That's another twenty minutes on the treadmill. She thinks, placing the bite of food her parents expect her to eat on her tongue. Or just five minutes in the bathroom.

She weighs just seventy pounds. You can see her ribs through her skin and the way her skin sags on her face makes her cheekbones stick out and her eyes look hollow. Everyone tells her to eat, but why would she when there is still so much weight left to lose? At 130, she strove for 120. At 100, she strove for 90. New goals were set with each pound lost.

She chews the food and forces herself to swallow. She can feel the weight sitting in her stomach, and she hates herself for it. Her parents give her sad, encouraging smiles. She can see the tears in her mother’s eyes and it makes her want to throw up even more. How dare she make her see a therapist? How dare she tell her she has a "problem"? There is nothing wrong with her. She can eat if she wants to. It's not any of her mother’s business anyway.

"See? You finished a whole meal. And you're fine. I'm proud of you," her father says, squeezing her shoulder.

She wants to scream. It is most definitely not fine. There is food in her stomach that does not need to be there. She forces a small smile so her parents will leave her alone. But she knows they aren't convinced. Her leg begins to shake impatiently. She just wants this dinner to be over, already. She feels their eyes on her.

"I have homework," She says, so she can leave.

Her parents excuse her and she tries not to look suspicious as she hurries to the bathroom. She looks at the box of laxatives that she pulled from her hiding spot under the sink. She puts them back. She wants the food out of her stomach now. She throws up until there is literally nothing left inside of her. But, she still isn't satisfied.

She turns up the music in her room so that her parents won't hear her footsteps on the treadmill. An hour later, her body is drenched in sweat and her sight becomes less focused. She ignores it as she continues to punish herself for the way she binged at dinner. Her breathing becomes more labored and she feels her chest begin to tighten.

Keep going, she tells herself. You don't deserve to quit yet. Her sight is fading in and out and she begins to have trouble breathing. This is what you deserve, she thinks, right before falling to the ground.

She wakes up to the steady beeping of machines in a hospital room. Her mouth is dry and she looks around for her parents. They aren't there. Why would they be?

There are needles and tubes everywhere, supplying the "necessary nutrients and calories" that she is missing. It makes her sick. Her fingers twitch and she fights the urge to yank all of it off.

2:17 A.M. It's what the clock on the wall says. She examines the dark room again. On the table next to the bed, there is a single card. She looks at it. Get Well Soon! it says on the cover, and she wants to throw it. Get well? As if she had a sickness or something that could be treated or cured. Doesn't anybody get it? The only cure is skinny. She won't be well until she is skinny.

She opens the card, and without reading it, looks to see who it is from. With love, Mom and Dad. With love? What a load of crap. If they really loved her, they wouldn't leave her here alone in this place. Although she hasn't eaten anything, she wants to throw up. Because then she would be getting better. Just like everyone wants.

It's several months later. She is eighteen now, so she lives alone. She weighs fifty-two pounds. She's almost there. She's almost invisible. But she's still not pleased. People stare at her when she goes out. She hears the whispers. Look at her. She's so skinny. Doesn't she realize she's ruining herself? She hates those people. They don't know what's left to lose, obviously. They don't see that with each pound lost, she's one step closer to what she wants.

That night, she takes a shower. She looks at the bruises all over her body. Just a slight bump leaves her black and blue now. She tries to stand under the warm water, but she doesn't have energy, so she sits. She leans her head against the wall and lets the water pour on her head. Her eyes begin to droop closed and her breathing becomes slower. Here it comes, she thinks. This is exactly what I've wanted. And she did it. She got what she always wanted. She vanished.