The room was painted a light yellow, the sort that came out of the tin pre-faded and peeling. With its fluroscent orange lighting and monstrously filthy shag carpet, it seemed almost offensively inoffensive. A small sliver of light that would have likely filtered through the window (had it not been a grayish, cloudy day) probably would have given it a cheerier air, but this was unsurprisingly absent. The room seemed entirely too large for its single occupant, who herself seemed to be trying to take up as little space as possible. The girl, who could have been anywhere from twelve to sixteen, had dyed hair the color of the paint on the walls and a disposition about as sunny as the nonexistent pleasant weather. She slouched in her chair, skinny arms draping down from her shoulders and cascading into her pockets like a gloomy waterfall. Her feet absentmindedly tapped out a tune on the floor, which was of course entirely cancelled out by the shag.

She had been waiting there for nearly twenty minutes. Though the lost time would have once been cause for a good natured whine about a busy schedule, the people to see and places to go that would have once occupied her mind were now inaccessible and irrelevant. She could wait, would wait, had no choice but to wait. What else was there to do?

“Jess!” She snapped her head up, blinking up at the source of the voice. The offender was a cheerful looking Sorority type wearing a pink and green sundress and a smile that was entirely too pleasant. “Sorry I’m late.” The girl who was not Jess strode into the room. Her white sandals sunk into the carpet with every step, giving her the impression of a child running barefoot in the summer grass. She stopped when she came to Jess’s seat, hesitating slightly. She opened her arms after a pause. The movement was tentative, but Jess felt relieved that it the burden of initiation of affection had not fallen to her. She fell into the other girl’s arms and stayed there until she felt herself being gently peeled off and sat her back in the chair.

“God, Emmy, I missed you,” Jess said after a long pause that was both uncomfortable and soothing. She lowered her voice down to a whisper. “I need to get out of this place, Em. I’m going crazy here.” Her eyes flitted back and forth, searching for a camera or an orderly lurking in the shadows.
Em slid out a chair opposite Jess and sat down with a flounce of her skirt. She crossed her ankles and, with a faked cough, cleared a throat that obviously needed no clearing. “Jess, I’m really sorry about this whole thing. Like, we both know that you don’t deserve to be in this place.” She looked uncomfortably down at her purse. “You know they don’t even allow visitors to have cell phones? Isn’t that just inhumane? Jeez.”
“Yeah, inmates aren’t allowed either.” Jess, who had long since mourned the loss of her snap streaks, smiled through tight lips. “That’s not even the half of it, Em. You can’t even imagine it.”
Em’s eyes widened. Now whispering too, she leaned across the metal table and frowned conspiratorially at her friend. She was the perfect picture of detached commiseration. “What’s it like? I’ve never had a friend end up in prison before.”
Jess fought the urge to recoil. “It’s not prison.” She said, feeling hot red blood flushing up to her cheeks. “It’s a mental hospital.”
“Oh yeah.” Em agreed. “I mean, that’s what I meant. You know that’s what I meant, right Jess?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Sure, of course I know what you meant.” Jess’s hands writhed like a pair of dueling snakes on her lap. She used to find incredible comfort in the angles and edges of her hands. She had thin, long fingers, which she had once used to rub moisturizer into tight skin straining against protruding bones. Now, she found herself mesmerized in horror by the slight fold of fatty skin between her thumb and pointer finger.
“Are they treating you okay, though?” Em stared at Jess. The two of them were an incredible contrast. Sitting across from her perfectly manicured comic book babe of a friend, Jess appeared almost like a washed out watercolor. When Jess didn’t respond, her friend pushed on. “I’ve been really worried about you. Your mom said you went to summer camp, but after you… you know…”
“Passed out in the middle of class?” Jess offered, her eyes screwed shut.
“Yeah. Exactly.” An audible sigh of relief seemed to pass between them. “I couldn’t believe that.”
Jess smiled, eyes still closed. “You know I never would have gone anyway,” she said. “Summer camp means summer calories.”
Em, who had been smiling in response to her friend’s tight lipped gesture, faltered. “Yeah.”
“Sucks, right?” Jess knew that she should stop, but somehow couldn’t bring herself to care. “I mean, I always knew that I was messed up in the head. But I guess I didn’t realize just how much. I definitely didn’t think I’d end up in a mental institution getting force fed until I vomit.” Em flinched slightly. “That does really suck.” Her eyes traveled down once more to rest on her purse. Finally, she asked. “But are you getting better? Are you gaining?” When Jess didn’t answer, Em seemed to take it as a cue. “Well, I really just wanted to check on you to make sure that you were better. Like as a friend, you know.” She stood up, her chair nearly tipping over in the process.
Jess looked up at her friend, locking eyes for the first time in nearly a month and a half. Em had always had beautiful blue eyes, the sort that populated Tumblr dashboards and optician offices and looked like the sky reflected in a shallow ocean. She thought of the past month; of the endless therapist sessions which always ended in mutual promises of her recovery, of the sickeningly sweet dessert that she forced down her throat every evening, of a scale slowly creeping up. Of her mother looking squarely at her mouth to avoid looking in her eyes. “I’m gaining.” She cleared her throat and pushed the chair to rest against the table. In a sweeping motion that made her baggy sweatpants swish and her vision swim, she made her way to the door. “But I’m not getting better. Bye, Em.”