Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
She nods, and her gaze softens a smidge. “That’s not all that unusual for a girl of your age.” Looking from Quinton and back to me, she says, “We’ll get you nursed back to health, and then you really need to consider some form of therapy. You could’ve died… I really hope you understand that.” I want to tell her she is wrong, but there’s no way I’m going to, not with Quinton in the room.
“I’ve got some paperwork to do, so I’ll be back in a few minutes with another bag of fluids. You lie back and rest.” She pats my leg, and I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. I’m very close to exploding on Quinton.
As soon as she walks out of the room and the door closes behind her, I’m ready to lurch across the room. “What the hell? I don’t have an eating disorder, and we both know it.”
His jaw clenches tighter, and he speaks through his teeth. “Will you ever learn to keep your mouth shut?”
“I have no reason to keep my mouth shut,” I growl. “In fact, keeping my mouth shut is the reason I’m here in the first place. Had I spoken up sooner about not getting adequate meals, maybe I wouldn’t be here, half-dead to the world.”
Arguing is making my head hurt, and I lie back on the cot and close my eyes, cutting off whatever connection we held looking at each other.
“A thank you is sufficient enough. There is no need for you to throw a hissy fit. You’re already a snitch in the eyes of every single student and staff member here. Now you snitch on the cafeteria staff by telling the doctor you aren’t being given food?”
“It’s not a lie.”
“It’s a snitch move. Keep your mouth shut. It’s your biggest downfall.” The sound of the chair scraping against the tile floor forces me to drag my eyes open again, and I see Quinton pushing out of the chair.
“Where are you going?” I ask, trying not to sound like I care. He’s obviously been here a while, and I’m fine now, so what does it matter if he leaves?
“If you must know, I’m going back to my room to sleep for a few hours. I’ve been here for hours making sure your ass didn’t die on me before I can get my full use out of you. I have class in a few hours, and I haven’t slept a wink.”
All I can do is roll my eyes.
“Of course, all you care about is my usefulness to you.”
“Shut up and go to sleep before I put you to sleep.”
“You don’t have to be so aggressive.”
“Go to sleep, Aspen,” he orders, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
I watch him walk to the door and then snap my eyes closed, pretending like I don’t give a shit what he does. Really, I don’t. I just don’t like how dismissive he is of me or the fact that the cafeteria is the reason I’m currently hospitalized. I’m not a snitch for speaking the truth, and I didn’t do this to myself, which is what he wants the doctor to believe.
Silence settles around me, and I stay in a temporary state between half asleep and half awake, every little sound startling me. I’m feeling a lot better, which is all that matters to me at this point. I’m not sure how much time has passed or when I finally fall asleep, but the next time I open my eyes, I find Brittney sitting in the spot where Quinton was the first time I woke up.
“Hey, you!” she greets, concern etched into her features.
“Hey,” I croak.
“What happened? You look like someone put you through the food processor.”
A smile tugs onto my lips. “That’s because they did. Apparently, I have food poisoning, and I’m dehydrated and lacking minerals.”
Brittney gives me a stern look. “If you want to tell me what’s going on, you can. I won’t say anything. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself or be harmed by someone else.” I get the feeling she is referring to that night in the hall, which I never fully explained to her.
“If you’re wondering if I did this to myself, the answer is no. It’s also a very complicated situation, so I’ll leave it at the cafeteria hasn’t been offering me good food, and when I say good, I don’t mean delicious.” Brittney’s nose wrinkles. “Whenever I go to get food, it’s expired or near expiration. Sometimes, there isn’t anything at all, and on those days, I don’t eat. Quinton told me to shut up when I went to tell the doctor…”
I realize all too late that I’ve said too much and press my lips together to stop the rest of the word vomit from escaping.