Before My Eyes

Chapter 3

The weekend couldn't have come any quicker. I mean, 'our rooms' were now decorated and somewhat suited us, but something still felt like it was missing. I glanced at the small gap below my bed, tempted to reach underneath and pull out the yellow envelope. My hand paused.

Is it just me or does it smell like pancakes with bananas? I think my nose is going off.

"Guys!... and girl! Dinner's ready!" Elijah yelled from downstairs.

I let out a sigh and slowly stood up, making my way to the door. I don't exactly feel hungry. Taking my time, I opened the door and crept through the hallway and down the stairs into the dining room, taking my usual seat on Kayden's left.

"You took your time." Edison mumbled, causing me to glare at him.

I finally looked down at my food after a good couple of moments of silently glaring at Edison and him seeming unfazed.

We're having pasta bolognese. I used to love this as a kid. I slowly reached for my fork before digging in, not eating too fast and taking small bites at a time, slightly covering my mouth as I ate.

Elijah sat opposite me and on my right/his left was Edison, who kept glaring at me every now and again. He couldn't have sat somewhere else and Nicholas or Oscar sit there?

At least they weren't staring at me while I ate. I shifted in my seat as I took another couple of bites of my food. I aimed to eat half and push the rest together to make it look like I ate more. But there's kinda no point, it's all leaving me one way or another - whatever it takes.

And I mean.. I know it sounds like a lot, but I am actually kinda starving and haven't eaten properly in weeks. Well more like years, but that's not the point.

I'm halfway there. Everyone else has either finished or almost finished. At least Kayden wasn't a fast eater so he had only eaten a bit more than me, but that's mainly because he's been talking. I don't have an excuse except the fact I'm not hungry and I'm a slow eater.

I must've zoned out whilst looking at my plate and twirling the fork around slowly because before I could react, Elijah reached over the table and stabbed a couple pieces of pasta with his fork and shoved them in his mouth, not caring what he looked like. I looked up at him.

"What? You were taking too long and I don't like people wasting good food." He whispered. He did this a few more times but no one seemed to notice, which I was happy about.

He pushed some pasta towards me, which wasn't much, and signalled for me to eat it while he ate the rest. He then quickly sat back down right before Michael or anyone else noticed.

I just hope this means he'll give me smaller portions of food.

Once everyone was finished, we were allowed to leave.

Wait, did he only eat my food so he could leave sooner?

I went straight back to 'my room' and sprinted to the bathroom, duking down in front of the toilet before forcing myself to throw up. I could feel the food coming right back up, none of it properly digested yet. The taste in my mouth only made me want to throw up more, and I did until I felt like there was nothing left to throw up.

I spat into the toilet, letting the last of the sick, which was caught in my mouth, to leave me. I wiped down the seat, put the lid down and flushed the toilet before standing up and washing my hands and face. I took out my toothbrush and toothpaste and began to brush my teeth to get that awful taste out of my mouth.

You can tell how dirty minded you are when your brain randomly says 'it's weird how from a young age you put a 1-8 inch stick in your mouth with white stuff that you eventually have to spit out'. Seriously, what does my mind come up with?