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I make it to the couch, where they are sitting, in three quick strides. I swallow down my nerves and wait. My lungs squeeze with anxiousness, as I prepare myself to hear the worst.
It’s been too quiet lately.
My days spent with my Goldilocks have been too easy: I’ve started becoming careless. Thoughtless of what reality really is. Because life…
Life is not meant to be this sweet.
For a brief moment, I had forgotten just how unfair and cruel fate can be.
“Grayson, this is Detective Mallik,” Uncle Ben introduces the third set of eyes, his voice bleak and tense. “He wants to have a few words with you.”
My heart hammers in my chest, a prickling sensation shooting up my spine.
Detective Mallik looks to be around his late twenties, or early thirties: a young detective. He rises to his feet, standing to his full height. He doesn’t tower over me, I am taller…but the air that surrounds him is one of self-confidence. He has an assertive presence, one that I can admire because he reminds me a lot of how Uncle Ben carries himself.
He pulls a card out of the pocket of his trench coat and hands it to me. It’s his ID badge from the NYPD. “It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance, Grayson. We have a lot to cover, why don’t we have a seat?”
I simply nod.
Blood pounds in my ears.
I know why he is here.
I know who brought him here.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Riley — 18 years old
“Are you going to continue leaving me in suspense or will you tell me how your date went?” Lila grumbles, picking the pepperoni off her pizza and eating it just like that.
I take a bite of my own slice, chewing slowly and enjoying the flavorful taste of mozzarella cheese, soft crust and spicy pepperoni.
Dr. Bailey has helped me come up with my own personal coping plan. I made a list of different triggers that could possibly cause me to act on my eating-disorder urges. Then, I came up with a plan for dealing with each of these triggers in a healthier way.
I used to think it was pointless to even try.
I thought I couldn’t possibly separate my eating disorder from myself. I am it; it is me. It’s an invisible choking hand around my neck, like a noose that’s ever present.
But Dr. Bailey would be proud to know that I have a healthy appetite now, and a better relationship with food. That I can eat without the need to hunch over the toilet afterward, to rid myself of all the calories intake. The more I learn what my triggers are, what I am good at and where my vulnerabilities lie — the easier it is for me to adapt. To cope. To recover.
Sometimes the urge to binge-eat is still there. Some days my anxiety has me thinking that the only solution to all my problems is to purge. But I don’t let those intrusive thoughts win anymore. I can’t…
Because I want to be better. I am better.
Healthier. Happier.
Sure, I still panic at the thought of eating in a public setting. That’s one of my triggers. But I’m better at avoiding these situations now. There are only a few people I’m comfortable eating in front of. Lila, for one.
And Grayson…
“We went to some fancy restaurant, but he realized I wasn’t very comfortable, so we left,” I tell her, a smile playing across my lips as I remember our date in detail.
Grayson’s thoughtfulness. His tender touch. His ravenous kisses.
Lila sits up, frowning. She’s so protective, it’s kinda cute. “You left? What happened to the date? That was it? Did he drop you home then?”
“No, he took me to a meadow. We had our food there, and then we just talked.”
