August, 1986
Lindsay sat slumped in her bed, flipping through the pages of the new issue of Seventeen Magazine, but she couldn't focus on anything long enough to see if it was worth reading. She closed the magazine and looked at her alarm clock. It was only just past eight. It was too early to go to sleep, but she just wanted this day to be over. She hadn't left the house all day, not even to go to the gym. She'd meant to, but she'd been too tired to do anything. It was the first time she'd skipped exercising since she'd started this diet three months ago. She'd eaten even less than usual to make up for it, but the hunger pangs just put her in an even worse mood and it wasn't enough to get rid of the guilt. She looked at the clock again. There was still time to go swimming, but she didn't want to get out of bed, she was so tired. Tomorrow would be different, she'd get out of the house and do something and she'd exercise extra long to make up for today, but right now she just had to sleep.
As she got up to get ready for bed she heard a knock on her door.
"Come in," she said.
Michael came into her room, carrying a plate of food.
"Hey, I noticed you didn't get any dinner, so I brought you some," he said hopefully.
Lindsay closed her eyes. She couldn't deal with this right now. "I don't want any," she said.
"Are you sure?" he pressed on, ignoring her steely expression. "Rosa made enchiladas, they're really good."
"I already got some," she lied. Their family rarely ate dinner together. Usually their housekeeper cooked something for them and they each got some whenever they felt like it, which had made it much easier for Lindsay to hide how little she was eating.
"No, you didn't," he said.
"How do you know?" she said angrily.
"Because you've barely left your room all day!"
"Well, I did earlier, when I got some dinner," she said icily.
"I didn't see you."
"Have you been waiting in the kitchen all night?"
"Well, no, but—"
"Then I must have gone down when you weren't there," she said simply. He sighed in frustration.
"Do you realize how dangerous this is?" he said.
"Not this again," she groaned.
"I don't know what to do, I just keep waiting for you to stop but you keep getting thinner—"
"Oh my god, do you realize how annoying you're being?!"
"I'm trying to help you!"
"How many times do I have to tell you, I don't need your help, I'm fine."
"If you're fine, then why won't you see a doctor?"
"Because there's no need to!"
"You know that's not true."
She buried her face in her hands. "Can you please just go away? I'm tired," she sighed.
"Yeah, wonder why," he said sarcastically. She glared at him.
"Shut up. You don't know how I feel."
He stared at her, taken aback. "I'm trying to understand, I really am," he said earnestly. She closed her eyes.
"If you want to help me, then leave me alone, just be nice to me and stop bothering me about this!" she said, her eyes filling with tears.
"So you can keep starving yourself?!"
"Oh my god, just go away!"
"Okay, fine!" he said, and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
