It was a week after Billy had left. He and I had ended on a good note, but I was still glad to see him leave. Partially because he still triggered difficult memories, and partially because Luke and I were increasingly distant because we had been unable to talk things out without Travis or Billy overhearing.
I had just forced myself to eat a stalk of cauliflower and a piece of bacon. I'd brushed my teeth to try and erase any evidence of eating for my brain to latch onto, but it wasn't working.
That was why I was in the middle of the forest, with headphones plugged in, going on a run beside the river. The more I thought about what I'd eaten, the faster my heart beat, the faster I ran, and the less I could breathe.
After forty-five excruciating minutes, I could hear Luke shouting behind me. I took my earbud out but did not stop moving.
"Madeline, you're going to exhaust yourself!" He fretted. "You don't have enough in your stomach to sustain exercising this long! Stop running," He tried.
"Since when do you care?" I snapped back, not necessarily to him, trying to force as much air into my lungs as I could.
"I'll always care about you, even when we're fighting." He called back. I was surprised he'd heard me.
He'd been behind me at a corner I'd turned, but now he began jogging to try to catch up with me. I whimpered a little and immediately tried to go faster. I didn't want to stop – I couldn't.
After a long-fought race, Luke's longer stride overtook my withering energy. He caught up to me and latched onto my hand. I immediately shriveled up, unable to look him in the eye.
"Don't make me stop, Luke!" I plead. "If I stop... please, I can't stop."
"Madeline, you don't-"
"I thought I could run away from it all. I just-" I shivered, trying to keep running. Luke held firm to my hand and I began pouring my heart out to him. "I first began to focus on my weight when my dad's beatings got worse. I liked that it was something I had control over. I could decide if I was big or small. If I wanted to gain twenty pounds I could. If I wanted to lose twenty pounds... I could. Then I became infatuated with the idea of becoming smaller," My breathing was shallow from running so hard, and my sentences were coming out in gasps, "I thought if I became small enough, my dad wouldn't notice me- wouldn't see me." I gulped in some air as Luke held me upright. "Then it became an obsession." I squeezed Luke's hand, feeling my eyes go wet, hot with tears. "I ran a lot then, too," I stated. "I guess I was practicing running away. I figured, if I just kept running – whether that be on a treadmill, or on a sidewalk, wherever – I could outpace all my burdens; all my demons. I still think that way, you know; maybe if I run another mile, I can run from the fact that I threw your lighter into the river and your cigarettes in the trash right before the garbage truck came by; maybe I can run from the repercussions of that. Maybe I can escape things that haunt me from my past... Maybe if I run fast enough I can get away from it all." I cut myself off, unwilling to go any further.
"Madeline, you don't have to hide from this. Just because you destroyed my cigarettes... that doesn't mean I don't like you; doesn't mean we aren't family anymore." He assured me. "You are strong. Madeline, you're beautiful. You-"
"You can't romanticize mental illness!" I cut him off, clinging desperately to his hands. "Don't you see? There is no beauty in helplessness. There is no beauty in the inability to cope. There is no beauty in anorexia. I am anorexic. I am anorexia; there is no way for me to be beautiful if all I am is my illness."
"Then the fact that you are the most beautiful woman I've laid eyes on must mean you are kicking anorexia in the ass," He murmured, his tone soothing. "Madeline, you've got this all wrong. There is beauty in struggle and inability – beauty is not always a problem solver, but it is there. There is beauty in the fact that you are broken but still standing. There is beauty in the idea that you are still able to get up every day and you are brave enough to face the world no matter how many times it has spit in your face. Darling, if beauty is as I believe it to be, then it can be found in strength. And if that's how we're looking at it, you're breathtaking."
In that moment, I clung to Luke as if he was a life preserver. I just cried, and he held me.
YOU ARE READING
Stepbrother (Sequel to Stockholm Syndrome)
General Fiction"I just want you to know how terrifying it is to have no control. Like, physically, no control over what happens to you. Nothing. Being at the mercy of someone else's hand." The look he gave me was glazed over with pain. "The thing is, you aren't th...
