A stalker and an eating disorder

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After Spanish class, I went to my locker but there was another kid at it. He seemed to be rummaging through my stuff. He noticed me and before I saw his face, he threw the locker door shut and ran away. I checked to make sure all of my belongings were still there, and luckily they were.

-time skip to lunch-

I sat at the lunch table with my lunchbox in front of me. I didn't dare to open it though. I couldn't let myself eat. I didn't deserve food, I deserved to starve until I became skinny enough to eat again. I was so hungry, the hunger was eating up my insides but I couldn't let myself eat. I decided that I would eat dinner, just to keep Mat and Steph in the dark about what I was doing. I took the sandwich from inside my lunchbox and tossed it into a trash barrel. Then, when Alex came by my lunch table begging for food as usual, I gave him my apple. I had successfully gotten through lunch without contaminating my body with any food.

-time skip to getting off of the bus-

I walked off the bus satisfied with the day and the rehearsal. We were well on our way to an awesome production. I had worked on my solo today, the choreography was incredible and it was starting to sound great. I had also gotten through the whole day without consuming a crumb. However, that would need to end soon to make sure that Mat and Steph didn't suspect a thing. As I was going into the house I checked my phone, there was an old notification. Another airtag notification from when I got out of school. Then it all started to make sense. That is what that kid was doing in my locker! He was slipping an AirTag into my backpack! I went into my house and dropped my bag onto the ground. I knelt down and started to frantically search it. Mat noticed from the other room and came over to check on me. "Y/N, what's going on?" "I got another AirTag notification! There was a kid who was at my locker this morning! It was probably him! Why didn't I check my phone earlier! I'm so stupid! I led him directly here!" I started yelling at myself and rubbing my forehead out of stress.

Mat sensed that I might have a panic attack like I did yesterday. He kneeled down next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. "Don't beat yourself up over this. Everything is going to be okay. Let's just focus on finding it." I started hyperventilating and was on the verge of tears. "Take a breath." He told me. I did and then he helped me look for it. We found it in the front pocket and I disabled it. "Maybe tomorrow you should ask to take your backpack to class. Just explain the situation to your teachers and I bet they'll make an exception." He suggested. "Okay, I will." He checked the time. "I have to get back to work, see you at dinner." He went back up to the office and I went to my room. I was starting to get lightheaded from the lack of food. It helped to look at social media again. At all of those dream bodies in the pictures. The thought of maybe looking like that myself motivated me to exercise some more. Even though I was tired. Even though I was starving. Even though I didn't want to. After about thirty minutes of sit-ups and jumping jacks, Steph called me for dinner. Now I could reward myself with food. Only a little bit though, if I just ate everything that I wanted to, I would undo all of the hard work I had done in desire of that perfect body and weight.

I went to dinner and instead of gobbling all of my food like the starving beast that I was, I ate at the slowest pace that I could manage. When Steph offered dessert I declined and insisted that I was full. I went back to my room and couldn't help feeling so guilty for how much I ate. I forced myself to do even more push-ups and sit-ups until my stomach muscles felt like they were going to split open. I decided that I had done enough for the night and that tomorrow I would wake up early to go for a strenuous run. Maybe after that, I would lose a few pounds. I did my homework and then before I knew it, it was nine thirty and I was ready for bed. I set my alarm for five thirty the next morning. I needed to get up super early if I wanted to go on a long run. I climbed into bed, flicked my lamp off, and fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning to that painfully annoying alarm. It was still pitch dark outside but I knew that I would feel guilty for going back to bed. I silently changed into shorts and a tight-fitting t shirt, put on my sneakers, and headed out of the door making as little noise as possible. I waited until I was a street away to stretch. Once I was done stretching, I started to jog around the block, gradually picking up speed. After four or five laps, my muscles started to ache. My calves began to burn. My lungs were desperate for air. The pain was addicting. It was almost better than cutting myself. At six fifteen I decided that it was time to go back. I was supposed to wake up in forty five minutes and it would be weird and suspicious if I was all sweaty when I went to eat breakfast. I took off my shoes outside and tiptoed into my room. I wiped the sweat off my body with my shirt. Then, I changed back into my pajamas that I had left on my floor. Now, my stomach was hurting from that empty hole in it. I needed to consume SOMETHING. I went into the kitchen and drank two tall glasses of water, maybe I would be able to trick my stomach into thinking that it was full. I had sufficiently cooled off and I still had twenty five minutes until I had to wake up. I went back to bed and soaked in the next half hour of relaxation.

Trauma-ridden and adopted by matpatWhere stories live. Discover now