Impossible Body Type (A Kellic)

18

| Kellin's POV |

I was going crazy. My heart was pounding out of my chest and all my senses were on edge. I could hear every little crack and crinkle. The way my bed moved as I twisted lightly. The soft noises from the tv playing downstairs. The gentle hum of the heat coming through the vents. My loud breaths as they forced themselves from my lungs. And my heart beating. That seemed to be the loudest. You know how in cartoon the characters heart will literally pound out of the characters skin? That's what it felt like and I swear anyone near me could hear it, it was so loud.

I sat up and scooted to the edge of my bed. My hands gripped my hair and I tried to steady my breathing. It wasn't working. Sitting here wasn't working either. I stood up and wrapped my arms around myself. I had to find something. Anything. Just something to make me calm down. I paced my room as my lungs strangled themselves.

I stopped and caught sight of myself in my mirror. God I was a mess. There wasn't that much light in my room but I could still see some. I could see the frazzled state my hair was in and how I had a death grip on my sides. I squeezed myself harder as I took notice of how my clothes didn't exactly look right. The fabric of my t-shits were usually big. That's how I wanted them. I liked my clothes bigger so that they could hide everything underneath, all the damaged skin and fat, but right now my shirt wasn't doing that. This was a smaller shirt, one my dad had gotten me. It hugged my skin as it fit, it wasn't big enough.

I curled my fingers in the fabric and stretched it. I pulled it from me trying to lengthen it, trying to make it big enough to hide my gruesome, shameful body. It stretched some but it didn't stretch as much as I wanted it to. I dug my fingers in harder and pulled. Somehow my grip had been so tight that I tore the shirt, that didn't stop me, I hadn't noticed. I continued to tug and pull at the now tattered fabric. I didn't stop until my fingers accidentally brushed against the skin on my stomach.

My gaze was pulled back up to the mirror and I wanted to cry. I had tore a giant hole in the shirt and now the pale skin underneath was visible. I was quick to tug the shirt off of my head and throw it to the floor, it was nothing more than rags now. My hands found there way to my stomach and I pulled and scratched at it. Much like I had the shirt, except instead of trying to stretch it out I was trying to tear it off. It was disgusting. There was fat everywhere. It stuck out. It was squishy. It was able to pinch the fat between my fingers, that's how much there was. I was fat. It was sickening. I was sick and disgusting.

I didn't want to be sick and disgusting. I didn't. That's why I could stop my hands as they tried desperately to claw away the excess skin. It wasn't working. No matter how hard I scratched I couldn't rip it from me. I sank to the floor in front of my mirror. I couldn't help but be grateful for this mirror. I know that sounds stupid but it's the truth. This inanimate object was my only truthful friend. It showed me the truth and told no lies. It made me see what a piece of shit i was. It was blunt and honest and that's what I needed. I needed it to tell me what was wrong with myself. If I didn't know I couldn't fix it.

By now I was reduced to tears as I clutched my sore sides. I was exhausted. I wanted to sleep, but that wasn't going to happen. As much as I welcomed the thoughts I had they kept me awake and right now I just wanted to sleep. My Dad was right down the hall. I could easily slip in wake him up. He'd pull me into bed and calm me down as I cried. He wouldn't ask what was wrong. He wouldn't push me, but I would know he was there. I could do that but it was probably nearing four thirty in the morning now, I couldn't wake him up. I had put him through enough. He deserved a break.

I could call Vic. He said he'd be there if I ever needed him. He was probably sleeping though. He didn't deserve to have my problems dumped on him anyway, but I needed someone. It wouldn't hurt to call him would it? He'd understand. Understand that I needed to bother someone besides my Dad for the night.

I crawled my way to my night stand and grabbed my phone. I rested my back against the side of the bed as the phone rang. It rang and rang and rang. Until finally he picked up.
"Hello?" His grainy, obviously sleepy, morning voice said through the phone.
"V-Vic?" I said quietly, holding back a sob.
"Kellin." He said alarmed. "Is everything okay? Kellin?" I tried to speak but I couldn't find it in me. I shouldn't have bothered him with this nonsense.
"N-n-never mind. I-I'm s-sorry." I hung up the phone quickly.

I had barely even laid it back down when it rang again. It was Vic. I answered the call but didn't say a word.
"Kellin listen to me." I slightly nodded even though I knew he couldn't hear me. "Don't hang up again. Okay? Take your time and just tell me what's wrong." It took me forever to gain enough nerve to speak again but there was something about hearing him breathing through the phone that calmed me down.
"I-I just w-want t-to s-s-sleep, but i-i can't.  Can't s-stop thinking." I said simply.
He was quiet for a few moments.
"What's your favorite song Kells?" I was confused but told him anyway.
"I-iris by the Goo Goo D-Dolls."
"Great. Now I want you to get comfortable."

I nodded but stayed in my spot on the floor. It was as comfortable as I was going to get.
"Now I apologize in advance if this sounds like shit but I used to sing Mike to sleep when he couldn't get to sleep himself." He was going to sing to me? I heard him clear his throat and then the most beautiful voice I had ever heard spilled through my phone speaker singing my favorite song.

"And I'd give up forever to touch you.."