Fıx you {H.S.}

3| Helplessly

This chapter listen to Helplessly by Tatiana Manaois
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My reflection in the mirror blinked back at me as I stood in my room, my hands by my sides and my face showing no emotion. I took the time to point out every flaw I had and really study everything. I was pale with dark brown hair that sat in long waves down my back and I had big blue shining eyes. My lips were thin and my cheeks were puffy, not gaunt. I had long eyelashes and a slim nose and a round yet thin face. My body was skinny, but not thin. I wasn't just skin and bone, you could see my fat. My legs were long and slim with about a 3cm thigh gap standing normally and my arms were slightly thinner than normal. It was my stomach I hated. It wasn't fat, but it wasn't prettily skinny either. I didn't have curves or big breasts, I was just flat. Everything was flat.

On my forehead sat the word lovely, written in thick black marker in my messy cursive handwriting as I had written it on the mirror. My gaze followed the edging of the mirror where a border had started of just the word written over and over again.

I didn't feel lovely, that's for sure. I didn't stop eating to become lovely, I stopped because my dad died. And now, I was stuck in this huge mess where I was skinny and alone and broken and I wished I hadn't looked at the stars that night and I wished I was dead right now. I wished I died then. Life would of been so much easier. Because now what? I'm stuck here trying to fix a problem that's unfixable and trying to heal someone that simply just can't be.

Beside me on my desk sat an apple that Maria had obviously put there and I reached out and grabbed it before studying the red fruit warily. I hadn't eaten an apple since a few weeks ago, and that was because mum had told me to have lunch with her in the kitchen. I did eat, just not a lot besides apples. And even then, I ate them rarely. I suppose if I didn't eat at all I would become very thin very fast and mum would notice and I didn't want her to notice anything about me that was out of the usual.

I took a bite into the juicy apple and heard a loud crisp as my teeth hit the red flesh. I closed my eyes as I felt the small bit of apple travel around my mouth, the sweet flavour exploding everywhere. I took a few more small bites and then had to put it back down on the desk. I didn't want to spew it up, but I just couldn't handle anymore. But that was progress. I took small bites of something every now and then and soon, I'd start up a smooth eating pattern.

A knock suddenly came at my door, followed by my mum's voice. "Heather? You in there?"

I quickly moved to sit down on my bed and opened up my book. "Yes." I called back.

The door soon opened and my mother, who was dressed in a red cashmere sweater -a gift from Phil- and beige capris, was shown standing by my doorway. "Would you be able to run down to the shop to get me some milk? I told Maria she could go home early and I'm attempting to cook dinner." She smiled, as if her cooking dinner and letting our maid, who was treated as a slave, go home deserved the Nobel Prize.

"Milk?" I repeated. "What for?"

"I'm cooking pasta. You alright with that?" She asked.

I hesitated. "Yeah. Fine." I said. "I'll go get the milk."

"Thanks, love. Money's on the kitchen counter." She said before walking back down the stairs. I stood up and put on my old white cardigan before heading downstairs, grabbing the change off the counter, stuffing my feet into my usual black Converse, and stepping outside.

The corner store wasn't far from our house; about two streets away, and so I didn't rush. Today wasn't as sunny as yesterday and a slight wind was starting, picking up random pieces of my hair and making it fly across my face. I began walking down our street that had houses matching ours and neighbours matching Phil and kept my head down, not wanting to look at any of them.