• She’s still.
    It’s as if she’s left the room.
    She’s left behind a shell of the person she used to be.
    Her eyes are dead.
    It’s as if she’s faded into the background of an old black and white photo.
    She’s become invisible to even herself.
    This demon is a killer!

    “Come on. Let’s go have breakfast,” I say to her.
    I’m trying my best to encourage her to eat something.
    I don’t know what else to do.
    She needs help, but she won’t get it.
    I already know this.
    I need God’s hope in my heart.
    Save my sister.
    Please, God.
    Save her.

    She slowly nods with so much hesitation.
    It takes what seems like almost thirty minutes for her to finally sit down.
    We eat at the table together, just me, her and our father.
    What was she doing upstairs?
    Getting dressed?
    Trying to convince herself it’ll be okay if she eats a little?
    I carefully watch her, concerned, reluctant.
    Her pale blue eyes, almost lifeless, stares down at the plate of food in front of her.
    She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, picking up her fork.

    I hear her gulp as she slowly opens her eyes.
    She exhales and stabs at the scrambled eggs on her plate.
    “Hey, you know that you need food,” I kindly tell her, hoping she heeds my words.
    More than likely she won’t.
    At least not any time soon.
    We all know she needs help.
    All three of us.
    She’s drowning in her eating disorder.

    She looks up at our father and then at me.
    “Stop staring at me,” she demands.
    Do you see what we see?
    You’re skin and bones!

    I look away and start on a conversation with our father.
    “You know, father, since you’re going to be very busy running this school.”
    “Lunar Academy.”
    “I really think that you should hire on a counselor of sorts.”
    Of course, when I say this,
    I’m really thinking of my sister and other people like her.
    That’s what’s going on inside of my heart.

    As if she knows I’m referring to her, she glares in my direction.
    “Mark, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard!”
    “You’re telling a psychologist to hire a psychologist!”
    I know our father is a psychologist.
    Even so,
    He’s yet to figure out how to talk her into getting help.
    She’s in her early twenties and has yet to find a job or seek out a boyfriend.

    Our father sighs.
    “Charity, please, lower your voice.”
    “Don’t say things like that to or about your brother.”
    He’s right, but I can see her point in the matter.
    Why hasn’t our father gotten things figured out yet.
    Is he to blame?
    Am I to blame?
    Are we a cursed family?
    Are we cursed by God?

    “I’m done here,” she says as she places her palms against the edge of the table.
    She pushes her chair back.
    She then proceeds to stand,
    She takes one glance in my direction.
    She shakes her head.
    She turns her back towards us and then leave.
    Just like that.
    She leaves.
    Storm clouds hover over our little family of three.
    We can’t save her, can we?

    I’m determined to chase after her.
    I want to remind her once more that I love her very much.
    I want to tell her that I’m very worried about her.
    I shove my chair aside and stand up quickly.
    “Hold it right there!”
    She is slowly destroying herself!