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this chapter is such a load of rubbish i'm sorry, but i'll update again as soon as i can. this should give some clarification as in who to trust...maybe lol i don't even know any more xD let me know what you think and if you have any questions, feel free to ask. i love you guys more than any collection of words can tell, each and every one of you mean the world to me, and i am eternally grateful for the support you offer, you're all amazing. x

p.s. i know every chapter is triggering but i mean, look out for this one more, i guess? just don't read if you're easily triggered because there's a few mentions that might be more triggering to some than others. a lot of people tell me that this entire book is composed of too many triggering events and i'm sorry, but i thought it best to give a warning this time? even though every chapter has a  trigger of some sort and your health and safety is the most important thing so if this is affecting you at all, or the triggers become too much, please stop reading.

     His words hit me like a train, as if I were run over and over again a million times and left to rot. Did Rider mean that Harry brought me here, to rehab, because he knew that it would hurt me?  Of course he did, you idiot. Do you honestly think that Harry cares about you and your well being? I shut my eyes tightly as the voice pools through my mind, a sinister laugh soon following. Why wouldn't it-she-the hunger, just go away?

        "What do you mean?" I whisper, sadness overcoming me. I knew that I didn't believe Harry, I wasn't that stupid. But part of me maybe hoped that he was sincere, that he cared, that he was the Harry I had grown to love so many years ago again. Rider wasn't helping though, and I didn't really know what to believe. 

          "The bet," I breathe a sigh of relief after he speaks, releasing a breath I didn't even realize I was holding. Did I honestly care that much? 

           "You told me about that already." I growl, turning away from him. Rider sighs and I feel his fingers brush against my shoulder for a second before he pulls away, thinking better of it. Good. Don't touch me. Don't you dare.

           Yeah, we wouldn't want him getting a load of that fat now would we, Skylar?

             "I didn't tell you everything because keeping it a secret was part of the agreement." He sighs angrily, like he wants to say something but can't quite phrase it the right way. He waits a few seconds, only our breathing filling the room. "Could you look at me, please? This is important. You're important." Rider says softly, gently grazing my arm. Goose flesh spreads across my skin like wildfire and I shut my eyes, swallowing hard. I wonder what he's thinking. I wonder if this hospital suit emphasizes everything I try to hide. I wonder if he has seen the beach shoots I did with Harry and even before that, half dressed, body and fat and everything exposed. I wonder what he thinks. I wonder if he hates me as much as I hate me, as much as I hate him. I wonder if he's thinking about what a mess I am. How fat and ugly and worthless and what a waste of space I was. Of course he was, it's what everyone thought. I was even a waste of space in this rehabilitation center, crowding up a room that could be used for someone who actually wanted to blow up like a balloon, someone who needed help getting into the happy zone, the goal of places like this.

     Because it was supposed to help. All of us, all of the "crazy bitches" were supposed to have the alcohol flushed from their system, stomach's and throats repaired, no longer burning from the stomach acid we constantly threw up. Our ribs were supposed to be buried under even more layers of fat, we were supposed to climb the scale and smile and laugh and eat, eat, eat, until the scale crumbled beneath us because they made us fat, fat, fat. I wouldn't let them, not to me. No fucking way. Cuts were supposed to heal and close and fade and drugs would be washed away and by the time we left this place we would be pumped full of fat and happy pills so we wouldn't off ourselves, starve or throw up blood or do any of the things that got us here in the first place.

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