Chapter 0179

Hannah

The sleek gray facade of the youth center stood stark against the bright blue sky, its barred windows almost 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 at Sophia, the head counselor from my eating disorder awareness group—and my partner in the campaign. “I had no idea.” Sophia grimaced, nodded tersely, and echoed my sentiment. “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 rehabilitation center for minors and less like a prison.

Honestly, the fact that I hadn’t noticed this place before now made me sick to my stomach. For too long, I had ignored my pack, focusing instead on my own ego and turmoil. Even if I were returning to my rightful pack soon, I couldn’t leave Nightcrest with places like this still scattered around.

I hadn’t spoken to Noah in several days, and I was afraid to since our last encounter. Perhaps I’d try going through Scott, have him relay the message.

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 labyrinthine hallways to the eating disorder ward, and soon we were pushing through 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 is our eating disorder ward’s communal room,” the nurse in pink explained, gesturing to the surrounding chairs, plastic-covered sofas, and folding tables. A small television sat in the corner with a few teenagers gathered around it; patients were scattered at tables playing various board games and engaging in other activities.

One thing stood out: the complete and utter lack of color. It was as if someone had thrown up gray and beige all over the 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 the nurse in pink. The cameras zoomed toward us, Emily directing them for the perfect documentary shots.

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

+25 BONUS

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

“Hm. What’s the 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 the games were so worn you could barely 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 were especially young, which truly broke my heart. Some were deathly skinny, some 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 appear 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. A slight young girl sat at a nearby table, wringing her hands nervously. Various pieces of construction paper lay before her, and at least a dozen paper cranes were spread out on the table.

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

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

“Hmm…” I paused, turning the tiny paper crane 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.

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 this place provided, of course, but they missed their friends, their families, their classmates.