To Those Who Don't Belong

21

I stared into the gritty mirror at the early hour of four a.m.

I was so fat. I wanted to be like George. So skinny, so sexy. My hair was too greasy. My nose made me look like a hobgoblin. How could anyone love me? My sad eyes met me in the mirror. My eyes. Why would anyone call them beautiful?

I stepped on the scale. 134 pounds. I'm 5'6". Meaning I was short and chubby. Everyone told me I was skinny, but I knew they were lying.

"Ritchie?" I heard a knock on the door.

"One second," I jumped and opened the door.

"What were you doing?" George yawned.

"Um, nothing important. Come on," I lightly slapped his cheek, "let's get back to bed."

"No. Something is wrong. I won't be able to sleep till I know, Rings."

I turned my face away so not to see him. "George. Please, let's go to bed," I had a sterness to my tone.

"What's wrong?" He kept pressing.

"Nothing."

"No, something is wrong. Now, te-"

"George! I said nothing was wrong! You always do this. Now, let's go to bed already!" I yelled, tears almost running down my face.

George was completely silent. He left without me and laid in bed, watching the ceiling. I came following and didn't speak a word to George. George just sighed heavily and turned away from me.

"Good night," the usual pet name like luv, or darling didn't follow

"Good night."