WEEKEND WARS
I’m a curse and I’m a sound. When I open my mouth, there’s reason I don’t win; I don’t know how to begin.
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I walked over to the frat feeling bloated and annoyed. I was glad at least that I was wearing Carly’s flowy clothes. It was halloween, and since halloween fell on a Saturday, Sig Ep was going all out on the party. I wanted to look cute, but not show off my figure, so I borrowed Carly’s clothes to look like a hippie. That much was fun, but my binge just minutes earlier had not been fun.
I hated that so much -- that I would eat so much and literally lose my will to live because it made me so upset. I wish I could just be like everyone else; I wanted to be able to eat a normal amount and not feel like ripping my skin to shreds or overdosing. I felt helpless, miserable, and alone. I didn’t know how to recover or if I even wanted to recover. This was the way I lived. I didn’t know how to survive, so this is what got me by.
I sighed and walked up to the third floor. I located Manderson’s room, pushing through hoards of people smoking weed and drinking. It was just like the parties they show in movies about teens; they had bright strobe lights, an unsafe number of people, and you could hardly see due to the thick smoke. Berkh had promised me a bottle of pink lemonade vodka for the holiday, so I opened up the door to his much quieter room. “Hey, Raelee,” Berkh greeted me calmly.
“Oh, God. Are you fucking kidding me? I thought Jess was joking!” I cried. Berkh was wearing denim shorts -- that had once been jeans -- torn off at the knee and a shirt with the sleeves torn off.
“Why don’t you like it?” Jessica called from their bathroom.
“Because he looks like a fucking idiot,” I retorted.
“Hey! That’s mean. I think he looks so cute,” Jess cooed as she left the bathroom to kiss Berkh on the cheek. She showed off her own costume as she did so -- she was the matching Bella to Berkh’s Jacob.
“Okay, that’s all fine and well, but can I just have my vodka please?” I begged.
“Lush,” Berkh muttered as he reached into a plastic bag.
“Thanks, babe,” I called over my shoulder as I hurried out. I considered leaving the party to just drink in my room alone, but I thought I might constitute as an alcoholic if I did that. I still felt sick over the amount of food in stomach, and suddenly realized I’d hardly be able to drink at all since I already felt so full.
I made my way to the bathroom, squeezing past gross couples making out and drunk kids playing karaoke. I looked around the bathroom to make sure no one else was in the bathroom. It was weirdly quiet compared to how loud it was just outside.
I hated the way the bathrooms were set up; on one side, there were two urinals, and about three feet away, two stalls. I had endured a couple interesting situations due to the placement.
I selected the handicapped stall, tied my hair into a loose ponytail, and kneeled at the toilet. I stuck my index finger as far back in my mouth it went. I gagged once, then twice, and then released the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Four cinnamon poptarts, one large chocolate bar, half a family - sized bag of Lay’s potato chips, and two granola bars rolled around in the toilet. Looking at it made me want to vomit again. I flushed, wiped the corner of my mouth and exhaled. I was supposed to be better than this, I was supposed to be stronger than this. Tears formed in my eyes and I hung my head. I didn’t want to do this. No, not at all. But I needed this. I didn’t understand how to cope or survive, so I abused my body. This was my way out.
