These Demons

Chapter Thirty-six

The following day consists of wasting twenty-four hours by weighing myself at least twenty times because the number on the scale has never been lower than now, but it has been refusing to go down further for days which makes me panic.
Even though I eat nothing except for one small rice cake a day and force myself through an intense workout program in my living room every morning and evening because I'm afraid of people judging me out in the world, I just can't seem to lose any more pounds.
Furthermore, I still feel miserable in general and never want to leave my house again, so I use my mental condition as an excuse to actually stay inside and only get fresh air when I go out for a smoke.
Additionally to my overwhelming sadness and self-hatred, my body is seemingly losing faith in me and obviously occasionally considers giving up and causes me excruciating pain in my stomach, chest, limbs and other parts of my body for no apparent reason.
I hate everything and everyone including myself and excluding my cats, but I make it through the day by letting Netflix take my mind off my own problems.
A part of me wishes Zoe would call or text me, but I don't have the guts to do it myself and constantly check my phone like a pathetic lovesick teenage boy instead.

It's been a while since the last time I attended a school, but I still remember the nauseous feeling mixed with sheer terror and uncertainty I got when I woke up on mornings I knew I'd write an exam, and the following day is one of those I feel like that all over again.
Because they're partners of ours, I wear a baggy Killstar shirt, my usual skinny jeans I'm glad I now need a belt for, one of my many leather jackets and, as always, boots to complete my daily uncreative outfit.
With a tumbler filled with black coffee, a new pack of cigarettes and my valuables, I drive to the location I was given and pray I won't black out because I feel so light-headed again.

The abandoned industrial building resembles the location of the second Hostel horror movie in eastern Europe and immediately makes me even more uncomfortable than I already am, but I park at the edge of the premises next to a bunch of other cars and make my way to the entrance where a little crowd of people I'm at least familiar with is standing.

Everyone mumbles their greetings, most of them still as tired as I am, and my band mates immediately want to know how I am which I respond to with the usual lie about being fine, but a little tired and with the occasional headaches.
That's not even entirely false, but can't be considered true either.
"Well, now that everyone is here, good morning!" the photographer says while he continues to fumble with his equipment.
I thought Grizzlee Martin was going to do the shooting, but the person standing here instead is Jonathan Weiner who took the photos for my solo record as well.
He's a great guy to work with and extremely talented, but I simply don't want any pictures to be taken of me, especially not now that I've failed at losing more weight.
Instead of saying something, I listen to the others participating in average small talk and watch the two makeup artists set up their, well, makeup.
Snacks were brought too, but there is no real catering because this isn't supposed to take that long, and I don't dare to express just how glad that makes me.

As soon as all the hustle and bustle of the preparations that I watch with vacant eyes and forged expressions has passed by, we finally go inside where it's very cold too, but we are spared of the fierce gusts of wind the November brings into the deserted area far away from L.A.'s busy lifestyle. 

"We're going to do a few different things," Jonathan explains and points to the displayed items on the factory floor and their mere presence already sends trembles down my body. 

"We're going to be mechanics?" Jake questions at the sight of a car and a bunch of tools near the tall window facade and Jonathan chuckles while finishing something with his big professional camera I can't even name. "The tools are just decor. Do you want to start with the car?"

"What are we going to do with it?" Ashley wants to know, wearing way more eye makeup than the rest of us. I didn't want there to be any warpaint because I've grown sick of it, but I couldn't avoid the whole makeup thing completely, so now we're all wearing dark eyeshadow and eyeliner like we're about to party at an emo club and I had my entire face covered in foundation and concealer because these people believe I'm way too pale and my dark eye circles and shadows make me look sick. Not that I can disagree with it, but I simply don't care about anything regarding my appearance except that I have to look as thin as possible, and the thought that this might not happen is frightening. 

Jonathan waves us over to where the old black Chevrolet Impala that might be the exact same model the Winchester brothers drive in Supernatural, and it's a great car I'd love to leave this place with as fast as possible, but instead, I listen to my band pretending they know shit about cars. The two makeup girls hang around in the back, one of them throwing Ashley disgustingly lascivious looks, and because we're all clueless, our photographer gives us the instructions once the whole lethally boring wannabe talk about vehicles is over.

"Andy, can you lean over the hood of the car?"

"Can I what?" I repeat and freeze. 

He rolls his eyes and waves me to the others who are standing around the car, and I notice how incredibly dirty the ground in here is and that it probably hasn't been cleaned since the production was shut down and the building emptied, but when I look at the huge spider webs on the smeared windows, I get the thought that this thing probably purposely wasn't cleaned for the aesthetics. 

"I want you all to gather around the car," we're being informed, "with CC and Ashley on the left and Jake and Jinxx on the right side. Andy, you get in front of it."
I always have to because I'm the singer and leader, but even though I follow the orders because it has to be like this, I groan in reluctance.
We take our spots and Jonathan takes a moment to frown and consider his plans for us.
My entire body is shaking and I cross my arms to hide it, making his eyes light up. "That looks great! Makes you all serious and badass!" Well then. "Okay, change of plans. Andy, stand in front of the hood and lean against the car in this position."
Without speaking a word, I do it with jittery limbs and the vehicle is icy cold against the cotton of my jeans, but leaning makes it possible for me to close my eyes and wait for my dizziness to get better.
"Jake, you lean over the hood."
"What?"
I keep my eyes shut and listen, wishing I could fall asleep without waking up.
"No, stay there on the right side. Yeah, and look at me. No, not like that. Wait, I'll show you."
Steps become audible on the ground and the position of his voice shifts, so I'm rather certain he joined Jake to show him how to pose.
"This is uncomfortable," Jake comments unhappily, but our photographer doesn't seem to mind.
"This looks great! You'll just have to keep your eyes on the camera... Exactly... Okay, Jinxx? You stay here and, no, that looks stupid. Can you put your hands on the car top? No, just that arm... Yeah, but... like that. Right. But we could..."

My thoughts begin to drift away and end up where they constantly have since I went home two days ago: At the point where I drown myself in accusations about how stupid, terrible, weak and worthless I am because of the choice I made.
But the problem is that I didn't have any other options and I still don't have any. Zoe was wrong and every cell in my body clamps to this belief and won't let me change my mind in order to keep my shit together and keep me from falling apart entirely.
The last thing I need is any form of doubt about my current lifestyle because this is all I have left to control and make me feel stronger, better and more disciplined.
Weight loss is all I have to focus on and give me a goal, power and perfection.
As soon as I lose this determination, I won't have anything anymore.
I hate thinking this, but my so-called anorexia has become the most important thing in my life and all I can trust, rely on and hold on to so I can keep everything together.
I know I'm ruining my health, but I can't let myself care about that.
And if Zoe can't handle this, I can't handle her.

"Andy, open your eyes and look at the camera, will you?" 

I wish I could just disappear forever, but no matter how much weight I lose, that will never happen.

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The Pretty Reckless - Blame Me