𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎/𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

𝟏𝟎 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤?

"Yeah, but can I really judge him that much? I did shag his best friend—we were drunk, but I still did it. I can't judge him..."

"Exactly, you were drunk... He went around and—"

"Okay, please, Mols, I really don't want to talk about it right now." I sighed, shutting my eyes briefly. "I didn't even want to bring it up, but he acts like he didn't even do it. It's like he doesn't even remember it..." My tone twisted into a bitter and slightly vicious one. "Anyway, let's stop talking about me, how are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, girlie, same old. I didn't call to talk about me, tell me what's been happening over there! Apart from the B-R-I-A-N situation. You're literally living with Queen whilst they record their album! You have to give me at least a teeny-weeny bit of insight..." I could hear her pouting at the other end of the phone.

"Nope," I popped the 'p', grinning. "You know I'm not allowed to disclose anything. I could get in trouble for that."

"And since when do you worry about getting into trouble, Maria Brennan?"

"This is different, my freckled friend. This doesn't just affect me. If I told you anything about what was happening here, music-wise, there's a chance it may get out there..." I paused, giving a pointed look with my eyes in the direction of the phone. There was a silence from the other end. "Molly?"

"I'm here, I'm here... Just thinking about how right you are about it getting out. I can't keep my mouth shut."

"Yep! So, you'll just have to find things out with the rest of the world, freckles."

"What's with the freckles?" She asked through a laugh.

"I don't know, I just miss your face," I laughed back.

That short moment of laughter we shared made me somewhat melancholy. I missed my small, but cosy, flat, and my crazy, but rational, best friend.

"On a real note..." Molly started, her voice lowering. "...Are you okay?"

I looked around the hallway I was stood in for any sign of anybody else around. I knew Roger was in the kitchen, but I couldn't see anybody else. I swallowed and took a deep breath. "I'm trying..." I admitted.

"Maria... You told me you'd call me if you felt off."

"I know, I know... I promise you I tried."

"What do you mean you tried?"

"I'm trying, trying... Present tense." I furrowed my eyebrows, chewing harshly on my bottom lip.

"Maria..."

I whined a little, mentally kicking myself for slipping up. "I uh..." I lowered my voice to a mumble. "I slipped up again."

I felt the anxiety ball up in my stomach and I swear to you I could feel it travelling up my body as though I was about to throw it all up.

"...Cutting?"

"No."

I heard Molly sigh. I hated disappointing her.

"I knew you shouldn't have gone with those cigarettes, Maria. Cutting is bad, but do you thinking burning yourself is going to make it any better?"

I cringed at the scolding. "No, I know..." I ran my hand over my face and kept it there. "Every night while I'm trying to go to sleep, I just feel it bubbling up. When I don't do it, I just have a panic attack until I tire myself out enough. Then, the reflection in the mirror... I can't even say it, I hate it. I feel sick just thinking about how big I really am."

"You're not big." The three words I heard too many times in my twenty-five years of living.

"You're not in my mind. Genuinely, though, I think I need to lose more weight on my waist, there's—"