The Curtis sister imagines & stories pt.2

(Troubles)

TW: body dysmorphia

(I'm in a rlly boring class rn and figured I'd go through some unfinished drafts)

My warm hands came up to my ugly face, already starting to feel the salty tears leak down my palms, and soon past my wrists and down my arms. Some tears fell quickly, while some stayed back slowly. Either way, they were being let out by sobs that racked my body harshly. All though I was screaming in my head, I tried my absolute best to keep my sobs quiet; not letting anybody else in the tiny house hear my pathetic cries.

My hands soon, but slowly, started to peel away from my train-wreck-of a face. Black mascara now covered the area around my soaking eyes, making me look a mess. I tried to contain my tears at the thought.

I stepped away from my bedroom mirror, trying to get a good look at my hated-self. Looking at myself, I felt absolutely trapped; trapped like a tiny mouse, begging and begging after being swallowed whole by a sharp trap under a kitchen sink. No matter how much I tried, how little I ate, how many sit-ups I ached, I was still trapped in this imperfect body. Even worse..it was my imperfect body.

Tears still leaked down my face silently as I began to twist and turn in my mirror. Some people-even my brothers-have told me I needed to start eating more, or to 'put more meat on my bones' but that's not nearly what I thought. My-once sparkling, now drained-eyes only saw fat, fat, and more fat. Thing is, no matter how much weight I lose, my brain will keep telling me more, more, and more. I need to lose more. Truth be told, there is no 'too skinny' when you're obsessed with what you look like, what you eat, and how you wanna look. It's just a never ending chapter.

I twisted my body so I was looking at the fat on my back that reflected in the mirror. I could see how fat scrunched up terribly on my side. I knew what I was doing; trying to trigger myself...and don't ask me why, because I don't even know. However, my lip started to quiver at the-so I thought-heart-shattering sight of my body.

The all too familiar taste of salty liquid was now running down my trembling lips and beginning to drip down my chin. My eyes couldn't keep themselves off the nauseating sight of my figure. This is never gonna end, I thought miserably in my head. The constant judging of my body, the constant counting of calories, even the way I think of food now; everything.

I let out a pathetic sob.

Knock, knock, knock

came from my wooden door. Panic flooded over me immediately. My heart skipped a beat as my head flew up into the mirror.

Fuck.

My mascara was too badly smudged and overall, too horrible to be fixed this quickly. My eyes were pink and puffy.

"Y/n?..are okay? Ya haven't came out all night" Soda, one of my brothers, asked through the door. A painful knot formed in my stomach, panicking.

"I'm fine, just tired" I lied through my teeth, at the same time cringing as my voice sounded thick from all the crying. I was only hoping my brother wouldn't notice. Last thing I needed was him worrying about my pathetic problems.

"Ya sure?" He questioned, knocking on the door once more. I nodded, even though he couldn't see me.

"I'm fine" I shouted back towards the door. I waited a few seconds before I heard footsteps leading away from my room door and back down the hallway. I sighed quietly as I sat down on my bed.

Soda's POV
I sauntered back into the living room, where the whole gang was seated somewhere in the tiny room. Darry was the first to look at me. I shook my head with a slightly defeated sigh.

"She didn't come out?" Pony rose from his seat on the floor, holding a sad puppy look on his face. I only frowned as I plopped down on the couch, taking a seat beside Dal and Steve.

"Well she needs to come out sometime" Twobit reassured from his spot on the floor.

My sister has been nothing but in her room, each and everyday. I mean, she comes out for 30% of the day, while the other 60% she spends in that room. Every since mom and dad's death-3 months ago-she hasn't been the same. Hell, non of us have.

there was an unhappy silence in the room full of us greasers. The defeat in the air could be so quick to sense, nobody even needed to say or do anything.

"I'll see if I can get er' up" Dal barley mumbled, rising from his seat beside me and stalking off to the hallway towards Y/n's room.

"Dal, don't"-Darry tried to protest, but having been cut off by Dal's to far of a distance to acknowledge him. I ran a hand through my un-greased hair, hoping Dal could get her to come out with us, but also hoping things don't escalate to far. Knowing Dallas, I was uncertain as I watched the hood disappear around the corner.

Dal's POV
Enough is enough. Enough of this shit. Everybody was getting sick of it, including myself. Why can't Y/n see that she's wanted, by all of us, so why the hell was she always mopping around. Shit is what we all go through, but this has gone on long enough. God...I sound like Darry now. I cringed at the thought.

My tightly closed fist knocked on the girl's wooden door. I waited for an answer, and when I didn't get one, I knocked again, this time somewhat harder. "Y/n" I called out as I knocked once more.

"What?" She finally called out. Only, I scrunched my brows at the odd, thick sound in her voice.

I didn't bother to reply, only clenched my fist around the knob, twisted it, unclenched, and opened the door as I walked in. As I did, my eyes scanned quickly around the room, then narrowed at the sight of Y/n.

"What are ya doing?" I ask flatly, inwardly wondering why this girl in front of me has black shit running down her eyes; like girl's do when they cry. But why the hell is she crying?

"Nothing" she gave me a stupid lie, as she tried to wipe her cheeks with her hoodie sleeves.

"That's why ya got black shit all down your face?" I pointed at the mess above her neck, being the smartass I know I can be.

"Ya Dal, that's exactly why" Y/n replied bitterly, making me feel slightly spike an ass. I sat myself on the teen girl's bed as I watched her begin to wipe her face with one of those make-up wipe thingys, as she looked into her mirror for support.

"Your brothers are worried 'bout ya" I state flatly, still staring at the auburn haired girl. She didn't reply or turn around, only looked at me in the mirror.

"Well, you can tell them that they don't need ta' be" she spoke, while throwing her black covered wipe in the trash.

"I think it'd be better if you told them that yourself" I said, hoping maybe that'd get her to come out, and maybe even chat with us. It was nothing but silence for a moment. Finally, she spoke, but it sure wasn't what I was expecting.

"Get out, Dal" she held no emotion in her voice, if anything, it was bitterness. Sure, I get bitter and rude comments on the street all the time, and they wouldn't bother me-not ever. But hearing it from Y/n, that just hits different man.

"What?" I scoffed, staring at the girl who now would've even look at me. Did I know why? Not a fucking clue.

"I said get out! Get the fuck out, Dallas!" Y/n actually had the nerve to blow up at me, after I was just trying to help her. I couldn't help but get angry at the thought.

"Fine. Do whatever ya want, see if I care" I scoffed before walking out the door, trying not to slam it in the process but failing miserably. My feet pounded the wooden floors as I stalked through the house and towards the front door.

"What happened? Did she say anything?" Soda asked as he sat up rapidly as soon as I entered the living room. I didn't reply, only headed out the door, pissed off for too many reasons.

——————————————————-
Sorry I had no idea how to end this one, but I hope ya'll liked it anyways.