I Don't Even Know ❇ malum au

19

Fetus 5SOS are priceless - I swear.  In this ^pic^, Mikey's just like 'yep, these are my buds n we're chill'; Ash's like 'just gonna stand here n look pretty for this one'; Cal's like 'dudes, I gotta like peak over y'all's shoulders to get in this'; and Luke's just like 'I'm tired n I hate this band'.

It was the day after Calum had seen the marks.

I felt stupid, awful, fat, ugly, and just like a burden in general.  Yes, he had told me that I wasn't.  And I wanted to believe him, too.

Hell, somewhere deep down, I was sure that I still believed him.  But the worries took over, and he had already left.  I wasn't going to send out yet another distressed text message.

But as I held the scale in my hands and prepared to set it down so that I could take my weight, I refused to cry.  I gently set it on the floor, quickly and thoroughly checking that it was in balance.

I smoothed out my long shirt, the only thing I wore so that it wouldn't add anything to my weight.  I took a deep breath, stepping on the scale, and faced reality.

I quietly prayed beneath my breath, had my fingers crossed, and then I glanced down to see what it read.

100

I weighed one hundred pounds.  I didn't know if that were a good thing or a bad thing.  I had lost weight, but was it too much?  I was 5'5'', I didn't think that I should weigh that little.  That was even a little low for what a model my height may've weighed.

I was conflicted.  I didn't know if should have felt happy or if I should have felt sad.  Though, I was surely disappointed.  I was disappointed because, I didn't know if it was good or bad.  So, this confusion led to a negative mood.

My worries were still at bay.

So, I just figured that it was off balance.  I was convinced that it was lying.  Just like I was convinced that everything else was a lie.

So, I did what any other enraged teenager would have done.  I picked up the scale, going to the patio in the backyard, and I flung it to the grass covered ground just beyond the fencing of the lounging area.

As it hit the ground, I watched it break.  I sighed, figuring that I'd regret breaking the device later.  Though, at that moment, I didn't care about what would happen in the future.

I was desperate for aspirin.  Though, I knew that I had thrown it all away.  I hated myself so much for getting rid of it.  I wanted to go back and un-dump it from the garbage disposal.

Though, I knew that wasn't possible.

So, I did the next best thing.

•••

I was staring at my father's liquor cabinet again.  I felt like a kid in a candy store.  Like an idiot with a bottle full of idiocy just sitting in front of me - waiting to be put to its natural born use.

Rather than the rust colored liquid, I chose a different one, this time.  It was a glass bottle full of a clear liquid.  I didn't bother to examine the name.  I just bothered to pick it up and make my way upstairs with it.

Once I was up the stairs, I had taken quite a few good swigs of it.  I made my way to the main floor powder room, the bottle still in hand.

I looked in the mirror, absolutely despising what I saw.  Everything about me was fucked up.  I couldn't even begin to describe what all was wrong with the image that I saw.

It wasn't even a view a parent could love.

And in the time that I was busy critiquing what I saw, I realized that the liquid didn't taste so bad after a while.  I got used to the burning sensation that lingered in my throat after each gulp of the shit.

And it wasn't until I had drank over half the bottle that I decided to make myself stop.  I felt tears falling down my face, and my legs felt weaker than they ever had before.

I managed to stumble my way out to the front yard, then angrily throwing the bottle filled with what was left of the liquor, it colliding with a tree and then shattering.

At least I didn't have to worry about wanting to drink it again later.

•••

I stumbled back in my home, sloppily locking the door.  I decided that maybe I should go ahead and go to bed.  I went over to the stairway to the basement, frowning at the distance from me to the bottom floor.

I told myself I could do it, and I did.  That is - until I got to the last few steps.  I tumbled down about seven steps, luckily not hitting my head.

I groaned once my movements ceased, already feeling pain in my legs and back.

"Mikey, Mikey, Mikey," I sighed to myself, "you're a fuck-up."

With that, I just decided to stay there, partially laying on the bottom step.

(A/N)  I had originally planned for this to be an entry, but it had too much shit in it to just be an entry.  So, yeah...
I hope it wasn't too boring.

Okay, so, if you're anything like me - you should love the next chapter, js... Js...

Xx