An Invisible Enemy

6:35am
The alarm clock blares on the nightstand to my right.  In the safe- haven of my bed, nothing can hurt me here.  I lift my drowsy arm and slide the button on the clock to the off position.  Inhale slowly, exhale even slower.  I peel my eyelids open and slide my legs to the right so they are dangling off my bed.  With a slight shove forward I plant my feet on the cool, mahogany floor. 
6:47am
Standing in the bathroom, I turn on the shower and wait for the water to heat up.  I stand naked and vulnerable in front of the mirror, the world around me is quiet.  I stare into the piece of glass and reflecting back at me is my very worst nightmare.  I examine every inch of my torso.  Slowly running my fingers down the curve towards my waist,  as I pass over the ridges of my ribs, one by one, each one clearly defined.  The harsh fluorescent light above makes my pale skin look translucent and slightly ghostly.  I pinch the skin on my lower stomach between my thumb and forefinger, disgusted with the flesh that occupies unnecessary space.  Inhaling, I suck my stomach inward and try to hold the negative space as long as possible hoping that it would just disappear. 

7:25am
Staring at my closet, wrapped in my pale blue towel, I grab a pair of jeans and an oversized off-white knit sweater.  My stomach growls as it cries for food that I am depriving it of.
  “Don’t listen to your stomach, it isn’t asking for anything, it is just applauding your good work.  Congrats darling you’re doing so well.  Keep going, skinny is the answer to all of your problems.  Everybody will notice and love you then.  Feet together thighs apart.  Remember that.  Remember what you need to do.  Skinnier.  Be skinnier.  Be skinnier and you will be perfect.”
8:04am
I enter my homeroom, first period class, each step a struggle to keep trudging on.  The pangs of hunger echo through every inch of my aching body.  I slide into the hard-plastic, forest green chair and my legs thank me.  The bell rings and the chatter of the kids around me fades to a dull roar.  I can feel every vertebrae digging into my chair and I try to re-adjust myself to prevent further bruising of my glass-like spine. 
8:09am
A familiar face plops down in the desk to my right.  She smiles at me with her vibrant blue eyes.  “How was ballet last night?  Sorry I couldn’t make it, I had an orthodontist appointment.”
“Don’t you dare tell her how difficult it was or how badly your body was hurting.  Don’t even think about it.  That is not what matters here.  Don’t tell her that you almost passed out due to a lack of food.”
“Oh it was really great!”  I lie.  “ We learned part of a Swan Lake variation.  I’ll show you the video of it later!”
“Ohh ok!  I can’t wait to see it.”
Our teacher stands in front of the chalkboard and clears her throat.  I try to ignore my hand, trembling with a NO. 2 pencil held tightly between my fingers. 
12:29pm
Fourth period draws to a close and the bell rings it’s obnoxious tone, signifying that lunch hour has begun.  The most painful sixty minutes of my day.  I stop at my locker and get the brown, paper sack, its’ content, my opponent in the opposite corner of the boxing ring.  I walk into the cafeteria scanning the crowd for familiar faces.  I sit down next to my friends as they giddily talk about homecoming- only a few days away. 
12:42pm
I glance at my watch and I try to calculate how much time will pass before someone asks why I haven’t touched my lunch yet.  Twelve minutes have already gone by. 
12:51pm
In order to avoid uncomfortable conversations regarding my lack of food intake, I pull out the turkey and swiss sandwich from the wrinkled bag.  My stomach pleas for anything, begging for me to just take a bite. 
“You’re pathetic.  You didn’t even go sixteen hours without food.  You gave in so easily.  You’re weak.  Each slice of that bread must have at least 300 calories.  It’s going to go straight to your legs.  Food is the enemy.  Do you know what you will have to do to burn all of this off?  Do you?  Did you think about how much you just gave up?  No, of course you didn’t think.”
I remorsefully bite down and chew each bite of the sandwich ten times, trying to savor every morsel.  My stomach profusely thanks me but I will not acknowledge it, I am not so pleased. 
1:21pm
Nine minutes remain, I discreetly slip away to the bathroom.  I check each stall, assuring their vacancy, and I enter the third door and shut the door behind me.  I slide the metal lock to the left.  I dread what comes next but I know it must be done.  I kneel on the cold, unforgiving tile floor and stare into the face of a stranger reflecting back in the water. 
“Do it already.  Get it out of you right now.  You are a screw up.  You know that you’re disgusting and that sandwich made things even worse.  You can hardly touch your fingers together around the circumference of your thighs.  You gave in to eating far too early, now face the consequences of your actions.”
1:26pm
Coughing, I wipe the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, and flush the toilet.  The back of my throat is on fire and my eyes are watering profusely.  I go to the sink and rinse out my mouth, removing all evidence of my sinful act.  Staring at my sunken eye sockets and protruding cheek-bones, I think that I am beginning to resemble a corpse.
1:30pm
Fifth period begins, health class is underway.  On the board, the teacher writes two words and I feel every muscle in my body tighten in fear and my recently vacated stomach churns.  “Eating Disorders”, the board reads.  Mind-racing, heart-pounding, my face begins to feel incredibly hot.  Everything in the room begins to spin and every sound is amplified.  Tick tock, tick tock, the scream of chalk on the board, the boys in the back laughing, the squeak of an eraser, then darkness.
2:03pm
I wake up on a strange, plastic-covered bed.  How did I get here?  I turn to my left and see the school nurse writing on her clipboard with small-framed reading glasses on the bridge of her nose.  She notices that I had opened my eyes and she senses the confusion in my face.
“You passed out in class, darling.  Have you eaten enough today?  You do look a bit thin.”  Hundreds of possible responses fly through my mind yet all I am able to force out is,
“Yes, I’m fine.  I think I’m just a bit dehydrated.”
2:33pm
After drinking a few glasses of water and lying my way through a series of questions, the nurse tells me to rest for a few minutes and then I was free to go back to class. 
“Say the right things.  Don’t tell her what you just did.  She won’t understand, only I do.  You’re doing the right thing.  Don’t tell her you threw up.  Just make her believe that all you need is some water.  Lie to her.  Lie to her.  You need to.”
2:46pm
I walk out of the nurse’s station and down the stairs towards the sophomore hallway as I make my way to my 7th period class, Algebra.  I focus on walking.  Right foot forward, left foot in front of right, repeat. My head is throbbing with every step I take.  As I look ahead, the twenty more steps to room 107 seem to be miles away.  Every step feels like I am treading in a relentless quicksand puddle.  My eyes begin to distort the space around me, as if I were wearing drunk goggles.  The walls feel as if they are closing in on my and I squeeze my eyelids together, trying to clear my vision.  A few staggering, stumbling steps later, I clutch the wall to my right for support and my eyelids tunnel my line of sight to darkness once again.
4:15pm
My eyes still closed, hazy and only half-awake, I hear a steady, repetitive tone sounding from behind me.  As I open my eyes, I blink repetitively and instantly snap to full consciousness and I try to process the scene around me. White walls, hushed whispers from the hallway, small sterile room, hard bed, machines surround me. 
“Well, well, well, look what you have done now.  You ended up in the emergency room.  You couldn’t have just stuck it out for twenty more minutes at school.  Good luck lying your way out of things this time.  You are going to regret this.”
I notice that my left hand is aching and I see a small tube inserted in my hand with a piece of white medical tape securing it in place.  I follow the plastic tubing and see a bag of clear fluids dripping from a bag above.  Heavily and slowly, I sigh and rest my head back on the pillow and close my eyes.  A white flag waving, I accept my defeat.