Page 93 of Healing Eleanor

The ponytail breaks free, and with it, a large wad of hair. I run my fingers through the strands, more falling away. I back away until my back presses against the wall, staring at the brittle hair in my hands. Then I look at myself again. This has never happened before.

I stare at myself in the mirror. The girl looking back begs me to stop, but the one on this side of the glass knows I can’t lie. I’ll do it until my throat bleeds. There’s no stopping now, even if I hate it.

Glancing away, I step out of the bathroom and slip into pajamas that are looser than I remember, and crawl into bed with my journal.

Starting weight: 135.8 lbs

Current weight: 110.2 lbs

Goal: 115 lbs ???

Date: 11/12/25

Food log:

Breakfast:

Green tea: 0 cals

Energy drink: 110 cals

Lunch:

Cupcake with pink frosting: 200 cals

Nothing: 0 cals

Dinner:

Nothing: 0 cals

Total Calories: 110 cals

I made myself throw up for the first time today. It was Lily’s birthday, and she brought cupcakes. After just a few bites, I immediately regretted it. But that’s not even the worst part. Nik saw me. Comforted me and all, then sent me home. I don’t blame him, but now I’m terrified. What if he tells Kasper? Or worse, what if those girls tell Kasper they saw Nik coming out of the girls bathroom, with me not far behind? What if tomorrow morning I’m no longer dancing for Hollingford Ballet Company?

The thought makes me want to throw up again, and not by my own doing this time.

If that happens, I’ll have failed. What will I do with myself? It took an entire summer to get hired, and now I’ve just blown it over a stupid cupcake. Gosh, why did Nik have to be there? He’s ruined everything. I’ve ruined everything. I don’t even know if it’s worth getting up in the morning. Too bad I have no choice.

18

Trust Me

Nikolai

I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.

I don’t care how much proof I have. What I witnessed yesterday afternoon is enough. From the second she tried to convince me she was sick, my gut told me otherwise. She went into that bathroom with a purpose. A self-destructive purpose.

Seeing her like that—on her hands and knees, emptying the contents of her stomach—was heartbreaking. I couldn’t decide which emotion burned stronger: the sorrow that wrapped around my chest, or the hot, sharp anger rising in me.

Because don’t get me wrong… I’m infuriated.

How can someone as kind, resilient, caring, and beautiful as Eleanor not know her worth?

I hate that I’m right.

Rehearsals didn’t feel the same after I sent her home. The dancers were flawless—needing little correction—but I missed watching her. Even when she struggles, there’s something about the way she fights through every step that draws me in. Without her, the room feels… meaningless.