You're The One

3

I turned into Nick's driveway, looking over at my best friend with a smile on my face.

"Your stop, babe." I said.

He opened the car door and got out, leaning down to eye-level.

"I love you, Bailey May" He smiled at me, closing the door.

...

I pulled into the first parking spot I saw, gathering my phone and wallet, and getting out of the car after turning pulling the key out of the ignition. Reaching up and tightening my ponytail, I walked towards the entrance of The Attic, a discount bookstore near my house.

I sat down in a suede chair facing the window, books in hand, something I'd made a personal tradition with my visits to The Attic. I crossed my legs, resting my ankle on my knee and propping a book up against it, opening it to the first page. I sat there for a while, silently, engrossed in reading.
I turned the page of the book, reading the header, Chapter 25. I pulled my phone out of the side of the chair where I'd stuck it, checking the time. I'd been there for an hour. I picked up the rest of my books and piled them with the one I'd been reading, making my way to the checkout.
After checking out, I stepped out of the bookstore, squinting at the brightness of the sun. I pushed the button on my keys to unlock my car, and got into it. I exhaled deeply as I started the vehicle, pulling out of the parking lot.
...

I softly shut the door behind me, hitting the lock button on my keys twice, hearing the signal sound. My father was sitting at the island, focusing on something on his phone screen. I walked up behind him, gently wrapping my arm around his shoulder and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Hey Daddio," I greeted him.

He chuckled, right as the timer on the oven interrupted with a ding!

He turned to me and returned my kiss on the cheek, "Go wash up for dinner."

I sighed to myself as I made my way up the stairs to the bathroom. "How can I get out of it?" I wondered. He knew I wasn't sick, he wouldn't let "tired" pass again.. sigh. I opened the bathroom door and went in, turning on the hot water. I pumped soap on to my palm and rubbed my hands together before running them under the water. I dried them and left the room, flipping the lights off.

...

I sat down at our dinner table, something I avoided whenever possible. I sucked in my breath when my dad sat the plate down in front of me, full of a pile of fries and a burger, which seemed overwhelmingly huge, and scurried back into the kitchen. I leaned forward.

You've gotta.
I don't wanna.
YOU HAVE TO.
NO.
Do it.
Don't you dare.
JUST EAT IT.
You're fat if you do.

My thoughts spiraled, this innermost battle seeming to never end. You'd think I'd be used to this by now, considering I was faced with it anytime I was faced with a plate of food, but I wasn't. I felt the all too familiar feeling of a lump in my throat beginning to form, and I clutched my seat, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from letting the tears spill over. I sighed shakily.

Get your shit together, Bailey. This is embarrassing.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up straight, just in time for my father to walk back in the room, carrying his own plate and 2 glasses of water on a tray. He put the tray down on the table, and placed a glass in front of me, offering a smile.

"Eat up, sunshine!"

I felt sick. I pulled my chair up to the table, resting my elbows on it. With both hands, I picked up the burger. My nausea growing by the second, I brought it to my lips. I took as small a bite of the patty as possible, shuddering as it went down. It seemed like I felt it hit my stomach, and like I could hear the BOOM as it did so, and echoed off the walls of my insides, mixing in with the sound of emptiness to create music, like a band on the streets of New Orleans.

...

I went on like that for a while, ending up eating about a quarter of the burger and a few fries. My father gave me a look of disbelief when I announced I was full, and asked to be excused, but he allowed me to get up from the table anyway.

"I'm gonna take a shower," I told him.

I wasn't.

I stepped into the bathroom, phone in hand. I switched on the shower, turning it to the highest pressure setting. I switched on the first Spotify playlist I saw, and turned it all the way up. I pulled my hair into a bun on top of my head. I bit my lip as I knelt down in front of the toilet.

That's right. Give yourself the punishment you deserve.

I opened my mouth and slipped my pointer and middle finger down my throat. I wiggled them around, feeling myself gag. I moved them quicker, and harder. I felt the digested food hit my fingers, and pulled my hand out of my mouth. I coughed as I threw up, tears welling up and making their way out of my eyes.

Stop crying, Bailey. You do this to yourself, fat cow.

I pulled my hair down as I stood back up, my legs shaking. I bent over the bathtub and flipped my head over, my hair falling down into the shower. Grabbing the shower-head, I soaked my hair, and turned the shower off. I changed into the pajamas I'd brought into the bathroom, and turned off the music, wrapping my now wet hair in a towel. I brushed my teeth quickly, and made my way out of the bathroom and down the hall to my bedroom, only to get in bed and not sleep.