It's Nothing

Chapter 1

Hunger.

It hurts. It feels like my body is eating me from the inside out. My body is crying out for some sort of fuel, but I refuse. I would never tell anyone this, but, I like it.

I like the way hunger hurts. Every time that my stomach begs for food, I get to say no. I have control. It feels amazing.

I go through the days in a haze, but the hunger wakes me up. The hunger keeps me alive.

I slowly stop eating. It's very little at first. I do it this way so I don't raise suspicion. Skip a meal there and a meal here, and before I know it, it's been a whole day since a piece of food has passed my lips.

There are times when the hunger pains are unbearable. Those are the days where I am my weakest. Those are the days I have to be strong.

My mom and dad haven't noticed, not that they paid attention before. They're so caught up with Dylan's basketball games that they don't notice when I skip his games to train. They don't notice anymore.

All I do is train. I want to be faster, and I am. Every time I feel like the hunger is about to break me, I think about how my times are down. I think about how I'm starting to catch the attention of colleges that I thought were out of reach. I think about how for the first time, it's me getting the attention, not Dylan. It's me they're looking at, and that makes me smile.

I smile as I finish my last lap of the day at practice. It's getting colder outside and the air burns my chest. I take deep breaths to try and regulate my breathing as Coach Phillips walks towards me. He doesn't look happy. I feel my stomach drop as he shows me the stop watch.

Three more seconds than usual.

My head starts filling with so many thoughts before he speaks up. "Maybe you should take the rest of the week off, Jacks." He suggests as he hands me water.

"I don't understand." I say breathlessly. "All I've been doing is training." Coach looks at me with worried eyes and I see him trying to think of the right words to say.

"Maybe that's it!" He states. "Your body just needs some rest. Tell you what, take tomorrow the weekend to relax." Coach suggests. I feel all the blood in my body start to boil.

"That's three fucking days!" I exclaim as I throw the water bottle to the ground. "How am I supposed to get my times down if I can't train?" I watch as Coach Phillip's eyes go wide, surprised by my actions.

"Jacks, calm down." He says calmly reaching out to place a hand on my shoulder. I quickly push his hand off in anger.

"How can I calm down when you're trying to sabotage me?" I huff as I start to collect my stuff. "I don't need a fucking break." This is when I notice that everyone on the track team had been watching my little outburst. Their eyes followed me as I start to walk away. "I'll be here tomorrow!"

I take the opportunity to run home seeing as I could stand to burn a few extra calories. The wind is burning my chest again and my body begs for me to stop, but I ignore it. My feet feel heavy against the pavement and I start to slow down, but I force my legs to continue.

By the time I make it to my neighborhood, my vision is blurry and black spots are clouding my vision. I'm in my driveway when I scream out in pain as my ankle snaps beneath me. A shooting pain flows throughout my entire body and I can barely breathe. I collapse onto the pavement unable to move. My breathing slows and I wonder if this is how my family will find me. Broken and on the edge of death. I let my eyes close and I decide that this is a better time than ever to give up.

When I wake up, it felt as if my body had been dragged for miles. I open my eyes to find myself in a dark room being illuminated by a beeping screen beside me.

I'm in the hospital.

I blink a few times to really take in my surroundings. To my right, my mother is sleeping in the chair next to my bed. Her cheeks are stained with her own tears. My brother laid on the cot in front of my bed. My father, however, was no where to be seen. I try to sit up and groan as a sharp pain shoots through my leg. My mother springs up from her chair with fear written on her face.

"Jacks, are you okay?" She asks as she wipes her eyes. "You've been out for hours."

I swallow and try to answer, but before I could get any words out, my father walks into my room with the doctor behind him.

"You're awake?" The doctor asked looking at his clipboard. "I'm Doctor Anderson." I nodded in response still unable to find my words. "You've got a nasty stress fracture in your left ankle," he begins. "I'm going to need you to stay off of it for 6-8 weeks."

"No." I stated which resulted in a fit of coughs.

"Your Dad told me you were a runner, but if you want that to heal properly you're gonna need to stay off of it for a while." Doctor Anderson reasoned. "You have no choice."

I could feel my anger building up in my body and I try to keep myself from exploding, but it doesn't work. "How am I supposed to train?" I ask with an annoyed tone. "I have a meet in five weeks that I need to be ready for!"

I could tell Doctor Anderson is taken back by my response and he takes a moment before speaking again.

"You will not be running in that race. This isn't something you can fight me on." He states. "You have to let that heal properly."

"Jacks, honey?" My mother asks as she reaches to stroke my cheek. "It's gonna be okay." I rolled my eyes pushed her hand away.

"Aren't visiting hours over?" I ask avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. "I get that you're my family, but I need privacy."

I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, but I couldn't stop them. Every word is just as hurtful as the last, and yet, I keep saying them. I want to apologize, but instead I attack my father next.

"Jesus, Dad, now you act like you care?" I ask sarcastically. "We all know you'd rather be at home watching the tapes of Dylan's fucking games than be here."

"Jackson, watch your mouth!" My dad warns stepping closer to my bed. I look him directly in the eye and say, "Just get the fuck out of my room."