Unpleasant suspicions

Milán, as much of a bastard he was, had the enchanting manners of an intelligent gentleman. I must admit I treasured every word of his letter. I have always been fond of exquisitely chosen words.
A beautifully written letter was enough to win my heart and could be considered a promise.

Not as though I could had believed any of his promises, I reminded myself acerbically. How could I be still that gullible? I forced myself to remain sober.
He just told something to comfort me, he did not mean it.
Certainly he was just lying. He tended to, Vanda told that, too. I wished I could had asked her about him and what had she meant when she'd called him a bastard, a threat for me.
However, I often let my thoughts drift back to him. I did not need that much to fall for a man. Not much happened with Feri, either, and I remembered him lovingly.

On the other hand, my failed career did not stop bother me. The constant worries about a dim and not too promising future undermined my mental stability. By then, that slight nauseated feeling hardly ever ceased.
I supposed it was because of my anxiety disorders.
My mother had some other suspicions though.
"That idiotic diet of yours made you sick" she said darkly. "I bet your blood sugar is not all right..."

I shuddered.
It made sense. Such a drastic slimming diet could harm one's health badly. I could make anyone feel sick only by telling exactly what had I done in my teens to be slimmer.
I had had some methods which could make Stephen King himself proud. Although the master of horror has had the most intriguing ideas about human body, even he could not suspect that one could thrust her finger into her throat so deeply that she could actually touch the first cartilage of the gorge with her fingertip. (I did not bear it for a long time though. Bulimia had been only two weeks of my life. Just like with sexuality - I was more willing to starve myself one thousand times whilst once have enough of fun only to make myself vomit afterward).
By then, I was afraid it had taken its toll.

This case, I had to go for a control as soon as possible. I was terrified by the very thought - a blood sugar test meant a poke by a needle, which was a dreadful alternative for me. I could not tell why, but I have always had a phobiac terror of any injection needles.

Besides, first of all, considering that once I had had a relationship, a f*, an intercourse with a more than risky case, I had to go for a HIV test.
I dare say I was more than unwilling.