instigator that made them sink into obsessing over their body weight: anxiety or depression, self-esteem, grades, alcoholic parent, peer pressure, even a girl whose dance teacher bullied her into losing more weight in order to become the "impeccable" ballerina figure.

But Hanna didn't want to share Hefty Hanna with the group.

As she stormed out of the room, Caleb didn't attempt to hold her back. It was more than difficult to help people like Hanna—people deep in their own beliefs, to the point they were blinded by any other possibility. But she had to understand that being at Radley didn't suddenly protect her from her choices. Caleb had seen statistics for the patients here; losing a patient to an eating disorder wasn't nonexistent. But how do you teach someone to see what they can't see? Just because an eating disorder starts as voluntary doesn't mean it can't come to the point of loss of control, like a cancerous tumor.

At the end of the hallway, a reflective glass wall halted Hanna in her raging tracks. To those who were rash and told Hanna what they saw, her ribcage was poking out. But to Hanna, she pinched her arms and there was fat; when she slapped it, it swung back and forth. Squeezing her thighs, there was the jelly-like cellulite that left unwanted indents in her skin because there was more fat under it that also jiggled. As for her torso, she pinched the pouch of fat in her lower stomach.

It was everywhere, yet nowhere to the eyes of outsiders. Angry, frustrated tears brimmed at her reddening eyes. Those people had to be delusional. Hefty Hanna was still hanging around, and she made her stomach jiggle when she walked.

Whipping back around on her heels, Hanna stormed to the room and confronted Caleb, furious sparks glistening in her ice-blue eyes. "I don't know if you know this, but I was on the opposite end of the spectrum for eating disorders when I was nine years old. I was able to eat five pies in one sitting—and I wanted to. My parents would argue, I'd grab half of the sheet cake in the fridge. I'd get a C-minus on a report I worked my ass off on, I'd eat two entire packs of pudding cups. You have no right to judge me and think I'm not aware of what I'm doing, because I am." A wet stream ran down her cheek, and she wiped at it angrily. The window on the opposite end reflected exactly what she didn't want to see: chubby, jiggly, unattractive, disgusting Hefty Hanna. "It wasn't enough that I wanted to slowly kill my body with fat and sugar to feel better. But classmates are cruel. This bully named Alison gave me this nickname: Hefty Hanna. And you think I just slipped into vomiting after every meal because of some social pressures? All the fault was mine. I stuck the toothbrush down my throat, I ran the sink and put my head down the toilet as I lied to my mom about taking a shower, I started lying to my mom about eating dinner earlier when I hadn't eaten it at all. I would just throw it in the trash." Hanna, whose arms were crossed and pressed firmly against her chest, shrugged her shoulders. "How could anyone here blame their problems on anything or anyone but themselves?"

It was an awkward situation to put Caleb in, but he'd been trained on emotional outbursts like this. Many assumed he was too attached to a computer to come close to comprehending human emotions—yet another reason why he felt like he should volunteer here in the first place. During the one-way argument, he'd slipped his hands into his pockets and just listened. Now he gestured to the chairs and he sat down while Hanna hesitated then plopped down, huffing. "First of all, Hanna—I never made any of those assumptions about you. That's not my place," he commenced. The most difficult part of this kind of work was attempting not to unintentionally offend the patient. "But I'm glad." Hanna's eyes darted away from his. "That you have shared this with me, because now, I do understand. And we can work around this and your health will improve…"

Hanna scoffed and stood up, shaking her head. "That's all anyone cares about here—getting better. Well, you know what? It's not always about getting better. Sometimes it's just about talking and that's it." With that, she raced out of the room, this time not returning. She didn't want to admit it, but Caleb was right about one thing: just confessing all of that to him felt a step closer to getting out of this place.

However, it hurt her that he cared so much about everyone's wellbeing and all she cared about was leaving, whether it be because she tricked the doctors or not. He was here voluntarily—and she'd been bashing him around from the beginning. He had the option to leave here; her rebellious, unwelcome tactics hadn't scared him off. If he had hope for her…

Hanna shook off her conflicting thoughts and strode calmly into the cafeteria. Hope bred eternal misery, after all. Caleb could try to help all he wanted, but Hanna might forever be resilient in her belief that everything was already fine.

As she squeezed in next to Emily, Spencer and Emily were eating their meals silently. Raising an eyebrow, Hanna turned around and saw Aria sitting, alone, like always. For the first time Hanna felt guilt for shutting out Aria—how much did it hurt to get frozen off by your own roommate for two months? And why, after warming up to them, were they still shutting you out at the most miserable and agonizing time of the day? "Well, Spence?" Hanna grinned. "Are you going to do it or shall I?"

"I don't know, guys…," Emily hesitated. "I know we talked about it, but if she really did hurt Alison…"

"Screw Alison," Hanna barked defiantly. She could picture that stuck-up blonde devil now, sneering and emphasizing every syllable of "Hefty Hanna." "She was cruel to everyone. Or did you forget how much she bashed around Aria, and us?"

Spencer nodded her head and stood up, striding over to the almost empty table. Intrigued, Hanna watched, and was relieved that no punches were thrown. It didn't even take a minute for Aria to willingly join them and sit across from Hanna.

"So, Rosewood, huh?" Hanna blurted. It was what she did during meal times: blabber like the world was ending. It's not like she had food to play with in case of a loss of conversation. "Terrible place, yet we all want to go back."

"I thought it was nice," Aria piped up, crunching into a celery stick with peanut butter. "Not the people, but the town. There was this tree—"

"On the elementary school playground?" Hanna interrupted, clapping her hands excitedly. "That tree was so beautiful! It would grow these gorgeous white blossoms in the spring… Too bad they cut it down to renovate the football field."

Aria's smile fell. "Oh…" Once Hanna had recognized what she was talking about, Aria was ecstatic that maybe they had more in common than she'd originally thought. But these girls had lived through Rosewood for a decade more than she had; who knew how much Rosewood had changed.

And that tree was her safe haven, back when she was a third grader. That just proved that all good things came to an end.

"Ugh, remember the Kissing Rock?" Emily chimed in, making a gagging noise and rolling her eyes.

"The Kissing Rock?" Aria inquired innocently.

"Yeah, it was this rock that couples would go to to make out," Spencer explained. "But with the high schoolers going there… It was kind of a gross place, really."

"And it's…a rock?"

"Yeah! It was far enough in the woods to not be heard, but close enough to the lake so you weren't completely lost. Oh, remember Noel's summer party, when Bridget got drunk and skinny-dipped in front of everyone?"

"That was so embarrassing!" Emily laughed. "For her, I mean. But I felt embarrassed for her."

"Really? I felt more embarrassed for that game of strip poker that ended in that one guy being butt naked. Bridget had a choice; it seemed like he didn't," Spencer added.

As Hanna, Emily, and Spencer chatted away about their high school experience in Rosewood, Aria felt herself getting farther away even though she was still. Being the new friend in a group wasn't fun when you were the outsider to begin with. She poked at her spaghetti and pretended to disappear.

Before Hanna could comprehend what she was doing, she pointed at Aria's tray and asked, "Are you going to eat that?"

Spencer, Emily, and Aria watched in amazement as Hanna dug a fork into it, spun it around, and swallowed one bite. Right after, she put the fork down and thanked Aria. But it was unlike Hanna to touch any carb that wasn't a fruit or vegetable, when she'd allow herself to nibble on something.

Aria scooted the tray closer to Hanna. "Would you like more…?"

"No, thanks." Hanna waved it away. It was odd, having that tomato and herb taste in her mouth. She didn't know how to feel about it, but a part of her was already fighting over how she allowed herself to consume a well-known carb overload.

"I was just hungry," she admitted, and no one said anything. "But not anymore."