𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐞, 𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲?

𝟔

(two and a half years later)

Ariana's POV : "You cant go any faster, huh? Fucking whore." Arthur viciously spat under his breath as I tried my hardest to ride him, although the lack of lube made it difficult to do so without feeling an unbearable pain between my legs. Doing as he demanded, I sped up my pace. "You know what, you were a waste of my fuckin money, get the hell outta here." He aggressively hurls me aside, causing me to crash onto the floor with a brutal shove. I can say with little to no pride that I'm used to this treatment by now. Hastily pulling on my clothes, I accepted the payment, quickly exited the house, and hurried back to the car where Mom was waiting. My heart pounded as I slid into the seat beside her, more than eager to leave. "Only thirty bucks? Are you fucking kidding me Ariana?" She huffs in frustration. "I'm sorry." I mumbled.

I do what I fucking can and she still isn't proud of me. How many bruises do I have to get until I can put a smile on her face? I just want her to hold my hand and tell me I did the best I could. That everything's gonna be okay. Maybe I'm the problem.

"Y'know I'm seriously starting to think you're just getting lazy on me." She grits through her teeth. God, Ariana. Fucking get it together already. Pathetic little whore. I'll try harder next time.

We drove back home in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. My stomach growled loudly, a painful reminder that I hadn't eaten in two months. The only thing I'd had was water and the occasional carton of milk from school, and sometimes maybe even an orange if I'm good. But I told myself I was fine. I was finally starting to get a little skinny. Maybe Mom would like me more if I was skinny. Maybe the guys would too. The emptiness inside me is more than just hunger; it was a longing for acceptance from the one woman who without a doubt hated me the most simply for existing the wrong way. I wish I knew the right way. I really wish I knew. I'm not eating tonight. I don't deserve to. Not when mom is mad at me. I should've done better.

Billie's POV : As we drove home, the sound of her stomach growling grew louder, and louder, echoing in the quiet car. It was then that the full weight of the situation hit me. She hadn't eaten in god knows how long. I had assumed she was at least eating at school until her teachers reached out, expressing their deep concern over her weight. Looking at her now, she's practically a mere shadow of herself; almost skeletal. The updated weight and height papers from her school confirmed my theories : she weighed just barely 90 pounds. It's my fault. I know it's my fault. 

I need help. I need professional help. For the first time in years.. For over 24 hours, I've been completely sober. Not by choice. I'm all out of money, and all my safe dealers are behind bars. My withdrawals last night were deadly.. But it was also a much needed wake up call. My heart ached as I thought about my fourteen-year-old baby girl, reduced to such a fragile state. How has it come to this? How did I get here? How could I let this happen to such a sweet, innocent girl.. I need to help her. I can't do that if I don't help myself first. I know myself. I'll feel differently tonight if I get some Hennessy in my system. Fuck does that matter anyway. Seems like every second I'm in a different goddamn mood. What the hell is wrong with me.

The sudden growl of Ariana's stomach had pulled me away from my out of control train of thought. "You want something to eat or what?" I broke the silence, causing her to jump slightly.

"No thank you." Oh for fucks sake. "Ariana." I warned. "You're eating something whether you like it or not." I put my foot down. After a bit of driving in silence, I pulled up to McDonald's and bought her some fries. When I handed them to her, she just stared at them, her eyes wide with fear. I could practically hear her heart rate pick up its pace by the second. It was as if she saw the fries not as food, but as a threat, each fry representing a calorie that she was terrified to consume. It was as though she perceived food as the enemy rather than nourishment. "Yo can you just fucking eat it already before the shit gets cold?" This is fucking ridiculous, man. All she has to do is pick it up, chew, and swallow. Without warning, she began to break down in tears. Is she seriously crying over some fucking fries right now?