Misconceptions 》Styles

13.00

Then

    My school uniform sits on my bed, ripped and caked in not only grass stains, but my dried blood. The door to my bedroom is locked and I stand in front of my mirror, shaking and staring. It was disgusting. Revolting. Sickening. I was fat. A disappointment. A shame. Hideous. Gag provoking. I was disgusting. I was a mistake. I was all wrongs. I was nothing worth existing. I was a waste of space. I was nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. My shaking tree log fingers brush against my side --the thick pancake it was-- and I wince as they bang against the black, red, and blue skin bubbling up like acid. The fat spills around me and threatens to swallow me whole. I continue to poke and prod at my skin, wishing that I could feel bone and nothing else. With that I could be a skeleton, light as a feather, finally beautiful. It was all I wanted.

    My underwear is soon at my feet and then thrown into the basket full of dirty clothes. I remove my eyes from the mirror, sick of seeing the monster I had become. I shakily grab a razor and my towel, slipping into the washroom. I wrap the towel around my stringy dark hair and set the razor down on the sink, inhaling deeply. Breathing was getting hard. Waking up was getting hard. Moving was hard. Looking at myself in the mirror was hard. Taking a shower was hard. Eating was the hardest. So I stopped. The only things that came easily were lying and sleeping. Sleeping helped me practice for death. Everything disappeared while I was asleep. I didn’t have to worry about how ugly or fat I was. I didn’t even have to worry about waking up. It was as if I were dead. Empty. Stripped of all worry whatsoever. It was exhilarating.

    I step into the bath and turn the water on high, slowly setting myself into the steaming hot water. I deserved to burn for looking the way I did. I deserved to feel my bruises sting more than usual when they hit that water. I deserved to feel the pain. I deserved to be kicked until blood came out of my mouth and nose by Harry’s mates. He wasn’t around while they did it. I didn’t know if that made it hurt less or more. I supposed it was all the same. He wouldn’t have saved me if he were there anyhow. He stopped saving me a long time ago. Now I was only his punching bag. The fat zombie slag that fifteen year old Harry loved to taunt. I deserved everything. All of the pain. What I didn’t understand was, what did I do to deserve being fat? Why was I cursed when everyone around me was picture perfect and light as a feather, so thin you could barely see them? They were so pretty, so happy. I wanted to be them. So I will. I will do anything to reach my goal. I weigh one hundred and ten pounds. It is too much. Way too much.

    My first goal was one hundred and twenty, and I did that. My next is ninety. Everyone says that’s unhealthy. But me? I think that’s fat. It’s all fat. But it’s less fat than I am now. So I will go there. I will keep going until I am happy and beautiful and thin and perfect. It is all I want now. My modeling career is going to start soon, Mum has connections. It doesn’t matter that my marks are rubbish or that I can’t see food without wanting to faint. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t eaten a real meal since I was twelve years old. It doesn’t matter that my diet consists of water, rice cakes and mustard. It doesn’t matter that my workout regimen is keep going until I pass out. It doesn’t matter that it hurts to move or breath or that I bruise from the lightest thing. Mum doesn’t care about any of it. She doesn’t care about the bullying either. I mean, I stopped telling her it was happening. She doesn’t see that I am already dead and that nothing lies behind my eyes. That all I feel is pain and self loathing and that besides that, I am numb.She won’t know that I was beaten so hard today I blacked out in the middle of a field and woke up with a pounding head. She won’t know any of it because all she cares about is her little angel being a model. And that I shall be. I will do it for her. I will do it for me because models are thin and pretty and happy and perfect and that is what I will be. I just have to listen to the voices and keep going. Water is a meal. Water is a meal. Mustard can keep me full for twenty hours. I can do it. I can do it.