Good Enough

One Year Ago - Mia Blake

My hands wrap around my stomach. Hunger is clawing at me, but I don't want to eat. I'm scared I wouldn't be able to keep it down, and I don't want to throw up in the middle of a Christmas party.

My little sister looks up at me while sucking on a lollipop she got in her stocking. Blonde curls frame her chubby face, one that is very similar to mine. And now, her smile turns into a worried frown.

"Are you okay Me-Me?"

I hate the nickname. But my Mom insists on calling me that.

"Yup. Fine. I just need to go to the bathroom." My tone is clipped as I look past Zoe and to my mom, who is on her third plate of food. With the sight of this, I back my chair up and head towards the bathroom. Once inside, I lock the door and I turn on the lights.

I look disgusting. This off the shoulder top is too tight on me. It's making me look fat.

/You're making yourself look fat, technically./

I shut my eyes tightly. I hate these thoughts, but what I hate more is when they don't stop. It feels like everyday they get worse. They get louder and louder until all I can hear is the thoughts.

I rub my temples before looking in the mirror again. I zero in on my face, trying on different smiles until I pick one that is the perfect mix of happy, but not fake looking. It's not the best, but it will work until this party is over. It's not like Mom or Dad will pay that close notice to my smile.

I run my fingers through my hair, reapply my lipgloss, and straighten out my shirt before walking out the bathroom. On my way back to the dining room, I pass the kitchen, and the different smells of food invades my nostrils. Invades my whole body really. My arms instinctively wrap around my stomach again. I feel sick.

Just don't eat anything else tonight. Then you won't feel sick anymore.

Right. I won't. If I don't eat anything else tonight, then there's no more risk of me throwing up from my stomach hurting.

This is a good plan.