Hated

Back to my Old Ways

I pull on my size thirteen jeans, and wince at the pain my scars still bring me. Wrists aren’t the only canvas’ people use. I can feel my scars through the jeans, wanting me to create more. I would if I knew I could get away with it. My mom nearly saw them just this morning, and I don’t want my luck to change.

Hoping to get to school late, I pull on my bra slowly and tear up when I see the tag. 40B. A number I thought a monster would wear. I guess I was right.

Putting on my oversized pink t-shirt and watch, I look in the mirror. My curly brown hair is frizzy again so I water it down. My blue eyes sparkle with hate as they look across my gigantic body. My pale blonde skin reflects the light to the point where I close my eyes to stop my headache from growing.

I turn off the light without opening my eyes and walk out of the bathroom. The air becomes thinner and I feel as though I can finally breath. I put my hand just below my chest and feel the rumbles echo in my stomach. I haven’t eaten today, but I wasn’t going to let a little pain get to me.

I go to the kitchen and get a huge glass of water. The water glides down my dry throat like I have been living in a desert. My mom walks up the stairs with a towel on her head and a water trail behind her.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” She asks, trying to pull on her socks.

“Yeah.” I lie through my teeth.

“Good because we are going to be late.” She grabs our shoes and slides mine across the light blue tiled floor. I squish them on my fat feet and walk out the door with my book bag and purse. I don’t wear backpacks because they make me bigger than I already am. And no one needs that.

When I arrive at school, I feel like everyone is staring at me. It’s only the second day but it feels like it has been an eternity. My mom boots me out of the car then speeds away without saying ‘I love you’.

Principle McKile watches the kids from the office window. His eyes go back and forth between reading the texts on his phone and shining fear into every student who meets his gaze. He is a bulky six foot five inch man who doesn’t play around. Even the teachers are scared of him.

I skip math class and go straight to the counselor like I am going to do everyday for the rest of the year. My mom set me up on a fancy little platter and handed me over to Ms. Snac with a silver knife so she could cut into my life and stitch me back up thirty minutes before the end of math.

Ms. Snac welcomes me with open arms but I reject them and walk into the room without saying a word. She closes the door behind me and offers me the pink foam chair but I decline and stand. That should burn a couple of calories.

“So. Tell me how your day is going.” Awful. Why am I here in the first place? I should be stuffing my face with ice cream and cake-

“Good….” It’s all I can get out before I take a seat to stop me from fainting.

“Did you eat anything today?” Do you really think I would take the chance of gaining weight?

“Yeah, waffles.” I rest my head on my hands and try to stop my head from spinning. “I just have a headache, that’s all.” She opens up her cupboard and pulls out a small yellow box of orange juice.

“Drink. I can’t keep doing this everyday.” She hands me the box and I take it thankfully. Walking over to the garbage, I read the back as I peel off the wrapper of the straw. Thirty-nine calories.