The World Never Wanted Me •Frerard•

Nineteen: It Makes No Difference I'm Insignificant

Ayyy

I don't even know. How are you today?

Cool cool.

2K READS YUSSSS

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*clears throat*

I posted the second chapter of my new teacherxstudent so you should totally read it ;)

I say that way too much.

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*trigger warning (eating disorders)*

Chapter Nineteen

I woke up on Saturday morning to the feeling of breath on my neck. I looked to my side to see Frank curled up next to me on my small bed, and smiled softly at his sleeping figure. His mouth was partially open and his eyes were closed lightly in peaceful sleep. I knew his peaceful manner would be ruined when he woke up and received the full force of the hangover that he would surely have.

I slid out of bed and headed to the restroom. I looked at my pale reflection in the mirror, and lifted up my shirt to reveal my stomach; the stomach that I had been ashamed of as long as I could remember. I moved my hands down my hips and up my stomach, staring at my pale skin as I did.

For the first time- much like how it had been with my scars- I saw what I really looked like. My bony hips jutted out, the semi-curved bones extremely visible agains my skinny stomach. I had never seen myself like this. For years, I had thought I was overweight. No matter how much I lost, I always wanted to lose more. I felt like I had been mislead by my own mind; deceived by none other than myself.

For a brief instant, I saw myself for what I was, but then that nagging little voice in the back of my mind grinned and opened its wide mouth.

"You only wish you were skinny," it sneered. "You're actually not. You don't even have a thigh gap!"

Though moments earlier, I could've sworn I saw myself with a thigh gap, I now observed that the voice was right. I was now where near skinny enough. There was no way I would let Victor, my mother, or anyone else make me eat.

My hands returned to my sides, this time pinching the skin between my fingers, making my stomach twist.

My train of quite unpleasant thoughts was broken as I felt my phone vibrate in the pocket of my jeans (which I had apparently worn to bed).

I grabbed it and opened the message.

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From: Brendon

Why the fuck haven't you called me?

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Oops.

I suppose I should've notified my friends that I was okay. I sighed and began texting back.

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To: Brendon

Sorry, Bren. I'm okay now , don't worry.

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Before I could exit the bathroom, my phone once again buzzed.

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From: Brendon

You were with Frank, weren't you? ;)

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I sniggered quietly and looked towards the sleeping figure of Frank on my bed. His face was partially smushed against the pillow, and his pale arms were sprawled against the pitch-black sheets. I typed out a smug reply to Brendon's text and went back to my bedroom.