Flicker (H.S)

19.

19.

“Dear Dana,

I’m scared. Not of him. Of myself. He’s always told me that I’m beautiful but now, I’m looking at myself in the mirror and all I see is fat. I’m fat, fat, fat. And he asked me why I wasn’t eating dinner yesterday so I ate and then went to the bathroom and puked it up, like I used to. He caught me and started yelling, and when I started crying so did he. He’s so beautiful, Dana, when he cries. He said that pregnancy is a good thing, that pregnancy looks good on me. But it doesn’t. I’m fat, fat, fat. Right now, he’s in the kitchen cleaning up the food I didn’t eat and I feel guilt.

I need a mum.

I need you.

But I can’t come home.

Will you please love me again?

Love,

your daughter.”

[sent September 10th, 2016]

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e v e r l y

She’s dressed in black.

Head to toe, dressed in black.

Black can be beautiful, on occasion. But today black means whispered messages to people who can’t hear and wilting flowers and silent crying.

Black is death, today.

Everly smooths out the wrinkles in the simple dress that smells like mourning and runs shaking fingers through the tangles in her dark hair that she attempted to curl. She stopped halfway through though, because Harry’s name popped up on her phone and she decided that there are more important things than boys who lie about caring and curling strands of hair that will, ultimately, become straight again after she showers. So she turned off the iron and has been standing in front of the mirror ever since, wondering why someone would ever pay attention to her.

She was tall, sure. Everly stood out for one reason only- her height. Standing at an impressive 1.77 metres, she towers above most.

But her face was ordinary. A light dusting of freckles scatter across her tanned cheeks and a couple pimples sit on her forehead, usually covered by a bit of foundation Everly raids Dana’s bathroom cabinets to find.

Her eyes are normal. They’re brown. Boring brown that only looks pretty if you catch them in the right light and look close enough to see the specks of gold floating around. But not many people care enough to look at all.

In a split second decision, Everly pulls her dress over her head and sets it on her bed gently before turning back to the mirror. She sees ribs. And scars. And maybe a hint of depression. But mostly she just sees skinny. She’s skinny, skinny, skinny and it scares her. There were people at the orphanages that got so skinny that they were merely bones covered by thin, veined skin. And when they saw food they would just stare and clutch at their satisfyingly small stomachs. They were skinny, skinny, skinny, and she’s becoming one of them.

Her gaze travels to her thighs and she quickly rips her eyes away.

Her legs are skinny, skinny, skinny, and it scares her.

“Everly, it’s time to go lovely.” Dana’s voice travels up the stairs and Everly jumps into action, grabbing her black dress and tugging it down over her ribs and scars and stomach that looks a bit like depression but more like skinny, skinny, skinny.

She races down the steps and passes Rosie who was sitting on the floor, counting the scars on her leg. Eventually, she gives up because she can’t yet count to that number.