CHAPTER 46: 𓆩♡𓆪

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Diary entry #13
February 3, 2007.

My mam made Irish beef stew paired with bread and Coke for dinner. I wanted to eat it - It looked so good. Beyond good. My mom has never been a bad cook, so it's humiliating knowing that I was born this way and unable to eat some of her delicious meals. I miss the days when I was little, how I would gobble everything she gave me right up.

I watched her set the table as I got water from the fridge (My diet, as of late). My heart hurted and my stomach clenched. She looked so eager. So eager for me to just take one bite.

The bread itself tempted me enough to eat. It was warm and soft, I knew it. Yet those memories flooded my brain again - Memories of me eating with the Siren at my side, memories of me sitting at the lunch table surrounded by all my friends, memories of people calling me a pig and telling me to starve.

I ended up taking a bite of bread that almost made me choke and put a spoonful of hot stew into my mouth that caused me to huff. My jaw refused to work with me as I swallowed it all down and drank my mam's Coke right afterwards. The burn was unsatisfactory.

I told her I was full and went up to my room to write all of this. I couldn't see her be so disappointed like that. I just couldn't.

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