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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MARCH
My alarm clock beeps, but I've been frozen in the same spot for hours. I never closed my eyes.
My stomach grumbles. I pinch it.
Cut all the fatty meat off with a butcher knife and let the demons feast.
The cupboard is a scary place. It's full of all the foods I've pushed out of my mind. All of my cravings in one place, with all of the bags open.
Chips. Cookies. Donuts.
Once I get to the bottom of the pack, what's left is a nice, filling serving of Regret, either wedged in the corner with the crumbs or chewed up and stuck in my teeth with everything else.
I go to the cupboard only to look, because I'm a fucking basket case.
Of course, it's super fucking early. The sun is just now streaming through the blinds.
I also realize how unappetizing everything looks. The chips and donuts are too greasy and the cookies are too stale and bitter. At best, the rice cakes have no taste and the least amount of calories, but they're Candace's, so I can't eat them. With this in mind, I go back to bed.
Shove it down your throat and deal with her in the morning.
No.
I drop to the floor and do fifty pushups, taking a breather every ten. Because of all the running I've been doing, my upper body strength is terrible. I never really bothered to lift weights or anything. The most exercise my arms have gotten is when I'm riffling through the cupboard and shoveling shit into my mouth.
It's another goal for me to set. The weights will get heavier and heavier until I'm totally fucking ripped.
After that, I can stop.
I do another fifty pushups before switching to situps. I can see my face looking a little thinner, but my stomach is what bothers me.
All the fat is just there, oozing off my torso like clay.
I close my eyes as the room spins. I don't deserve food, anyway. Most people can control their eating habits, so they deserve to eat. I can't control it and I'll just eat more than what would be considered healthy. What's the point?
I'm supposed to meet Gio soon to help him fix cars. There's one part of me that thinks I'll need food to focus and another that is positive I'll be fine without it.
It won't kill me.
Instead of taking my car, I walk to the lot where Gio is.
When he sees me, he silently throws the toolbox at my feet. I assume it's too early for him to feel like talking and he's clenching the wrench so hard that his knuckles are white. I'm not going to question it. Gio is cool unless I piss him off, except he won't tell me when I piss him off and I'll have to try and figure it out myself. By the time I do, he's already over it.
