Chapter 123

Hannah

The sleek gray facade of the youth center stood stark against the bright blue sky, its barred windows almost looking like big, empty eyes staring at nothing. I shuddered as I looked up at it.

“Is this really what our local youth center looks like?” I murmured, glancing over at Sophia, the head counselor from my eating disorder awareness group—and my partner in the campaign. “I had no idea.”

Sophia grimaced as she looked up at the cold, uninviting building, and gave me a terse nod. “Unfortunately, yes. I’ve been trying to direct parents away from sending their kids here for years… It’s not a friendly place.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line and began striding up the stone steps. I would have to mention this to Noah; this place needed an upgrade. Greenery, murals, anything to make it look more like a place for rehabilitation for minors and less like a prison.

Honestly, the fact that I hadn’t ever noticed this place before now made me sick to my stomach. Too long I had spent ignoring my pack, instead focusing on my own ego and turmoil. Even if I was going to return to my rightful pack soon, I couldn’t leave Nightcrest with places like this still scattered around.

Although, I hadn’t talked to Noah in several days now—and I was afraid to ever since our last little tryst. Maybe I’d try to go through Scott instead, have him relay the message for me.

But Noah was notorious for ignoring Scott, and I knew that despite everything, he’d be more likely to listen to me directly.

Still, the thought made me shudder.

Sophia and I stepped into the building flanked by camera crew members and campaign staff, and were greeted by a tall nurse in pink scrubs.

“Welcome, Luna Hannah,” the nurse said with a polite dip of her head. “Welcome to Nightcrest Youth Center. Right this way.”

We followed the nurse through the labyrinthine hallways to the eating disorder ward, and soon, we were pushing through a set of heavy metal doors into the communal space. A nurse behind a nurse’s station eyed us over her glasses, but said nothing as we entered.

“This here is our eating disorder ward’s communal room,” the nurse in pink explained, gesturing to the surrounding chairs, plastic-covered sofas, and folding tables. There was a small television in the corner with a few teenagers sitting around it, and patients were scattered at tables playing various board games and doing other activities.

One thing stood out to me: the complete and utter lack of color. It was like someone threw up gray and beige all over the damn place. And even though there was a communal kitchen off to the side, there was absolutely nothing appetizing about it.

“This is it?” I asked, turning to face the nurse in pink. The cameras zoomed toward us, Emily directing them to get the perfect shots for the documentary.

The nurse in pink blanched slightly. “Yes,” she said. “This is it.”

I frowned as I looked around at the drab interior. For a so-called ‘youth’ ward, it looked like something out of a horror movie.

“Hm. What’s funding like?” I asked.

The nurse blanched again. “Sparse,” she admitted with a wry chuckle. “We try to do what we can for the kids, but unfortunately…” She gestured at the board game table, where all of the games appeared so worn you could barely even read the text on the cards.

“I’ll speak to my husband and see what we can do.” I turned then to take in the patients themselves—all teenagers, mostly female. A few especially young ones, which really broke my heart. Some of them were deathly skinny, some were morbidly obese, but many looked completely ‘normal’.

I exchanged a glance with Sophia and felt her pain. We both knew how common it was for people with eating disorders to look just like everyone else. That was what made them so deadly.

“Luna Hannah?” The soft sound of a girl’s voice caused me to turn, and there was a slight young girl sitting at a nearby table, wringing her hands nervously. She had various pieces of construction paper in front of her and at least a dozen paper cranes spread out on the table.

“Did you make these?” I asked softly, crouching down to her level.

The girl nodded excitedly and handed one to me. “They keep my hands busy,” she said. “It helps when I get anxious.”

“Hmm…” I paused, turning the tiny paper crane this way and that in my hands. “Do you think you could teach me? I could use something like this to keep my hands busy, too.”

The girl beamed widely.

…

I spent the afternoon with the kids—making paper cranes, playing board games, having tea, just chatting. The kids seemed lonely, and I genuinely felt for them; they needed the care that this place provided, of course, but they missed their friends, their families, their classmates.

One thing was for certain, though: having their Luna come to visit seemed to be the highlight of the day. By the time the kids all caught on to the fact that I was there, I was practically swarmed with small hands and homemade cards and requests to play games.

Throughout the day, however, I noticed one boy who didn’t join in with the others. He was sitting by the window in a wheelchair, just staring up into the sky. At first, I thought that maybe he was sleeping or maybe even catatonic, but when I caught him looking over every so often, I realized that that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Who is that boy?” I asked the nurse, curious.

The nurse sighed. “That’s Tom.”

“Is he sick, or…?”

“He’s very shy,” the nurse replied softly. “Doesn’t like hanging out with the others. Barely talks in group therapy. We’ve tried everything.”

I frowned. “May I?”

The nurse shrugged. “Sure, you can try to talk to him. He might not answer, though.”

With a nod, I cautiously walked over to the boy’s wheelchair. As I drew closer, I realized he must have been about sixteen. He seemed anorexic, his legs so thin that he must have been bound to that wheelchair for most of the day.

I just stood there for a moment, following his gaze, until I realized what he was looking at: a bird’s nest in the tree by the window. There were babies inside, and the mother had seemingly just returned with dinner.

“You’re watching the birds?” I asked.

The boy shot me a look but said nothing. Sighing, I sank down cross-legged onto the floor beside him. Together, we just watched the mother feed her babies until she was finished, and then she flew away again.

“She’s always feeding them,” Tom suddenly blurted out. “Back and forth all day.”

“I wonder if she gets tired,” I replied.

Tom shot me a sidelong glance. “I doubt it. Birds are wired for that sort of thing.”

“They still get tired, though,” I replied. Tom smirked, and I scratched my head before continuing. “Don’t you want to come and play a board game with us?”

For a moment, the boy stiffened—but then he glanced over at the others, grimaced, and shook his head. “Nah. I don’t fit in.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged, then gestured at himself. “I’m a guy. And I’m anorexic. Look at me.”

“So?” I asked as I eyed the boy’s thin arms. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Guys aren’t supposed to be anorexic. It’s… weird.”

“Who told you that?”

For a moment, Tom was silent. Then, turning his head, he bit out through clenched teeth, “Everyone.”

I frowned deeply. “Well, I don’t think that’s true. Plenty of guys have eating disorders, anorexia included.”

“Tell that to my parents,” Tom said with a scoff. “My anorexia was ignored until I was almost dead. No one believed me, and now look at me. And now no one wants me around while I’m in this damn wheelchair.”

My lips parted to grind out a retort at the teenager’s poor attitude, but I stopped myself. He was right; men were often overlooked for eating disorders. And now he was in a wheelchair, feeling alienated because of his disorder.

“Do you think your peers think that?” I asked, gesturing to the others. “Have they told you that they don’t want you around, or have you just assumed that?”

Tom opened his mouth, but then shut it again. His eyes, a deep blue, met mine—and it was in that moment that I made a decision. With a huff, I grabbed the handles of his wheelchair and spun it around, pushing it back toward the games table.

“Hey!” Tom shouted. “What the hell—”

“We’re playing Monopoly,” I said, “and you’re joining in.”

…

By the time I walked out of the youth center, the sky was already dark. I stifled a yawn as I said goodnight to Sophia; somehow, we had spent the entire day there. After I had pushed Tom over to the games table, I had convinced him to join in on a game of Monopoly—and before I knew it, we were three hours into the game with no end in sight.

I promised to come back, of course. How could I not?

But it was as I opened the car door, about to tell the driver to take me home, that my phone buzzed. A text from Viona illuminated the screen.

“Meet me at Crescent Pub. NOW.”