¶𝗥𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗕𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗺 [H.S]

1.16

That night I cried myself to sleep. The morning after wasn't easier too. I needed to get my anger out, and ripping the dress I stole with Blake wasn't enough. My therapist would've said I was having a manic episode if he saw me sitting naked on the floor, ripping a dress with my bare hands. My sheets were drenched in tears, and I started rotting under the covers. For two days, I stayed in my bedroom, snacking on things I should've said and getting full on the ones I had said. I watched Survivor so the night would end faster. And I didn't answer Tom's messages because it felt like a betrayal, even though it wasn't. In those two days, I felt lighter. I liked to think it was because I had drowned all my worries in the pool of my tears. When actually, it was because I had lost a pound or two. When my anger was no longer waiting to hunt me down in the dark corners of my room, I finally took my phone in my hands. I didn't trust myself the nights before. But now I was confident only about one thing - I was going to throw the goddamn party as if it was my last because it probably was. I texted everyone I knew about the party and posted it on all my socials for everyone I didn't know.

"Good morning, Miss Melanie," Amanda greeted me when she saw me walking into the kitchen.

"Good morning," I said back with a raspy voice. I hadn't spoken for days.

My eyes dropped to the only plate on the kitchen island as I sat on the barstool. Salad, boiled egg, and grapefruit - the menu of the richest. I wanted to laugh at the portion.

"Am I alone today too?" I asked, following Amanda with my eyes as she went to unpack the few boxes in the kitchen corner. More decor for Liam's birthday party had arrived.

"Yes, miss. Your father is at work, and your brother decided to celebrate his birthday early with his college friends." He doesn't have friends. "Oh, and your father bought your gift for the birthday," she added, walking around before coming back to me with a small black box.

I wasn't even surprised. I couldn't buy a hand watch or shirt cuffs on my own. Who was I to do so? I didn't check what was in the shiny box. It had already been bought, decided. It didn't matter if I liked it because my father had already favored it for me. I put the box beside the plate of Eating Disorder. I didn't want to eat something he chose for me at the beginning of the week. I wanted something spontaneous. I wanted something bad for me. Something too heavy for breakfast. I wanted a burger. I hadn't eaten a fat, oily burger in forever. Thanks to Liam, I knew how poorly they were made. And since he wasn't a fan, he had to ruin it for me too. He always kept reminding me how bad it was for my health, and maybe this was the reason I wanted it so badly this morning. I no longer had any bad habits. The worst I could do was eat a cheeseburger.

On the way to the fast food restaurant, I grabbed my brother's old car keys. It was weird driving through the city without a license. I'm not sure where I found that bravery to get his car without permission, let alone use it. Actually, I passed my test, but then they did a drug test, and I didn't have anyone under my arm to change my urine with. And even after I was out of rehab, a driving license never even crossed my mind. A side of me was proud that I didn't rust after not driving for about a year. But the other side felt guilty. But what was driving a car without a license next to murder and stealing a cop car?

I enjoyed my burger in the parking lot of the fast food restaurant. I didn't feel like being surrounded by people. Seating on top of the car hood, I chewed the soft burger bun, letting the cheese melt in my mouth. I had missed that feeling. When I used to be a regular, I would eat fries and burgers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But back then, I did a lot of amphetamines, and no one could tell how bad my diet was. Now, I felt guilty about eating a burger in months. If Liam were here, he would've talked my ear off with obesity, lack of energy, and every bad thing that burgers led to.