"Okay, you need two clean sheets in treatment room two?" Hannah Maxwell asked Kerry, one of the ER nurses.

"Yeah, and then if you have time, you should run down to the blood lab and see if the labs on Rodriguez are done," Hannah nodded and scurried off. It was so weird actually working in the ER instead of being a patient.

The memories of her first night in the ER were permanently stained in her mind. She remembered standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the bottle in her hand, staring into the face. Searching, for something, she just didn't know what. She remembered hearing the shouts and cries still coming from downstairs. Without even thinking about what she was doing, the top of the bottle unscrewed. Hannah poured a handful of shiny green and white pills into her hand and took one last longing look at the face in the mirror. She stuck three pills in her mouth and filled her palm with water.

She gulped the pills down, and immediately put more in, faster and faster, they went down her throat. The pills began to nauseate her, but she kept swallowing like she was in a trance; gulp, swallow, gulp, swallow, gulp, swallow until the bottle was empty.

Looking around the room she felt shaky; the screams had quieted to little sobs. Hannah opened the door to her bedroom and walked in. She looked around the room. She'd thought a lot about what would happen and how the whole thing would play out, but just lying on the bed didn't seem enough. Slowly she walked toward the closet and sat down. After twenty minutes Hannah still felt normal. Standing up, she headed back toward her bed; she was almost there when she felt one of her knees buckle under her and her body began to fall, almost in slow motion. The room seemed to turn on its side, pinning her to the ground. She felt odd: tired and floaty.

It took a few minutes before she realized that she was sprawled out across the carpet. She waited. She wasn't sure what she was waiting for, what dying would feel like. Maybe she expected her life to start flashing before her eyes or, or… something, she wasn't sure what. The only thing that she was aware of was the sensation of drowsiness pulling her toward blackness.

Hannah fought to keep her eyes open though; she was starting to get scared. What was her mom going to do without her? As it was, her father's beatings were getting worse. Who would be there to protect her mom when she was gone? She began to struggle against the overpowering sleepiness, but it was getting hard to breathe, like something was pushing on her chest. She struggled even harder and tried to call out, but the darkness was too strong and she was defeated…

Hannah shook off the memories the way that one would shake crumbs off a dirty tablecloth. She then pulled back the curtain and entered exam room two, handing two stark white, antiseptic-scented sheets to a nurse standing near an old man hooked up to oxygen and an IV bag.

"Crystal Freeman, Doctor Myla is ready to see you, hon." the friendly nurse smiled as she watched the small, petite girl stand up and enter the room. After the two had passed through, she shut it behind them. She directed the sixteen-year-old blonde towards their first stop where she would check the basics: height, temperature, blood pressure, etc. By now the girl didn't need directions as she knew exactly where everything was and could get to it with her eyes closed.

The nurse started with the thermometer and wrote down the results in the bulging manila folder she held. She then instructed Crystal to take off her shoes. She measured her height, 4'10", and wrote it down. She then handed Crystal a small plastic cup with a lid and sent her into the bathroom. Crystal sheepishly tried to hide it behind her back as she headed into the bathroom.

When the first part of the examination was complete, the nurse led Crystal to an exam room where she would change into a far from modest gown that looked and felt more like a thin sheet than an article of clothing. After a few minutes of agonizing anxiety, the nurse would return to weigh her. Crystal strained to see the numbers on the scale, but as usual, they were kilograms, not pounds.

Her heart slowed down again as she carefully converted her weight from kilograms to pounds. She ended up waiting for 20 minutes in the more private room. The only things in this room were two chairs, one with wheels and no back, and the other regular. There was also a desk, a cabinet mounted on the wall, a sharps box (for used syringes) and the examination table with a layer of noisy paper between the bed and patient. Blinding florescent lights illuminated the entire room, giving it a surreal, artificial quality.

Crystal looked around the room while she waited. She knew she would be there awhile so she figured she would re-acquaint herself with everything and try and count how many syringes were in the sharps box – that was her favorite waiting game, besides spinning in the backless chair.

Her mindless waiting games didn't keep Crystal's interest for very long, so she just sat herself on the table and pulled a notebook out of her backpack and began writing one of her numerous stories, but couldn't concentrate very well. She kept thinking about her first time she'd seen this particular doctor and the events leading up to the visit...

In her mind's eye Crystal could see a younger version of herself, kneeling in front of the toilet in her bathroom, shoving her fingers as far down her throat as they could possibly go. She had just eaten, what seemed to her, as too much, and needed to fix it.

As the previous meal made its way back up her esophagus and into the toilet, tears formed in Crystal's eyes. She tried to convince herself that it was just because of the burn of the stomach acid, but deep down, she knew that there was more to it. She was depressed and she knew it, though she didn't want to acknowledge how serious it was.

When she had finished purging, she wiped around her mouth with some toilet paper and threw it into the toilet, flushing away pieces of her life. She stood up and made her way to the sink and washed her face, removing any evidence of the event, including the tears.

Crystal fixed her hair and left the bathroom, heading back to the table where her aunt and only living family was probably still drinking her heart away. On her way down the stairs, though, a wave of dizziness swept over her. Grabbing onto the railing, Crystal managed to stabilize herself, but when she tried to take another step, the stair seemed to change it's position and she fell, plummeting towards the bottom of the stairs. It would be nearly an hour before her aunt came by and found her unconscious and bleeding…

"Hey Crystal, how are we doing today?" the doctor's voice broke through the teenager's unpleasant nostalgia.

Crystal opened her mouth to speak, but the doctor cut her off. "I want an honest answer because your labs tell me that you're not doing fine, and so does your weight."