Shame burns deep within me. The thought of telling Jules what Charles did to me makes my stomach churn. “I c-can’t… I don’t want to talk about that. At least not yet.”
I expect him to dig deeper, ask more questions. He doesn’t. Instead, softly, he says, “Bodhi, I think you need to get some help.”
For the first time since this conversation started, I allow myself to look at him. The devastation plaguing every inch of his face destroys me. I did that to him.
“You cannot keep living like this,” he continues. “The way you’re starving yourself. You need help.”
Words escape me. I don’t know what I could even say.I’m fine. But we both clearly know that’s not true. You don’t wind up in a hospital bed, hooked up to a bunch of machines by an IV, with your throat raw from a tube being shoved down it to pump the contents of your stomach if you’refine. I’m quite literally the furthest thing from the realm of fine.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, a tear sliding down to my ear, wetting the pillow below me.
“You don’t need to be sorry, Bodhi.” His words are broken up. Tears well in his eyes, and I watch as they course down his face. The sight is like a knife to the chest. “I love you, so much, and I can’t watch you keep doing this to yourself. Please let me help you in the way I know how.”
Jules reaches forward, slipping his hand into mine, his warmth seeping into me. “I’ve done some research, and I found a facility I think would be good for you.”
My stomach sinks at the wordfacility.
“They have top-of-the-line psychologists and physicians, comfortable living arrangements, group and individual therapy. They could really help you, Bodhi, and I’d love nothing more than to pay for you to go, if you agree to it.”
Chomping down on the inside of my cheek, I think over what he’s offering. After my first failed attempt in high school, my dad forced me into therapy. It helped while I was going, and she was able to prescribe me the pills I’d been taking before I stopped them a few months ago, but it was just for depression. My dad never knew about my eating disorder—or if he did, he never said anything.
I’m saved from having to answer right away when the door opens, in walking a meek-looking Elias. His eyes find mine before immediately darting to Jules. “Uh, hey,” he murmurs while he stands awkwardly at the foot of the bed.
Jules stands, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, I’m going to go get some coffee and let you two talk. Bodhi, I’m going to grab you some water. Elias, do you want one?”
Elias shakes his head.
He gives a clipped nod, heading for the door. “Be back in a few.”
Elias moves to sit in the chair Jules just vacated, pulling his legs to his chest. He wraps his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees while he watches me. My friendship with Elias has never been awkward or uncomfortable. But as we sit here, neither of us really knowing what to say, the uneasiness is suffocating. I don’t know how much he knows or what he saw. I want to ask… but I also don’t want to.
Eventually, the silence is too much. “Say something,” I murmur softly.
“I don’t know what to say, Bodhi,” he admits. “I’m angry with you. I’m hurt and horrified, and I’m sad for you. But mostly, I’m really angry. You’re my best friend, Bodhi, and I almost lost you. Seeing you lying there on your bedroom floor, unconscious and barely hanging on…” He shakes his head, not finishing the sentence. “I just… I wish there was something I could’ve done before you got to this place where you felt like you had no other choice. So, I guess I’m angrier with myself than with you.”
Something breaks inside me. “Elias…” My voice is shattered, throat still raw and dry. “I am so fucking sorry. I’m sorry you had to find me like that.”
Brows drawing inward, he shakes his head. “I didn’t find you. Well, I mean, yes, I saw you in your room before the ambulance got there, but it was Jules who found you and called for help.”
Jules?Fuck. I don’t know why I assumed he came here straight from the airport. Him being the one to find me wasn’t even something I registered as a possibility.
“Uh…” Elias clears his throat. “Jules mentioned he found a, uh, treatment facility. Is that, uh… is that something you’re considering?”
I nod. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Why only maybe? What’s stopping you?”
Emotion buries itself in my chest as I attempt to swallow around the lump in my throat. “I’m scared,” I admit. “I’m scared it won’t work. That I’ll fail. I’m scared I’m always destined to end up right here, hopeless and completely fucking dejected. I’ve dealt with this my entire life… what if it doesn’t work?”
“Yeah, but if you never try, you’ll never know.”
It isn’t long after that when Jules comes back with Camden following behind him. He was supposed to be in Rhode Island this weekend visiting Vaughn, but came back early because of me. My heart aches with the knowledge that my actions hurt every single person in this room. I hate that. Hate that I hurt them while trying to get rid of my own hurt, when all three of them have never done anything but try to be there for me.
But I couldn’t let them in.
Welcome to Blackwood Ranch Treatment Center
Blackwood, California
