Thin Ice

The last normal day

When we got home, I ran upstairs to finish packing. I stopped once I got to the top, I felt really dizzy again. I tightened my grip on the railing. This time, my mom caught me. "Aer, are you alright?" She said from the bottom of the stairs, looking slightly worried. I turned around to face her and softly said. "Yeah, I'm fine." Then I continued to my room.

I started getting anxious, what if she knows I lost more weight? I pulled up my sleeve to see if my cuts were healing. Either I wear long sleeves all week, or I do something to cover it up. Why not both? The only way I could think of hiding them was to burn my arm, but how? I ended up asking my mom if she could make Mac n cheese, which she'd have to cook in a pot, then I can just burn my arm on the pot. Then, of course I'd either flush the food or throw it up.

I waited at the kitchen table while she stirred the pot. At one point, she walked out of the room. This was my chance. I checked to make sure she wasn't coming back before I gently placed my inner arm on the side of it. Instant pain came over me, as I muttered "shit," several times before walking over to the sink. I ran my arm under the cold water and it hurt worse than driving a blade through your skin.

My mom walked in and realized what happened, but didn't ask any questions. She grabbed me some ice and told me to relax for a little while. After a few minutes, I assured her that I'd be okay, and went back upstairs to finish packing. Although, she gave me a bowl of mac n cheese. Of course, I flushed it. Why risk gaining weight?

       I packed your typical things, like t-shirts, shorts, bathing suits, chargers, shoes and any other essentials. I checked twice to make sure I didn't forget anything. I hope I didn't forget anything. Before leaving, I went in the bathroom to change. I put on a black pair of shorts, that I had to roll over a few times, since they were now too loose around my weedy waist, and a green and yellow Oregon sweatshirt, that was now oversized. I tried putting on a pair of old Nike socks that I had, but this time I realized that they fell down on my ankles, since my calves were so twigged. That's when I started thinking; maybe I am losing too much weight. Nah.

I knocked on my brother's bedroom door. He greeted me with a casual "what's up?"  I stepped in and showed him my 'problem'. He gave me a puzzled look when I asked "Can I borrow a p..pair of socks?" I kinda tried to laugh about it, he did too, but he sounded almost a bit worried.

       He pulled a pair out of his dresser and handed them to me. "Here." I never realized how tall my brother had gotten that summer, he was going into 6th grade, 2 whole years younger than me and he was already catching up to me. I've always been the shortest guy in my grade, ever since I was little, I've always been what my mom calls "petite," but that's more of a feminine word. 8th grade is going to be brutal, being 4'11 and not even weighing 70 pounds. "Aer?" He waved his hand in front of my face. I must have been zoning out. "Wha...what?" I was confused. "Here." He handed me the socks. "Oh. Thanks." I was about to walk out, when Aidan grabbed my wrist. "What?" I was confused, did I forget something? He pulled me in to hug him. "Take care of yourself this weekend." I hugged him back. I don't know why, but my brother cares more about my health than I do. Maybe it's because he looks up to me? I really don't know why he would.

When Aidan and I were little, he followed me around constantly. It drove me absolutely crazy! He would copy me, spy on me, try to hang around with me and my friends, it was annoying as hell. As we got older, he stopped doing that. I kinda miss it, but he still looks up to me, even if I'm a horrible influence. Why the hell would he look up to someone as weak and ugly as me? I'll never know.

I wrapped my arms around him too. "I'll try to." I wasn't making any promises to him. I knew I couldn't make that promise to him, because I don't want to take care of myself, I hate myself. I hate everything about myself. Everything.