Bradley Edeson

Chapter One

There was a boy. I really liked this boy. But the more I liked him, the more I watched him and the more I watched him the more I learned about him. He wasn't the nicest person in the world. He wasn't nice at all. But I was thirteen, and I though I loved him with every last piece of myself. That was my first mistake.

My second mistake would've been approaching this boy. He had never taken notice in me before, and I knew that. However, there was still a part of me that was hoping he had. Maybe he secretly loved me back. You never know until you ask! So I did ask. I asked him what he though of me. He said my hair was too short. If it was longer, he would probably date me. I also had to wear lots of makeup.

Coming from a family with parents that can't hold a job for more than a few weeks, we've never really had money to throw around. But when I cried and cried and cried, my mom agreed to let me get extensions. She figured they wouldn't be too expensive. I guess my mom knows nothing about hair extensions. By the time she found out how much they were, they were already in my hair and absolutely non-refundable. Win-lose situation; but I won, so I really couldn't complain.

He still didn't like me. That hurt. My hair was too long, and too dark. It made me look like a ghost, he said. And when Bradley said something, everyone else had to say it. For two weeks, I was known as "ghost girl".

When I took the extensions out, my hair had grown a little bit, so we cut two inches off and changed the color from my natural light brown to a blonde. Blondes are supposed to be hot, right? Bradley was hot, so he probably wanted a hot girl. Man, the way we thought as thirteen year olds...

Anyways. One day, and this was the day that really messed me up. Bradley came up to me in the halls. I was the only one there after meeting with my math teacher to talk about some extensive tutoring (my math mark was really low). But I also knew Bradley's basketball practice would be over around the same time as my student-teacher meeting would be. His locker was in the same general area as mine, so why not try to talk to him?

He approached me first, and that really got the young heart going. I had played this day over in my head so many times. Would he push me against the locker and kiss me with a feverish passion, or maybe he would sweep me off my feet and take me for coffee. But, yeah, none of those things happened. Instead his voice dropped real low, and he told me I was disgusting.

"You're a pig. I thought you weren't so bad, but I guess you just don't know when to stop piling on the pounds. Such a shame, such a shame." And he walked away tsking. That's right. Instantly tears filled my eyes. I ditched my homework, my bags... Everything, and just ran home.

Of course, I was thirteen. A year of raging hormones and constantly thinking I was right. We were all there on that dreadful year. So when I ran through the door and stomped upstairs, my mom figured it was almost that time of the month and let me be. I'm still debating on whether or not I hate her for that. If she would've followed me, she might've been able to stop what happened next. Maybe, or maybe not. I think my mind was made up the moment Bradley insulted the thing I never thought I could change. I was going to purge, and once I was done purging, I would find one of those pro-anorexic diets the twig thin girls at school were always talking about, and I would follow through with it. I would be the skinny, hot blonde girl Bradley wanted, even if it killed me. And, well, fact of the matter is... It almost did kill me.

After a month, I had lost twenty pounds. I couldn't afford to lose that much in the first place. But after that day in the hallway, I could not look in the mirror and be happy with what I saw. Even after I lost twenty pounds. And then twenty more... And then twenty more. Sixty pounds later, I was as sad, and as sick as could be. Life didn't seem like something worth living anymore, and all I could focus on was how thin I was. That never seemed to be enough. So, my mom took me to the hospital, where they announced I was really close to just dying. There were tears and gasps and days of sobbing, but not one tear fell from my eyes. I think it was because I had lost sixty seven pounds and all Bradley could ever do was make disgusted sounds when I came around.

I was fourteen, and I weighed eighty-eight pounds. Almost seventy pounds lighter than the lowest, yet still healthy, suggested weight for my height. They made me stay in the hospital to be medically treated for two weeks. I still refused to eat, so they kept feeding me through a tube. That was gross. Once those two weeks ended, and I started gaining weight, my mom told me they needed me to stay for another two weeks. This time, it wasn't in the pediatric wing. It was in the teen psychology ward. That was the worst month of my life. It took two months to just catch up on all my schoolwork, and another month to start eating somewhat normal again.

Bright colors and blonde hair were a thing of the past. I discovered a style of music that taught me who I was. It was dark, heavy, and a little frightening. The singers sang of all I knew - sadness. While the music itself scared me, it was something I could relate to for over a year.

We didn't do anything for my fifteenth birthday. Middle school was done and over with, and high school was approaching far too quickly. The summer consisted of worries and anxiety and false senses of recovery. My mom wasn't home anymore. My father drank himself to the streets. We were falling apart as a family, and I knew it was because of me. That's why attempt number one happened. That's why I spent another two excruciating weeks in the psychology ward. If it's too much for you to handle, I suggest you stop reading. It's about to get a lot worse.

*unedited*