Two Days From Death

Cazandra’s little sister saved her life in the nick of time…

- Cher Heasmer/Charlotte Nisbet

Cazandra Zetterberg, 19,

Norrkoping, Sweden

Holding up my T-shirt, I scrutinised every inch of my stomach.

I'm so fat, I fretted, pinching a bit of skin.

It was May 2013, and I wanted to shed a few pounds.

But I was far from overweight. In fact, I was a petite 8st.

Yet, for some reason, I was convinced that I needed to lose weight. 

I can’t explain why. I just hated the way I looked, was really self-conscious. 

Starving myself was my way of making myself feel better. Every pound I lost felt like an achievement. 

I limited myself to just a few carrot sticks a day. And I’d weigh myself every hour, obsessing over how heavy I was.

‘Why aren’t you eating your dinner?’ my mum Madeline would ask me. 

‘Not hungry,’ I’d lie.

Aged 17, she thought I was just being a complicated teenager. My weight soon plummeted.

Just two months on, I’d shed more than 1st.

My clothes hung from my skeletal frame, and my hair became brittle.