I hope today will be a better day for me. I can't even think of a Jolly Rancher anymore without gagging or shaking in fear. That was just two girls. Hannah and Elliana. What about a whole dance team? They won't care about you, Lilliana. They just want to use your mechanism for losing weight against you. They're gonna blackmail you.
I got like thirteen hours of sleep and I still feel tired. But I have to, grudgingly, get up for dancing. I nearly pass out on my bed, lightheadedness overtaking me as I sit back down and hold my head in my hands for a second before I, slowly, get up, holding onto my nightstand as I gain more momentum and make my way to the dresser.
As I put on a long-sleeved green dance shirt and black leggings, I try to remember my calorie limit. It's fuzzy, but I finally get to the number 300. 300 calories. More than yesterday. A relief to my friends. I go to the bathroom and look at my bruised and frankly, rotten-looking, ugly wrists. But they're so beautiful at the same time.
"Lilly! Take your medicine!" I hear Mom shout, and I groan.
They don't do anything anyway anymore. The intrusive thoughts grew stronger. It overpowered them. Now they're useless. Don't take them, Lilliana. You'll be prettier and better without the medication. But I stubbornly take them anyway before I do my ponytail and my makeup quickly. I grab my duffel bag and my phone and I anxiously start making my way to the door.
"Ensure!" Mom shouts, doing her makeup.
She's not here. I hate lying, but it's easier to fake this. I open the fridge, waiting for about three seconds, before quickly shutting it and walking out the door, no Ensure. I quickly make my way down the hallway and turn my back to my Mom, who is walking down behind me. I tilt my head back just enough to make it seem like I'm drinking my Ensure, and before she can get a closer look, I throw the "Ensure" in the garbage. I look at Mom as we wait for the elevator, seeing if I can read her face.
"You drink quick, kid," Mom comments before scoffing and shaking her head.
"Are we carpooling?" I ask Mom, and she nods.
"We're taking Pressley and Brady. They practically begged to carpool with you. You got some new besties," Mom reveals, and internally I groan, while externally a cheeky smile gleams across my face.
Brady and Pressley aren't there when we arrive. I go on my phone to look at the schedule. For some reason, we're starting at eight instead of our regular time. A late start. They're trying to spend as much time as they can not teaching you, Lilliana. They don't think they can salvage your awful dancing. They're only teaching you for the money. Your mother is only taking you there for a paycheck.
Legs and feet at eight, school from nine, tap at ten, contemporary at noon, school and lunch from one, jazz at two, lyrical at three, school at four, and hip hop at five. Man, no ballet until tomorrow. And legs and feet first.
"Lilly! What's your first class?" I hear a chipper voice ask above me.
I whip my head up to see Pressley and Brady hovering over me.
"Oh, legs and feet," I tell them.
"We all have the same classes! Sweet!" Brady announces as we walk out to the car, Mom trailing behind.
"Yeah. We'll get through legs and feet together," Pressley murmurs, and I groan.
"What's wrong with that class? It helps with our technique," Brady asks and Pressley opens the car door.
"Ms. Abby likes to pick on our legs and feet," I sigh as I climb into the middle seat.
"Oh," Brady mumbles, going quiet.
YOU ARE READING
Une Fleure Fanée
Fanfiction***MATURE WARNING*** "The hunger is good. You had too many calories already. You're already fat." "They'll love you even more when you're skinny. You'll be their perfect little angel when you're nice and pretty." "Lilly, I heard you puking up the c...
