Dying In Disguise (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 13

Anorexia...freaking...nervosa.

It's funny how a simple textbook could claim to know all the answers about something and no one questioned it. The statistics stated that the condition tends to plague girls from ages twelve to twenty-five, read line fifty-eight, page two-hundred.

Mrs. Peterson rambled on and on lecturing in front of the black board. I tuned out her voice as I scanned through every bullshit lesson within the chapter. 

Dieting.

I was pretty sure that's the word they were looking for. And last time I checked, there was absolutely nothing wrong with that, no matter how "unusually skinny" the person was. We all worked to improve ourselves everyday right? Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't that the basic philosophy of society in America? 

"The main problem of this disorder is that it's psychological. These girls cannot simply see that they are starving themselves. Their view of their bodies are warped, causing the mind to reflect an inaccurate, obscured image." 

The woman made it sound as though she was professionally trained on the minds of adolescent teens. Her appearance proved that she was about thirty years past that stage.

My hand rose to the air. Her deep-set, round eyes fell on me.

"Do you have a question, Kelsi?"

"No. May I use the restroom?"

Her next words were the  cliche teacher response of, 

"Is it an emergency?"

"Yes."

The woman heaved an over-dramatic sigh.

"Go ahead."

I rose, and clasped the textbook shut, before walking out of the seventh period health class. With my eyes trained on the direction of the bathrooms, I entered through a pink-coated stall and slid the lock closed.

"You'll never believe what he told me..."

The all-too familiar voice filtered in as soon as I was out of eye-sight. Rushing water sounded at the sinks as the knob was pulled upwards.

"Yeah?"

This response came from Sheridon. I clasped my eyes shut as my hand balled into a fist, my nails cutting into my skin.

"You remember the other night, after the hockey game."

Christine referred to yet another event that I hadn't participated in. 

"Go on."

"When you and Zoey went to the car, he stayed behind to help me gather my things. First, he handed me the jacket, but then..."

Her voice lowered and it took all my willpower not to rush out in that exact moment. I knew I didn't wanna hear the phrase that came next...but my feet stayed firm. It was almost like another type of torture self-inflicted. 

Suddenly she stopped mid-sentence. She must have sensed the presence of another in the restroom because her next phrase came in the form of a hushed whisper. I listened desperately with an ear pathetically pressed against the stall door, clinging to a mere trace of her words. 

Sheridon gasped out an open-mouthed chuckle, restricting any chances of me hearing a thing.

"No way..." she squealed. "No freaking way."

"Don't tell Zoey." 

Christine's tone held a warning, yet absolute exterior. I could envision Sheridon nodding her puppet head with the strings attached as her feet followed after her.

"Of course not."

The door swung shut with a thud. I tried to swallow the emotions rising inside of me. First came the raging jealousy before it molded into a more dangerous calamity of woe. A clammy coat of sweat lined the palms of my hands and I could practically feel the unsteady motion of my heart in my chest. It hurt worse that I didn't hear what she had to say because now my mind could fabricate it's own ideas. 

Fix it

I didn't know how.

We will fix it.

My trembling legs turned towards the direction of the toilet. They felt as though they would collapse with the next movement I made. My hands clasped the cold surface of the paint-chipped bowl. A hollow hole stared back at me.

This only accelerated my turbulent nerves. 

We have to. It's the only way.

The only contents I'd consumed within the past twelve hours was a bottle of water. I felt it within my body, with its capacity occupying the space in my abdomen. It sloshed with every movement, too heavy for my comfort.

I opened my mouth.

My eyes pressed shut so I didn't have observe my rising index finger.

We can do this.

I was never a fan of it, but the voice pushed on, encouraging me, and edging my finger farther into my mouth. It hovered above my tongue as I mentally prepared for the reflex.

My stomach lurched as a groan sounded somewhere amid the chaos. I grasped the edge of the seat with all my might as my body emptied itself of toxins. The edge of my face  lingered mere inches away from the putrid odor emitting from below. A burning sensation coated my throat, leaving my eyes stinging with tears. 

As I gasped for breath I tried several times to press down on the latch. My quivering hand struggled to grasp the object, finally managing to succeed within the fourth try.

The toilet cried as my contents swirled around until it slid beneath the surface. I clasped a firm hand over my mouth forcing it closed. The remains from my mouth were eventually wiped away with the ends of toilet paper.

A school bell resonated in the distance. As the rush of students filled the halls, I remained sunken on the ground of the bathroom floor. My body felt light and airy, similar to the feeling it held after I'd consumed those pills the other day. But, I knew it was only an illusion. I remained as heavy as I had before I'd drained the poison out of me. The sensation was comforting for the time being, though. I could at least pretend that I would rise from the ground, ten pounds lighter than before I'd collapsed.

My mind was a swarm of thoughts. My body was empty. 

We did it