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What the fuck is that supposed to mean? “Why?”
The doctor doesn’t say anything, which infuriates me even more.
“What’s with all the questions?” I ask, louder than I should. “I told you what happened. I wasn’t drinking. I got in the shower and I was feeling a bit woozy so I fell. What more do you want?”
“Did you have any shakes?”
I grimace.
“You said you were woozy. As in dizzy?”
“Y-yeah,” I say hesitantly, not liking where he’s going with this.
“Did you go for a run before your shower?”
I roll my eyes. “So what if I did?”
“How often do you run, Seth?”
I scoff. “I’m on the track team. I run all the time.”
“How often?”
I wince. “Often enough.”
The doctor nods and his gaze falls to the tablet in his hands. I watch him poke at the thing, typing something. I try to sit up, take a peek as to what he is writing about me, but he quickly pulls away and shoves the thing under his arm. He smiles at me, looking cheerful, but I can tell he’s forcing it.
“What?” I ask, clutching at the blankets. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” says the doctor. “You will be released in about an hour.”
“A-and everything is alright?”
The doctor purses his lips. “Your weight is quite low, Mr. Garcia. Especially given your height. And I’m a bit nervous about your body fat composition.”
My stomach twists as I wonder what all this exactly means. He said he’s going to let me go. So why is he telling me all this? What are they going to do to me?
“I believe that is the reason why you fell.”
He stares at me expectantly, as if I’m going to break down into a fit of tears; as if I’m going to shout, “thank you doctor, you’ve finally figured it out. I’m cured!” Instead, I sit in silence, crossing my arms as my gaze darkens.
“I understand college can be stressful,” the doctor says slowly, as if he’s choosing his words very carefully. “Things can manifest. Get out of control.”
I clench my jaw. What does this guy know? Has he ever been an athlete? The only reason why I could get into college was due to my track scholarship. I lose that, I lose everything. What does he know about losing control?
“I’m going to have the nurse give you some pamphlets and a few business cards of people you can speak to.”
I force a smile when he continues staring at me. Is he really so stupid? All that is going directly into the trashcan. I don’t need his help. I don’t need his pity. “Thanks,” I say between clenched teeth, wanting this conversation to end.
Thankfully, he gets the hint and he leaves, the door swinging close behind him. I sigh and relax into the pillows behind me, staring up at the white ceiling and praying the nurse comes soon. My fingers tap on my stomach as I wonder how I got here in the first place. The door was locked in the bathroom. Did Lucas find me? Did Rachel see me passed out?
That thought makes me wince. The second hospital visit in less than a year. She must be really upset. I should have eaten the fucking eggs. What have I been thinking? Starving myself isn’t going to help anything.
It will make you faster, that dark voice whispers in the back of my head.
I clamp my eyes close, willing the voice away. Stop, I tell myself. You’re in a hospital. Think of Rachel, think of your friends. They’re probably upset.
My eyes open at the sound of the door creaking open. I expect to see the nurse, but instead, there’s Rachel, peeking her head inside, her eyes glistening with tears. “Seth?” she whispers while sliding inside, followed by Lucas, Hunter, and Alex. “You’re awake?”
