DISTANCE / DIVIDE ;;
Empty house, empty heart. Time away, time apart … I can’t hear you over the crowd.
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About an hour later, I climbed on the train with Jessica and Berkh. To say my heart wasn’t in it was an understatement; home was the last place I wanted to be. I wasn’t too keen on being at Monmouth either, but at least I could abuse my body to whatever extent I wished and face no consequences.
Since the train was set up in rows of two, I took a seat in the row behind Jessica and Berkh. I wanted to talk to Patrick, but only if he apologized first -- what had happened wasn’t my fault at all. I was trying to protect Manderson, but in the process, I’d hurt Patrick. I shook my head out. It didn’t matter. Nothing did. If Patrick wanted to text me, fine. If not, I guess I had to be okay with that, too.
I spent most of the ride trying to avoid my thoughts and feeling extreme discomfort as a result. By the time we arrived home, it was too late for me to think straight, so I went up to my bed and fell asleep immediately.
The next morning, I prepared myself for the inevitable hugs and how are yous. I actually didn’t know how well I was doing in school -- most of the semester had been wasted with Lucas, puking my guts up, or wishing I was dead; how could I have time for homework or studying? As a high schooler, this would have scared the shit out of me. Now, I couldn’t think of a single thing that scared me.
I descended from the stairs and entered the kitchen. “Raelee!” My mom cried upon seeing me. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I said. I felt tired and I knew I looked malnourished and just all around unwell, but I didn’t have the energy to seem chipper.
“That’s great! How’s school?” She asked. I felt a bit annoyed by her obliviousness, but it had always been like this. She always acted like everything was just fine, even when I looked like I was on the verge of death. All the same, though, it reinforced my belief that no one cared about me and gave me all the more reason to purge.
“It’s great. It’s really great. I love it a lot,” I lied. “I made friends with Patrick and Manderson -- they’re the best.”
“Stop stealing my friends,” Jessica muttered from across the kitchen as she sipped her ice coffee and flipped through the Chicago Tribune.
“Oh, cry me a river. At least I care about them and spend time with them, unlike you. All you do is spend time with Berkh,” I snapped.
“Woah, chill out. I was just kidding. What’s wrong with you?” She asked. I exited the room without saying anything. I hated that about myself, that I always blew little snubs out of proportion when I was doing poorly. I had nothing left to say for myself.
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A few days had passed with me flying under the radar. I spent most of my time in my room and avoided eating as well as I could. It was finally Thanksgiving, though, which I was happy about -- it meant it was almost time to go back.
I tried to look cute, but I felt disgusted by my reflection. I hated my stupid chipmunk cheeks. I hated my stupid bloated stomach. I hated me stupid chubby thighs. I hated every inch of the girl in the mirror. I was sick of my stupid body and I wanted to cut myself out of it.
Whatever. All I had to do was get through one meal and it’d be over with. I could go back to school. End of story. I pulled on an oversized sweater and a pair of leggings. I didn’t want anybody to be able to see the actual shape of my body.
