Diet.

1.2

Uncle Harold was going to jail.

His anger issues often turned into domestic violence towards Aunt Grace, who without a doubt was pregnant with his child.

One day, he snapped and killed her off. He killed himself too.

Drank five bottles of straight vodka after stuffing his pregnant wife into a trunk.

He hadn't tied her up or slit her throat. Swerving off of a bridge and into water was what had killed them.

Suffocation and drowning.

The days of grief without relief were something I couldn't bring myself to hate.

It felt good to release all my pain at once except for experiencing the changes in my mothers mood.

Aunt Grace's death was my mothers downfall.

"You're such a pathetic, and fat piece of shit. You've been on a diet for two years now." She would repeat while throwing my food away for me.

"Eating isn't for you and neither are diets," My own mother would spill cigarettes ashes over my head.

Confiscate my asthma pumps, Attempt to feed me my "happy pills" and even punch me.

"Diets are for people who have potential."

I agree with her now because I have no reason in life. As I rang Autumns door bell with blood trickling from my nose, I wondered if she would help me or tell me to leave.

A low gasp was heard when a half awake Autumn appeared in her doorway.

"I-I had nowhere else to g-go." I whispered before she shook her head.

Opening her door and stepping outside under the moon light. Seconds after, I was kissing my only friend.