Trigger Warning: Swearing, eating disorders, John's dad is a homophobic piece of crap
Alexander's POV
With Eliza 2 months pregnant, college, and my stalker, John, life was stressful. Not to mention wedding planning.
"Daisies or roses?" Eliza asked, holding up a picture of each flower. I looked at them for a moment, then decided on roses. "Roses." I said and she nodded, writing.
I looked back down at my laptop and continued writing my essay. It was on whether advertising in schools was okay or not. I say no because I hate all the fucking posters on the walls.
Burr did have some good points in his opposing essay, but he was a dick so he would lose no matter what. I did want a good grade, though, so I tried my best.
"What are you working on?" Eliza asked, looking at my computer. "An essay." I said.
John's POV
I shoved my fingers deep into my throat and vomited more. "You-" Vomit. "Deserve-" Vomit. "This." Vomit.
Well, there went my lunch, down the toilet. I flushed it and struggled to my feet. I looked in the mirror with a sigh and just started to sob. From everything. Alex hated me, and he was taken anyway.
Eliza posted an embarrassing picture of me stalking Alexander on the internet, and even after guiltily taking it down after my pleading, it was shared and reposted everywhere. I tried to get 3 jobs so far this month, and all of them I was rejected because of that exact picture.
Then there was me. I was ugly and fat. That was the only reason Alex didn't love me before...my looks. I just want to get skinny, but I'm not. I'm fat, and no matter how hard I try it's not enough! I try to look handsome, I'm not. My freckles just make it worse. They just make me look like a spotted toad.
I walked out of the bathroom, my throat burning. I looked into my pet turtle Larry's cage. "You'll love me no matter what, though." I said with a small smile. Then a loud DING from my phone made me look away.
I looked down at my phone.
Dad: I know you love that Hamilton piece of shit.
Me: Dad, what?
Dad: I saw the pictures, John! Don't lie to me, fag.
Me: Dad, I'm sorry! Really I am. But I can't help it...
Dad: I didn't raise you like this.
I threw my phone to the floor and just...cried. I couldn't stop crying. I just cried my sorrows away, but they would come back and it would start all over again. I cried for 6 hours straight.
TO BE CONTINUE
