I pressed my forehead up against the pane of glass and shuddered as the condensation seeped into my skin and left a cold mark on my skin. The journey from the town centre to the bus stop outside my house was forty minutes, and, when my iPod had oh-so conveniently run out of charge and my phone had decided to run out of credit, the bus ride wasn't exactly thrilling. I busied myself in blowing on the window and then writing my name in the fogged up section. Fun. The bus was almost empty, only me and two other middle aged men remained, which I was slightly wary of. I drew my coat tighter around my middle and folded my arms across my chest as if to say, come near me and I'll knife you. It had been an okay day after all...Amy had turned out to be surprisingly good company and had been a laugh; trying on clothes that we both knew would look ridiculous and then prancing around in them like someone out of a panto. It was amusing, needless to say. I couldn't help but count down the hours until I could tweet Christian again, though. Ever since I had created a Tumblr account dedicated to him, he had been replying to more and more of my messages, which suited me just fine. It had gotten to the stage where I could pretend he was my boyfriend without much hassle. I'd lie awake at night, in bed, with my eyes squeezed shut, and let my mind wander. I'd imagine Christian and myself sitting in a coffee shop in the dead of the night, hands clapsed over the table and eyes locked. We wouldn't say anything, there would be no need. The silence would be enough to form a bond between us. Christian would lean over to kiss me and I'd take a deep breath, as if I was about to dive underwater, and open my mouth slightly...enticing him. Our lips would join and the fireworks would go off, I'd see stars and my heart would beat a thousand beats a minute - just how they say kissing is like in books and in movies. I sunk down further in my seat and closed my eyes, reliving this fantasy.
* * * *
I slipped my key into the lock and entered the house, startled to see my mother waiting in the hallway. She didn't say a word. I turned and softly closed the door, as if by doing so she wouldn't realise that I'd come inside. Our eyes met.
"What's up, mom." I asked, faking nonchalance. I busied myself in fiddling with the straps on my bag; anything to avoid my mom's penetrating gaze.
"I made you some cookies." She surprised me by saying. I quirked an eyebrow.
"I totally though you were going to flip your shit about something I'd done." I breathed, finally letting myself relax. Sauntering into the kitchen, I grabbed the plate of cookies and proceeded to leave the kitchen. Mother stopped me.
"Not so fast, Eva. I want to make sure that you actually eat them." She said, hardly daring to speak above a whisper. My hands shook and a lump rose in my throat. I looked down at the plate and back up again at my mother. I could almost feel the calories moving through the air, sliding down my neck and adding to the already masses of fat that were stored in my stomach. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear the thoughts from my head.
"Why can't I just eat upstairs?" I pleaded, my throat dry. My stomach gurgled right on cue, a loud rumble that caused my mom to look down at my stomach.
"NO. DON'T LOOK AT ME." I demanded, twisting away from her. I threw the cookies across the table so the plate spiralled round until slowing to a stop. Clutching my stomach, I blindly reached to push her away and thundered up the stairs and into my bedroom where I shut myself into the wardrobe and closed my eyes. Safe at last. I could hear her hurtling into my room and calling my name. I huddled further into my wardrobe, placing a hand over my chest so I could feel my racing heartbeat. I shouldn't have done that. I flipped out and now she's not going to let me get away with starving myself. She's going to force me to eat, but I won't. I can't eat. It's like there's something inside of me that snaps when I consume calories...food makes me hate myself more than anything else ever could. Food makes me feel worthless; a fat disgusting little whore that Christian would NEVER want. I rubbed fiercely at my eyes, wiping away the tears that lingered there. I didn't have the right to cry. Crying only made you look even uglier than you usually do Eva, I reminded myself. Christian wouldn't want a self pitying little fatty for a girlfriend.
