Staring, at the reflection which seemed foreign, she fought down the sobs that grew in her throat. Forcing them down, like a cowboy fighting its unbroken horse, she continued to stare at the stranger in front of her.
Was it enough?

Cutting out chocolate, cutting out big portions of gluten, what was it really doing?

And the portion sizes, oh the portion sizes.
Turning away from the mirror she walked across the room, her fingers tracing the edge of the bed spread, watching the sun set silently behind the houses out the window her mind drifted, absent and detached from reality.
“Helena,” came a feeble voice, hesitant.
“Helena, are you in there?”

She stayed silent, staring at the mirror again. Analyzing the contours of her figure, she faced forward.
Horrible, how can you live with that, the cookies at lunch, what did you think was going to happen when you ate them?

Turning to the side, she surveyed herself from a different angle.
Still not good enough.
“Helena?” a knock came at the door, “Helena,” the doorknob turned, but the door was locked. Helena could hear the desperation hanging in the air from a thin thread.

Do you feel good about yourself?
No, her conscience responded.
Leaving the person at the door stranded, she walked over to the bathroom and slouched down against the wall, staring at the fibers of the beige carpet. Ever so hesitantly, her eyes flickered over to the side of the bathroom wall, where It sat.
Don’t look at it,

Look at it

A ping pong competition went back and forth in her mind, the little angel and devil persuaded her to do it, the dissuaded her. Memories slammed her, and as she faced her nemesis sitting so innocently on the carpet floor next to her, she wondered silently what it would take to be free of it. How it would feel to not be imprisoned by it, to breathe freely in life knowing that she wouldn’t have to worry about the amount of food she had eaten, and what effect it would happen later.
“I don’t believe that you are what you think you are, Helena,” a voice broke through her conscience, “You’re not, you know..”

“Say it,”

“But Dr. Hendricks said..”

“No. say. It” her fingernails dug into the skin of her forearms, pain seared up her veins but she intensified the pressure, and focused her eyes on her bathroom mirror.

The bedroom door opened, soft footsteps approached from the doorway, them subsided next to the bathroom. She could hear someone next to the wall sitting down softly, like a mother trying to enter a baby’s room without disturbing it.

“Fat,” the voice whispered.
Hot tears welled up in Helena’s eyes, bowing her head between her knees, she began to rock, back and forth on the carpet.
“Helena,” she whispered, rolling onto her knees and leaning against the bathroom door. “You are not, please, please believe me,”
Helena’s sobs grew in a crescendo, “Helena,” she sounded desperate, “Please believe me, please,”

“I’m sorry,”

“You don’t need to be sorry, Helena,” Crawling closer to the door frame, Caroline heaved a heavy sigh. Finally she said, “Can you stop this?”

There was the sound of muffled cries from the other side of the door, and then a wee whisper, barely audible between the wall, “No,”