WP EXCLUSIVE | old/unedited | #1 in freetheboy, traumacore, boyscrytoo, and cynicism | Genre(s): realistic, psychological, new adult fiction.
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Eighteen-year-old Tyler Petrit is tired. He's tired of his drug-addicted father always blaming him f...
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It takes me until I'm sitting in my seat to realize I'll fail my English class.
"I hope you all finished your projects. Those of you who didn't bring yours in early, please take them out now," Mr. Clark says.
I watch as the back of the room empties, more and more models and posters coming into view. Even Gio finished the fucking project. His sits in the back with some others.
The frown grows wider on Mr. Clark's face as he eyes me, knowingly. I've disappointed yet another person. "And where is your project, Mr. Petrit?" Malice drips from his words and wraps around my neck.
"I didn't do it."
"You know, slacking won't help you in the long run."
I want to say, "Dad slacked off his entire life, roped my mother in, got a kid out of it, and just replaced her when she left him. I'll have to deal with you for another few months, Dad the rest of my life. I'd rather keep him at bay than you. You won't help me in the long run."
But I just say, "Sorry."
He turns to direct his wrath at someone else, and once he looks everyone over, he calls each of us up to present. I draw in my notebook. Alaska scratches at the chipped desk paint.
When the bell rings, I'm the first one out.
Math and Physics are pretty much the same - the language of numbers with formulas as proverbs.
I think about food the entire time, about how I'm starving, about how I felt when I forced it all up. I don't want to feel that way again, so I won't eat.
I keep telling myself it's easy. Really, all I have to do is not put fucking food in my mouth. Dinner is just seven hours away.
But it's not easy when it's painful. People don't feel pain with adrenaline. People don't have adrenaline without energy.
It's like I'm spilling and melting all over the floor and I have to physically collect myself, shove all my skin back into the correct places and straighten my crooked fucking brain. My eyes are so heavy they might snap from my fucking head. I have to go to lunch soon, but God...if I eat during lunch, then I might binge again later.
It's best if I just don't eat at all.
They say you hurt less when you acknowledge your pain. I tell myself that I deserve it and accepting the fact I deserve it makes it easier to cope with. If I deserve it, there's no point in stopping it. Not stopping it makes me lose weight.
I turn a page in my notebook and start doodling.
Draw happy things, my subconscious pleads. What begins as a flower turns into a shrub of thorns. Soft clouds in orange skies turn into lightning in a black abyss.
