Insatiably You | l.s.

Chapter 11

In hopes that this chapter will give you a little down time after your exams <3

Mention of possible triggering actions (mostly in the beginning half alone). Read at your own discretion. 

Waking up to the sound of a creaking door and not due to the feeling of fitful sleep, is not something I would have expected to be happening to me, after this evening's encounter. I expected to wake up to the feeling of hands clawing at my body and to the feeling of wishing to shove my fingers down my throat to rip off my oesophagus. 

I expected to want to run to the bathroom the minute my eyes opened, just so I could stick my fingers down my throat like I clinically remembered doing when I was younger, to tickle my gag reflex and empty the contents of my body. 

I expected to crave the ache I had grown so accustomed to feeling in my stomach and to want the buzzing dizziness in my head.

After all, at that point in my life I had no control over anything, just like I hadn't in the alleyway, but by doing that, by purging, I regained control over something when I felt as though I had none.

I expected the thoughts of purging to be my first reaction, because, as well as it giving me control over the situation, maybe, just maybe it would have been able to help me forget the way Axel disgustingly felt in my mouth. 

I expected to crave the feeling of that foreign yet all too familiar burn I had gotten so high on when I was a younger teenager. 

I expected myself to run to the only source of comfort I remembered having when I was younger. I expected myself to run to the consolation I so frequently remembered using to punish myself, for having a bulbous stomach and thick flabby arms and thighs, which led to no one wanting me. 

After all, then I thought it was my fault I ended up that way (not due to puberty), but soon enough I found a way to gain back the control I so desired.

When I was younger, I thought I should have never taken seconds when I was still hungry after skipping a meal due to our lack of money. That I should have been in more control of my actions, not waiting till when my mind tricked me into believing I was overweight to do something about it. Then I thought I should have just gone to bed hungry instead of sneaking in some crackers after we were unable to provide a decent dinner that certain day.

Yet, I never did have the control I needed then, which led to me having to purge because if I didn't no one would have ever wanted me, especially not myself.

I still remember the day my mother had found out about my self-inflicted punishment, however, unlike what everyone would have thought my reaction to be, I didn't mind. I thought it to be so opportune she found me when she did. As after all, when she did I had already seen myself at a desirable weight again where I barely needed to purge anymore. 

She found me when if I continued to purge it would have just been because of temptation and not because of control. Which led to me being immensely happy, as after all, the real reason behind me purging was always control.

My form of control then was purging. It brought me relief and comfort in my weakest and most stressful times, when my life seemed so out of my control. I saw it then as my coping mechanism. It was, for quite some time.

This is why, I expected myself to run towards this method again, as just like when I was sixteen (after the death of my father), I was back in another helpless situation which I had no control over.

When I was younger, my mind made me feel as though I couldn't get rid of my disgusting layers of fat quickly enough for me to want to stay, but, at least I took control of that situation then. I found a way to control my eating, to control my weight and size. I was able to get myself from being what I saw as overweight at one hundred and forty-eight pounds at sixteen to being a little over one hundred.