The Story of Us

1 - Lance

I'm sitting on my bathroom floor, sobbing. Tears roll down my face like waterfalls of pain and sadness. I stare at my hands through tear-blurred vision, and I can't tell if they're shaking or if it's the tears. Why am I like this?

The toilet still has my vomit in it, brought on almost completely by my own self hatred. And the back end of a toothbrush. I've forced the food out of me, so many times. Every meal, snack, drink. Even if I just have one chip. It all has to go.

Sure, not eating got me to be skinny, but how am I supposed to maintain that? Puking. So, at least I'm eating, right? I could be worse.

I rip off my shirt, tears dripping down my cheeks at a slower rate than before. I stand and look in the mirror. My ribs stick out in a hideous way, and my face is sunken. My eyes have bags under them that are big enough to carry groceries. I let out a dry, joyless laugh. What is wrong with me?

I suppose it all started with her. With Nyma. I was so in love with her, with her beauty. She had long, flowing blonde hair and a gorgeous smile. Even her name made me putty. Nyma.

When she's approached me and told me that she'd been infatuated with me for so long, it seemed too good to be true. (It was). I had my first kiss with her, under the bright lights of the bowling alley. I had my first time with her, inside my brothers car. Little did I know, I meant nothing.

It was a few days after we'd hooked up in Ivan's car. She'd said to me "I love you, Lance, but you're just so...bad for my reputation,"

I'd asked her what she'd meant, and she'd told me flat out "You're fat! You don't look like the rest of the guys! I'd thought you would be super hot, but I guess not. I can't love you if you look like this."

I'd nodded. And that week, I didn't eat anything. When my mother made me eat during a family dinner that Nyma had attended, I felt so fat and ugly. That was the first time a puked.

Eventually, I started eating again, but I kept on making myself purge every meal I ate. So, instead of gaining a bit of weight and getting into the healthy zone, I stayed a skinny, tall person. And I was content.

What's a bit of suffering if it made Nyma happy? Well, eventually she decided that I wasn't enough. So she left me for Rolo, and I was left with emotional, mental, and physical damage.

So that's why I am how I am.

I brace myself against the counter around the sink, looking at my horrible face in the mirror. Do it. My mind whispers to me. End it, they won't care. If you were really worth it Nyma wouldn't have left you.

I'm going to do it, I decide. I open the mirror about the sink and find the nail polish remover, reading the label and the warnings. Do not ingest, it says. Well, sorry buddy, but that's exactly what I plan on doing.

My cup that I use for rinsing my mouth after puking and brushing my teeth is filled with the nail polish remover, and I take a little lick of it before drinking it all very quickly. My stomach rumbles in protest and I race to the toilet again to puke, tears flicking my eyes as everything in my stomach flies out. It didn't work.

I get up and walk out of my room, downstairs to where my family is sitting and eating dinner together. I sit at the table, feeling guilty. My siblings all finish their dinner, but I'm still picking at it sadly.

"My mouth tastes like nail polish remover," I say all to casually for what's to come.

Mama looks up, "Did you have nail polish remover in your mouth?" She asks.

I nod, "Sí, mama."

"Why?"

It breaks me. Now's when I have to admit it. "To kill myself," I whimper. I can't meet her eyes, but I force myself to look at her face. She looks so sad, so...disappointed.