I shake my head.
“I’m going to hug you if you don’t eat,” he says with a smirk.
“Please don’t.” The corners of my mouth rise slightly. I pick up one of the sandwich halves and hold it between my fingers.
Eat it.
Don’t.
Do it.
I take a bite, chewing methodically before swallowing. My stomach welcomes the nourishment. I let myself have another bite. And then one more. I finish the half, but my stomach fights against eating any more. Kevin grabs the plate and scarfs down the other half of the sandwich.
“Will you tell me why it’s such a struggle to get you to eat?” he asks as he puts down the plate.
I contemplate an answer. “I just don’t like to.”
“Well it doesn’t matter if you like to. You have to eat while you’re here. Is that understood?” His voice is soft yet commanding.
“I’ll try,” I tell him with a tight-lipped smile.
“That’s all I ask.”
He leaves me alone with my confused stomach. I lay back and sigh, rubbing my fingers along the prominent notches of my hip bones. Scars hide beneath them. No one will ever find out about them. I can’t let them.