After her father died, Clare Price fell into a deep hole, while her sister Chloe did the exact opposite. While Chloe chose the rebellious path of grief, Clare locked herself off from the world. But all seems to change when Rachel Amber appears in th...
About 15 minutes later Frank returned with the food. He had gotten me some pancakes since he knew that I ate them. But instead of the syrup and butter my mother had at home, he brought me some chocolate cream. "Thank you" I told him and took it from him and sat it down on the table. "Can I?" I asked, referring to his laptop that was still standing on the table. He nod and I closed it and put it onto the passenger seat.
I continued helping him to clean up the table before we both sat down and started eating. Well, he started, while I continued looking at the food in front of me, just like this morning. "Clare" He said as he noticed I wasn't eating "You can't starve yourself to death" He said and put his fork down. "I'm not planning on" I said, but still couldn't get myself to eat even one bit of the pancake. "Then why are you staring at your food and not eating it?" He asked. "I don't know, it's a side effect from my shitty mind" I told him. "But you can't starve yourself, no matter if it is a side effect from any shit!" He said. I knew he was right. I knew my mother was right when she forced me to eat. I knew the whole god damn world was right when they made me eat, but it didn't feel like it.
I put the fork into the pancake, then took the knife and cut of a bit. I took a deep breath before pushing it into my mouth and started chewing it. "It's not as bad as you thought, is it?" He asked. "I never said it was bad, I only said I wasn't hungry" I told him and rested my hands and not cutting a second piece of pancake off it. "Then I don't get it, you said your mind is fucked up, but you also don't eat. How does that connect?" He asked. "I- It started when my dad died. I wasn't hungry, whenever I did force myself to eat something I felt like I was already full and had to throw up. One day I was done forcing myself to eat every day and started eating every other day, so my mom wouldn't notice. She never did" I told him.
"How the hell did you pull that off?" "The classics, I came home in the afternoon saying I already ate at school or in town. Getting up late in the morning, telling them I would get something on the way or latest in school or I went to bed early in the evening, although I wasn't able to sleep. That's also part of the fucked up mind" I told him. "Clare, have you gone to the doctors because of that?" He asked and I shook my head no "Nothing happened yet" I told him "I'm fine" "You're not fine Clare, no matter how often you try to tell yourself, starving like this, breaking down the entire time, the panic attack. You should really go and see a doctor" He said.
"I'll think about it" I told him to make him shut up. "Continue that pancake, if you don't eat it while it's warm, you'll have to eat it cold" "What if I don't?" "I'll make you!" He said with a serious face expression. I groaned, but continued eating the pancakes until the plate was empty. "How do you feel?" He asked. "Full, like I have to throw up" I said. "Do you want to lie down? Maybe try to catch up on some sleep?" He asked. "Yeah, I guess that's an good idea" I replied and he showed me to the bedroom. As he entered the door, a little puppy ran out. "Awe, what's his name?" I asked, kneeing down and petting the little boy. "Pompidou" He replied "It's French" "It suits him, I guess" I said and got back up and went into the bedroom. "You can just put the things onto the table so he won't get it" Frank said and I nod agreeing.
I started freeing his bed from the things on it before lying down in it. Pompidou tried jumping onto the bed, but failed since he was too small. "Aren't you a cutie" I said, watching him. Frank had closed the door again, so the little guy wouldn't get out. I slowly closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.
I don't know how much time later I woke up. It seemed like the RV was standing, question was if it was still standing or again? As I was trying to get up, I realized the little Pompidou was lying in my arm asleep. He was such a cute puppy. I smiled, then carefully got up not to wake him and went to the window and looked out. We were definitely not in the parking lot of the Two Whales Diner anymore, this looked more like the beach. I looked at the little guy one last time before leaving the bedroom, combing my hair with my hand to get the knots out. I made sure I closed the door again so he wouldn't get out and started looking for Frank, yet he was nowhere to be found.
I grabbed my bag and got my water bottle out and drank a little bit, then checked my phone for the time. It was barely lunch time. I pushed the phone into the pocket of my jeans and the water bottle back into bag, before opening the door of the RV and stepping outside. I walked a little towards the water, taking in a deep breath. "Feeling better?" I heard Frank call from a lawn chair place in front of his home. "A lot" I called back and took my shoes off, letting them lie in the sand and stepping into the water, letting the cold slash against my skin. It felt good. It was the first time I felt something else than pain or numbness.
I stayed there for a while, before turning around and walking back to the RV, picking my shoes up on the way and sitting down in the sand. "I haven't felt like this in a long time. I actually feel good for once" I said with a small, but real, smile on my face. Frank got off his chair and sat down beside me. "You don't really care about your life, do you?" Frank asked out of nowhere, but he was right. I didn't. "No, not really. It's hell either way. No matter if I continue living the way I lived it the entire time or if I get myself in danger and get hurt" I told him. "Is that way you got into the RV with me?" He asked. "The worst thing that could happen is to be reunited with my father and to be honest, that doesn't sound so bad" I told him.
"That can't be honestly what you want. Life isn't easy, but it's worth living. Especially when you are as young as you are" He said. "Would you stop saying that?! I might be 15 years old, but my mind is fucked up as if I'm older than that" I said to him. "But why didn't you talk to a friend about your problems or a therapist?" He asked. "Easy, I don't have any. All I have is me and since my mother won't accept that I have a problem and that something is wrong with me, she won't get me a therapist, not that we can afford it anyways"
I don't know how it happened, but we stayed at the beach like that for hours without talking and just watching the waves hit the shore and the sun going down, giving the the sky a beautiful pink color.
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