Until she wins

7- eating

(TW- ed!)

I thanked the driver as I got out of the taxi. I took a deep breath as I looked up the car filled driveway to my house. I knew that my dad was going to be angry with me but I still hoped that he would show some concern for me. I walked up to the door nervously and rang the bell. About 30 seconds later my dad opened the door. I smiled at him weekly but in return I received a glare. I sighed, picking up my bags and heading into the hallway. 

"I got you some food. It's in the kitchen." my dad said without looking at me.

"I'm ok thanks, I've eaten already." I lied

"That wasn't a question Abigail! I can't have you messing any more of Max's race's up!" he snapped. This was what I'd expected, my dad only tries to help me so that him or Max would benefit. Also I hated when people called me Abigail, my dad always did it just to annoy me.

 Not wanting to get into an argument, I followed him into the kitchen where there was a sandwich and crisps waiting for me. I sat down on one of the stools and pulled the plate towards me. 

"You're not leaving until that's all gone!" he said, still not making eye contact with me.

"But..." I argued.

"NO BUTS ABIGAIL! JUST EAT THE FUCKING FOOD!" 

Tears were forming in my eyes but I was determined to not let them fall in front of my dad. I picked up the sandwich and reluctantly took a bite. It somehow tasted worse than it looked. For the first time since I had arrived, my dad was looking at me. His gaze made me feel uncomfortable so I quickly finished my sandwich and began on the crisps. Once I'd finished everything I took my plate over to the dishwasher. 

"Can I go now?" I asked, tentatively. My dad nodded in response.

Immediately I ran upstairs to my room. I felt so disgusting and guilty. How was I meant to loose weight if I just kept eating. I wanted to go to the gym straight away and burn off the calories, but working out would just make me sick after food. That was it... I needed to make myself sick after I ate because then people could see me eat, but they wouldn't know I was throwing it back up after and therefore I couldn't gain weight. It was perfect. 

I grabbed my laptop and looked up how to make myself sick. The easiest looking way was by using my finger down my throat. I scrunched up my nose as I thought of how gross it sounded. However I needed to do it if I wanted to get skinny.

I got up, picked up a hairband and locked myself in the bathroom. I tied my hair back and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I hated the girl I saw staring back. She was too fat, had an awful complexion, had ugly hair and was embarrassed of her scars. That was only a few of the things I hated about myself. Taking a deep breath I lifted the toilet seat up and kneeled down in front of it. 

I opened my mouth and pushed my finger right to the very back. Instantly I jerked my head forward as I began to gag slightly. It was working at least. I did it for a second time and gagged again but still nothing came up. Why wasn't anything happening? I was already starting to get in a state. The tears I had held back earlier were now cascading down my cheeks. I opened my mouth and tried again. This time it worked. I quickly withdrew my hand as I felt the vomit rising up. It reached my mouth and without pausing I spat it out in the toilet. It tasted disgusting. It smelt awful too. 

I got up, flushing it away, before washing my hands and face. I also brushed my teeth to get the taste away. I knew that I shouldn't be, but I was somehow proud of what I'd accomplished. This way everyone would assume I was still eating when in reality I basically wasn't. 

I unpacked my bags feeling weak again. I didn't feel like this because of what I'd just done, I felt like this because I was scared. I was so scared of being here alone again with my dad.