the bone garden.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
"Nobody's going to care about me 'till I'm just a pile of bones buried in the garden."

** for MD22's contest **

Submitted: October 30, 2013

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Submitted: October 30, 2013

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The scent of roses swirls in the air. Her knees wobble each passing moment, as though her legs are about ready to snap beneath her. A yellow sundress, one that once hugged her curved frame, now hangs from her body like a sheet just draped over her petite form. She gazes at the roses in the vase on the desk, her sharp hazel eyes hollow and empty. There are heavy grey bags under her eyes. She's got hollow cheekbones and a collarbone jutting out so far it looks as though it could break through her soft, ivory skin. Bruises are scattered across her once porcelain skin. Violet bruises, yellow bruises, grey-purple bruises. Some are only just beginning to blossom upon her skin.

"May," He clears his throat, his eyes trained on her face. She doesn't even glance at him, instead staring off into space. The clock ticks on the pale blue wall, almost deafening in the absence of their speech. "Please, May, take a seat."

With wobbling knees and slow, struggled movements, May snaps out of her supposed trance and moves to sit across from him in a black leather seat. The chair squeaks as she sits herself down delicately, folding her hands in her lap. He feels a pang of pity watching her struggle to cross one leg over the other before settling with both of her white, ballet flats touching the floor.

"So, May. How have you been this week?" He asks in a soft tone, his mind going back to the first time they'd met. He'd opened his mouth to introduce himself when his ringtone had sounded from his pocket, full blast. May had screeched, placing both hands over her ears. He remembered the petrified look in her eyes, the way she'd fallen and curled up into a protective ball on the floor. She didn't like noise, not at all.

"I d-don't know, Charles. I'm hungry all the time, but it feels strange to chew. It's like- I don't know." She murmurs in her soft, almost childlike voice. Charles gazes at her, an ache in his chest at the empty look in those dazed hazel eyes. 

"Strange? How so?" He asks, and May gives a tiny sigh. Looking to her left arm, May traces over a fresh grey bruise, beginning to blossom just below her shoulder.

"I never ate. Not for months, Charles. I was scared of getting- getting fat." She spat, shuddering as she spoke those words. Charles rubs the back of his neck, folding his hands in his lap. Glancing up, he sees they've only got ten more minutes before the end of the session.

"That's why I'm not used to chewing. It feels so alien, I just want to spit it all out every time. The doctors never notice anyway." May shrugs, as though it's a casual statement such as 'I walked my dog today', when in reality it is so much more than that.

"You can't keep on like this, May. The doctors are trying to help you. They're trying to get you better." His voice raises slightly, and fear fills her hazel eyes. Realizing his mistake, Charles tones it down a little. "I just want you to get better, May. We all do."

"I'm fine, Charles, I'm fine! Everybody says I'm sick, I'm not sick. I don't understand!" May shrieks, and Charles stares at her with wide eyes. He hadn't ever heard her raise her voice like she had then, not ever. "And the funny thing is, nobody loves me, Charles! Nobody! People only love you if you're skinny, I know it! I've seen the way everybody looks at me, like I'm some sort of animal!"

She speaks in a vicious tone, leaning forward in her seat. Her eyes are filled with a mix of emotions, the most dominant being fury and desperation. Charles gapes at her, unable to speak for what feels like forever. May slumps back in her seat, the anger fading from her eyes to be replaced by sadness. Raw sadness.

"Nobody's going to care about me 'till I'm just a pile of bones buried out in the garden." She speaks in the ghost of a whisper, voice croaky and filled with emptiness. She stands herself up, looking everywhere but at Charles. He sits in silence, her words echoing in his head.

"You might think that, May." He murmurs, glancing up to meet her eyes. It takes a minute, but she stares back at him with hollow eyes. "But really, you have so much to give to this world. All you've gotta do is eat."

She stares at him, blinking once before turning on her heels stiffly. Glancing up to the clock again, Charles sees that it is indeed the end of the session. As he stands up to walk her back to her room, May shakes her head.

"I'm going to the cafeteria, Charles. I'll get you a coffee if you'd like." She says stiffly, not bothering to look back at him. She doesn't get a chance to see the soft smile that crosses his face.

"Sure, May. That'd be lovely."


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