Broken hearts|Beronica

9.

TW: mention of eating disorder and needles

Veronicas POV:
It's been a week since our fight, since we talked and a whole week without Betty's presence next to me. She just ignores me, all day, every day.

I tried talking to her, but she pushes me away, saying she is busy, when she's honestly just, I don't know, angry, sad or confused? I tried talking to her about what happened when she was here, but she ran away, just saying „Sorry, I have to go."

That was her last words.

Since then she hasn't said anything to me and turns around every time I get near her. I feel helpless.

„Veronica, what are you thinking about?", mom asks, I give her a quick glance while she's looking at me with concerned eyes and a sad expression. It makes me feel guilty, because I don't want her or literally anyone to worry about me.

I look up from my plate, directly at her, deciding to show a small smile, telling her that everything's fine and that I'm just not really hungry.

And it's true, I'm not, every meal I eat feels like I'm slowly giving up. It just feels wrong, my body doesn't deserve to feel this good. I need to feel numb physically so I can feel good mentally. That's why the feeling of starving feels right, the way of losing all my strength.

And I try my best to continue just that.

My mom looks at my plate, while I just shove the beans around, not even able to just try to get it into my mouth. Disappointment crosses her face and she takes a quick look at my father, who's already starring at me. An unreadable look on his face.

„Do you have an eating disorder again?", he then asks, „Just tell us already, we won't get mad."

My breathing hitches and I quickly try to wash away the shocked expression off my face, before they notice. And in this moment I realise that I haven't exactly thought this whole situation through. And that of course they're gonna question it eventually.

„What do you mean?", I try to sound clueless what he could be talking about. „I'm just not hungry right now."

„Mija, we noticed.", my mom says, „You haven't eaten very well these past few days."

I know that.

„I've eaten enough mom, trust me. It's just right now that I don't feel like eating.", is all I can get out my voice shivery.

I'm fucked, they're gonna get me in therapy and everything starts all over again.

This replays in my mind.

Last time I had to get into a clinic, and they almost shoved food into my mouth, to get it into my system. I can't handle that again. And memories of my parents being so careful around me, as if I'm going to break at any moment.

I know I was way too thin back then, but it's not like that. In the past it was all about getting smaller, because my so called friends back in New York, made effort in telling me that I in fact was way to big. 

Afterwards in recovery I realised that it was because they had too many problems with themselves, but it was far too late.

I still believed it, they put this thought so deeply into my head, so I tried starved myself, until people noticed and I got send away.

„I know you don't eat enough, stop lying.", my dad states. It makes my heart beat faster. „We just don't want it to end like last time.", which I know is true, it tore them apart. But I don't want them to do something about it at the moment. It's okay the way it is.