Numbers

Nothing About Your Obsession

Numbers. They are naturally everywhere. Never failing. Always constant. Always stuck suckling my thoughts. Taking control of them. Numbers can determine what makes you and what breaks you. Constantly, they break me.

My therapist snaps, yanking me from my thoughts. Her fingers rub together vigorously as she snapped. "Hm. Um yeah?" 

"I was saying that we're far enough into the treatment. Meaning it's time you share your story  that put you in here with me. Nothing about you obsession with your weight gain and your weight loss. Nothing about you obsession with models. The story that put you in that mindset."

My stomach churns and my mind goes up in flames. "I really don't see why that even matters." I say. Bitterness drips from every word.

"Everything matters in this space Robin. Even if you think it's stupid or doesn't matter, it does." She smiles slightly and nods for me to go ahead.

I sigh in distaste. "What do you wanna know?"

"Everything." She exhales gesturing for me to talk.

I inhale sharply before I begin. "I was 14. Usual story of someone broken. Dad was a drunk and didn't work. He wasn't necessarily a 'bad dad'. He did everything a 'good dad' would. But his joy about doing it was lost somewhere in this clandestine world. He mostly drank to hide his hurt. But I could see it, we all could. Just something got turned off. He tried to fill the gaping void. A couple years ago, I lost my baby brother in a house fire. He and my dad were very close. Everyone handles death and sadness differently. I didn't hate him for it. It would be hypocritical if I did. My mom got laid off and couldn't find work for months. So she found other ways to support the family, she gambled. A lot. Most of the time, she would win. But I don't know what happened. One night she just was continuously losing. She lost all of the money. Not one cent to buy dinner for that night. So she borrowed money form a loan shark. I don't know how much time she had to pay them back but I guess she didn't. I was up stairs laying in my brothers bed when I heard my mom being knocked around in the living room." My words starts squeezing my lungs and my eyes sting as I re-see what I've tried so hard to forget.

"Your'e doing great Robin." She nods "Go ahead"

I clear my throat and muster up the drowned memory. "At first I thought it was my dad. And that he had too much to drink. But I couldn't see that, he sits and drinks all dayand nothing like this has ever happened. I thought maybe he just snapped. Maybe my mom said the wrong thing and he lost it you know?" Tears slowly glide down my cheeks. " I called the police and told them that my dad was hitting my mom. But when I hung up something seemed off. I heard yelling. My moms voice and someone elses.  She screamed for me. Screamed for my brother. Screamed for my dad." My tears drowned out my voice. 

"It's okay."

I cough and hiccup as I try to gather my scattered words. "I ran downstairs and there's this guy. Huge guy choking the life out of her. She begged and so did I. 'Wheres the money?' He just kept screaming at her. His voice held so much bass and anger. My mom told me to run but I couldn't. My knees were like noodles and my feet were plastered to the floor. My mom was pressed hard against the wall. The picture of my brother was on the floor shattered and all I could do was stand there wide eyed and afraid. H-he held a gun up at me as he looked into my mothers eyes and hissed so remorselessly, 'Tell me or your little girl insides will be pastured on the wall behind her.' She just begged and begged. His breathing became so heavy and unnatural. 'BANG!'