after they met her

twentytwo

TW - ED

i v a n a

The following days were horrible. I felt like everything was being drained from me, piece by piece. Anxiety sat like a constant weight in my chest, making every breath feel tiresome. Eating, something that once brought comfort, had become more painful than I ever imagined. I never felt like this before, and it terrified me.

My brothers had made an eating plan for me to gain weight. They watched me eat every day—in the morning, in the afternoon, and in the evening.

Have you ever been so sad that it physically hurts?

There was nothing I could do to control anything here. It was "Ivana this" and "Ivana that". I slept, ate, and did homework. A day after the incident, my brothers turned back into who they were before. Apparently, my father left again, but I couldn't forget how they changed, how they treated me, how they proceeded to treat me. I think they noticed, too. I couldn't get close to them; it made me sick. I couldn't spend time with them; it made me sick. I couldn't even look at them; it made me sick.

Am I overreacting? Is it actually my fault? My thoughts were in chaos. I blamed them, then myself, then my father, and then my past, over and over again. What is wrong with me? Sometimes, I walked around in my room, feeling like I was burning calories. I started counting them, realizing how much they made me eat. Whenever I was alone, I did crunches, I walked around, I planked. I did everything in my power, but it wasn't enough. I think I'm going crazy.

I lost my control.

"Ivana, is everything alright?" Matthew asked me. I looked up. Oh, I wasn't in my room. We were eating dinner. I nodded, shoving the food in front of me down my throat. Everything looked horrible to me. Why? I liked food. I liked tasting food. I just wanted to control something. Was that so wrong?

"Ivana?" This time, Asher called me. He was standing in my room. "Come downstairs, it's time to eat."

What? Wasn't I eating just a moment ago?

I walked downstairs, everyone waiting for me, the breakfast already on my plate.

Disgusting.

"Ivana, how are you feeling today?" I didn't answer at first. "I'm okay." We continued eating.

"Maybe you should try getting over what happened. You rarely smile these days," Matthew said, giving me a warm smile. I stared at him. Why should I smile?

"Ivana, why are you staring at your food? I ordered your favorite pizza," Gray questioned me.

Huh? I looked down. Where did my breakfast go?

"Good job! You managed to gain some weight over one week! Father will be happy. Don't you feel better already, Ivana?"

I stared at the number on the scale.

Why am I standing on a scale?

Logan was grinning at me. He wanted to give me a high five, but I just walked away. My head hurt. I felt tired.

What day was it?

I didn't understand what was going on. What was happening to me.

Every day blurred into the next, a haze of forced meals and empty stares. My room became a prison. I moved mechanically, feeling like a puppet whose strings were pulled by everyone but myself. They thought they were helping, but each forced meal, each command, chipped away at the little bit of myself I had left.

At night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The darkness was thick, pressing down on me. My mind raced, thoughts looping in endless circles. Why couldn't I control anything? Why did I feel so powerless? I thought of Ray, wondering how he was. Did he blame me now too?