“Diana, are you listening?” her therapist asked calmly.

“Sorry,” she apologized, rubbing her eyes. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Well, let me ask again, when was the last time you ate?”

“Um… a couple days ago…? I don’t know. My memory's been a bit bad recently.”

“You know that’s because of the food, right?” the therapist asked. “And I know what you’ve counted as eating. Drinking a smoothie doesn’t count.”

“I just…” Diana turned away.

“Is it still because of her?”

“Maybe…”

“Diana, she can’t hurt you anymore. She’s not forcing you to eat anymore.”

“I know, but… Every time I eat, I can feel her… Her hands forcing my mouth open, shoving the food down my throat…”

“Listen Diana, you’re not doing good. For the past couple months I’ve seen you dangerously starve yourself. I’m going to recommend you to a food therapist, ok?”

“Mhm,” she said, eyes glazing over. The therapist sighed.

“I think that’s all for today. Remember what we talked about, ok?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll get you that recommendation then get you set up with the food therapist hopefully by next week.”

“Ok.”

“Is there anything else you want to bring up?”

“No.”

“Ok,” the therapist sighed. “How’s Ann doing?”

“…”

“Alright, I guess we’re done for today then. Remember to go eat, alright?”

“Mhm.”

*   *   *   *   *

Diana locked her door and peeked out the window to make sure nobody was watching her. Even if nobody was going to get her at her college dorm, she didn’t want to take chances. Carefully, she set the instant ramen on the counter and wobbled over to the couch and fell  on it. Going out was all she could do in one day. She didn’t even get the food for herself.

After a minute of laying, Diana got back up and lumbered over to the bedroom. She walked in to see Ann jump in her bundle of blankets.

“It’s just me,” Diana sighed. “I got your food…”

“Ok…” Ann mumbled. “Later…”

Diana left her alone. Since that night Lonnie died, she ran away and found Diana when she settled into a dorm. She’d been keeping Ann for a couple months. She had gotten paranoid about things and strangers, and refused to go out. She told Diana that Lonnie talked to her sometimes. Warned her about the world. Told her to watch out for things. Diana couldn’t force her out, so she wasn’t exactly going to therapy. She just tried to manage it with Ann on the days she could muster the energy for it.

Diana went back to the kitchen and grabbed a drink. A bottle of alcohol that she couldn’t even read because her vision was so blurred already. She wanted to forget everything that had happened, but the memories kept coming back. Her body already felt like giving up, so she just wanted to put her mind at peace.

As Diana stumbled to the couch, she felt something in her chest feel funny. She gave a few coughs before falling to the ground, her glass shattering on impact with the ground. She hardly felt the glass shards in her hand. She hardly heard Ann rushing out, or when she was shaking her. Diana just closed her eyes. She felt at peace.

*   *   *   *   *

“I got this one.”

“You got the last one.”

“Well, she’s not fitting in BED.”

“I could make a case for suicide.”

“In that case, she could come to depression too-”

“Enough!”

Diana opened her eyes to see a bunch of figures around her behind a table. She was standing in the center of a round table around her. There were men and women staring at her and exchanging whispers. What she saw was right out of a fairy tale. One of those messed up ones too. 

A woman with snakes in her hair and slits in her eyes. A man with a cigarette in his mouth who looked to be falling apart at the seams. A pair of girls who Diana couldn’t quite focus her vision on. A woman whose very skin seemed to be made of dripping ink, with pictures dancing across her body. These were just some of the sights around her.

“Diana Hawthorne,” said a deep voice. “Welcome to the Afterlife.” She looked around to see the source of the voice, but it seemed to be the darkness itself talking. 

“W-who said t-that-” she stammered. She was so afraid and confused. Then in the depths of the darkness, she saw two shining red eyes; one of them looked scratched or scarred.

“Diana Fluffy Hawthorne, age 20. Died from heart failure as a result of cibophobia beset by Nadroj Pauling.”

Surprised whispers passed around the circle. Diana tried to listen, but couldn’t make out any specific words. They talked for several minutes before a man spoke up. The one with the cigarette. He stood up, and appeared to be illuminated better, but Diana took a step back in fear. 

He looked like a half-decayed skeleton, with skin on some parts of his body, but giving away to pure bone in others. His face though was almost entirely just pure skull bone. Zombies in books and movies couldn’t have prepared her for him. The man had no eyes, but had these glowing  red lights in the back of his sockets. They were too dark for her to see what illuminated them, but something told her she didn’t want to know.

“We’ve got a decision,” he said in a drawn out, raspy voice. “She’s with me. She’ll be a fine anorexia rep.”

“Does anyone object?”

Nobody raised their voice.

“Then welcome, Diana Hawthorne, to the ranks of the anorexics.”

“Um,” coughed Diana. “Do I get a-”

“No.”

Diana was teleported out of the dark room and into a kind of living room, falling right on her back next to some couch. The sudden shift was really jarring, and she took a minute to adjust. A few faces were giving her some blank stares. They didn’t know she was coming either.

“Welcome to the ED division,” said a voice. It was a woman on the couch happily eating a really good looking fruit parfait thing. She had blonde hair and a pretty nice and filled out body;  a far cry from most of the people around the room. “Guessing you just died?”

“I… died…?” Diana whispered.

“Happens to all of us,” shrugged the woman. “Ain’t that right, everyone?”

“Nobody likes your jokes!” someone called out. Everyone snickered and quickly went back to what they were doing. Mostly lounging around, talking, or being on social media.

“Don’t mind them,” the woman said, not letting the comment break her smile. “All the bulimics are grouches.”

“Wait, what-”

“You get a pamphlet?”

“A… pamphlet…?”

“Yeah.” 

The woman reached under a coffee table and grabbed a piece of paper, handing it to Diana. On it was the skeletal man she saw before, beside a woman with these phoenix wings and feathers growing out of her body. It read “So I Died and Became an Eating Disorder. What’s Next?”

“This is all so weird…” Diana groaned.

“You’ll get used to it.” She helped Diana off the floor and onto the couch beside her Diana still looked around the room, confused.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Me? I’m Ella, one of the BED reps. Who’re you?”

“Diana Hawthone… Anorexia rep I guess.”

“Welcome to your death, Diana. I’m sure you’ll make some friends here. Consider me your first one!”

*   *   *   *   *

Over the next year, Diana learned where she was, and what she was supposed to do. Apparently she was in a place called the Afterlife, which is one of the afterlifes to go to after you die. Specifically if you weren’t good enough to go to Heaven, and they were able to snatch you from Hell. It was a place where people became living embodiments of mental illness and drove other people who were still alive to their deaths.

She was an anorexia rep, which meant she invaded the mind of someone down in the living world and gave them thoughts to starve themselves to death. A scary thought to her, but she had a job to do. That was the thing about the Afterlife. Apparently they didn’t like people acting out. Refused to do your job or try to challenge authority and you got “retired” from your duties. When you retired, you didn’t get seen again.

One day, Diana was out eating with a couple friends; Ella the BED rep and Rihanna the bulimia rep. More accurately, Ella was eating and Diana and Rihanna were just there. Diana still wasn’t able to eat without being reminded of Nadroj, so she just kept away when she could. Especially around other people. Not like she could die twice, right? The three were sitting at a public eating area.

“Diana?” said a voice behind her. The conversation stopped as Diana turned around to see Ann. She was a bit older and looked a little different, but it was definitely still her. 

“Ann!” Diana cried, jumping up and hugging her. Ann laughed and returned it. “You’re here too?!”

“Yeah, a few months ago I ah, was running from some police trying to get me to social services. I ran out into the street and a truck was coming, and… Well, I’m here now.”

“What kind of rep are you?”

“Agoraphobia. They thought it was best for me. My boss is some lady named Max. She looks like she’s made of ink.”

“Mine’s name is Rex. He’s like a zombie-looking guy.”

“Nice. Oh yeah, Lonnie is here too! She’s an anxiety disorder like me! You’d never believe it, but I was her first assignment! Turns out I really was hearing her in my head-”

“Interesting…”

“Hey skinny,” sneered Rihanna. “Who’s the fatty?”

“Manners,” reminded Ella.

“Hey skinny, who’s the American?” 

All three of them, being Americans, looked at her.

“Ugh, fine, who’s the redhead?”

Diana laughed and sat Ann down with them. For just a moment though, she felt a sense of dread, like something was wrong. She looked around, confused for a minute. It was familiar, but different. Like being stalked by the air itself…

“Yo, Diana,” Ella said, calling her attention away. “Something wrong?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Just my imagination.”

“Whatever,” Rihanna rolled her eyes. “Just tell us who’s this…” Rihanna paused for a second, getting a nasty look as she thought.

“You don’t have to think so hard on how to insult her,” said Ella.

“Shut it, fatty. Who is she?”

“Well, this is Ann,” Diana smiled. “Back when I was living…”

Diana recounted to them the story of her and Ann met, along with the whole scenario with Nadroj. It wasn’t often that people told how they died, because most of them were anticlimactic and lame, but this story really was something.

A bit far off, watching the four of them from another table, a woman sat with a sadistic expression on her face, like she’d push you off a bridge just to hear the impact. Her skin was ash gray, and her hair dark black. Around her neck was a golden necklace with a golden knife pendant on it. The thing that stood out was the knife in her chest, its handle sticking out slightly where her heart was. She couldn’t get it out. Nobody else could no matter how hard they pulled. She knew the one meant to yank it out though.

“I should’ve known we’d end up in the same place like you said, honey,” she sighed with a wide smile and dreamy eyes. “Not even death could separate us.”