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.

Mum and my dad Hakan were desperate to help me.

Mum didn’t work, so spent every day cooking for me.