After finally calming my heart and stopping myself from rolling all over the bed, I decided to eat the leftovers I had brought earlier because honestly, I hadn’t eaten much before I got all flustered in front of Lando.
"This is truly heaven," I muttered as I bit into my third slice of pizza, feeling so blessed that I could finally taste sothing full of flavor instead of the bland als from the hospital.
However, just as I was about to swallow it, my stomach suddenly rumbled, and I felt sothing rushing up my throat. "... Wait."
I froze, pressing a hand over my mouth. The nausea ca out of nowhere, hitting so hard that I barely had ti to set down the slice before rushing toward the bathroom.
I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet and threw up everything I had just eaten.
How could this be happening?! I hadn’t eaten that much and I wasn’t even close to full!
I swear, I didn’t overeat today.
After flushing it all away and rinsing my mouth with water, sothing caught my eye that made my heart pound faster.
I lowered my gaze, then slowly lifted my right hand closer to my face.
Damn it, Helcia.
There was Russell’s sign on her knuckle, not too obvious, but still visible. It was the kind of mark that shows up on people with bulimia, a condition where soone forces themselves to vomit right after eating.
I had been too focused on digging through Helcia’s mories about her family and career that I completely ignored her eating habits.
She had been body-shad by her family since childhood, always compared to Madeline, and for so reason, that mother-daughter duo had the habit of calling Helcia a pig every ti they saw her eat.
They always laughed whenever they said those words, thinking it was nothing more than a joke. But without realizing—or perhaps simply not wanting to know—their words cut a deep wound in Helcia’s heart.
She started to believe she really was a pig every ti she ate. That’s why she tried so hard not to eat too much, and if she ever thought she’d eaten more than she should, she would run straight to the bathroom and force herself to throw it all up.
I knew Helcia was a bit malnourished, but I never expected her condition to be this bad.
I sat down on the cold bathroom floor, dragging a hand down my face, overwheld by how damaged this body really was.
I hadn’t experienced any symptoms before because, back at the hospital, the food was always bland and the portions were small. But now that I’d eaten sothing rich and flavorful, this body rejected it right away, vomiting it back out, like it had been trained to do.
[You can still try eating slowly, Host. Maybe that way, you won’t throw up your food.]
I let out a low groan. "No ... that’s not what I’m worried about."
The truth was, I had the sa condition once, back when I was still a rookie. As a newcor with no support behind , of course I always had to look perfect, and that mindset completely destroyed my body image.
For more than four years, I lived with an eating disorder before I finally found the courage to see a psychologist. Step by step, I learned how to eat without fear, without counting every calorie or punishing myself for stepping on a scale.
I’ve been clean for five years now, living healthier and treating myself better. But still ... I’m scared. I’m scared that Helcia’s body will drag back into the darkness I fought so hard to escape.
I’m scared of relapsing, of becoming that broken version of myself again.
I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face against them.
I really don’t want to have a bad relationship with food ever again.
It was such a dark and painful ti, and the thought of it still makes my chest ache. I love cheesecake, I love the comfort of treating myself to a cheeseburger now and then. Those little things always made life feel lighter, even on the worst days.
If that old illness ever cos back, I’d have to say goodbye to those small joys, and honestly, I don’t think my heart could take losing them again.
[Host, maybe you should think about seeing a psychiatrist again.]
I let out a long sigh. "And what am I supposed to tell them? That I reincarnated into soone else’s body who just happens to have the sa illness as ? Yeah, great idea, they’d probably give a one-way ticket to the psych ward."
The truth is, the body and mind are always tied together, and with my mind stuck inside Helcia’s body, it’s like trying to run a ssed-up system on a broken machine. No wonder everything feels so damn hard.
"I’ll try to handle it on my own for now," I muttered as I pushed myself up from the floor. "Maybe I just need to avoid junk food for a while and stick to ho-cooked als."
At least ho-cooked food doesn’t look like garbage. Maybe I can slowly increase my portions little by little until I can eat normally again.
I probably need to buy a gym mbership too, to maintain my figure. But honestly, what’s the point of working out if my eating habits are still a ss? The only thing I’d get from exercising without eating is a first-class ticket to the hospital.
[Maybe you can use your condition to get more sympathy from Lando, Host.]
"No." I let out a tired sigh. "Not this ti."
Most people don’t offer sympathy when they hear about eating disorders, they judge instead. Therefore, I’d rather keep this to myself than risk anyone, especially Lando, finding out.
I leaned against the bathroom wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. The tiles felt cold against my back, grounding in a way I didn’t ask for but probably needed.
"That’s alright," I murmured. "This isn’t the first ti I’ve gone through sothing like this on my own."
I closed my eyes, letting the silence of the bathroom press down on , and for a mont, I convinced myself that being alone was safer than letting anyone in.
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