Black

Prologue

I had always been skinny. Even as a baby. I wasn't one of those chubby cute little babies with the big cheeks. I was always a 'fair, dainty little madame'. Julie always liked to remind me of that.

I heard her voice in my head on repeat each time I went to eat something 'do you know how many calories are in that?' Each time I slid on a piece of clothing 'is that really right for your body type?'

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, taking it what I saw before me. This is what the therapist said. Stare at my reflection for 10 seconds, think of 3 positive things in my appearance.

I started at my feet. They were small. Size 4. My short skinny toes looked purple, freezing in this cold room. But if I moved to put the heating on I would never do this. Not that I thought this would help. My therapist said I had to though. Apparently self evaluation is big these days.

I moved up, following the bones on my shins until I got to my knees. Sure, they were skinny so they looked kind of knobbly, but I wouldn't say they were unhealthy. I then followed up to my thighs. My thigh gap was currently at about 4 centimetres, largest gap in the school. Why would I see that as something bad? Surely that was a positive thing. I made a mental note of 'thigh gap'.

I went to my hips and felt the bones. They did stick out quite a bit. But not unhealthily.

This is stupid. I thought, throwing myself backwards onto my bed.

I checked my phone, the bright screen piercing my retinas. He still hadn't called. What was wrong with him? I thought. I picked up a magazine from by my bed. Low and behold, Julie herself was slap bang in the middle of cover, judging me for not being able to finish the devil-therapists task.

I thought of one positive, it was a start, I suppose.

"India, your dinner is ready!" Julie bellowed up the stairs.

Forcing myself up and steading my dizziness by grabbing my nearby desk chair, I thought in my mind how to avoid eating as much food as possible. I looked down at my bare body, currently just covered by my underwear and quickly grabbed my clothes from by my mirror, sliding them on with ease.

I was currently a size 6. The aim was 4. I always tell myself just one more pound to loose and I'll be at the 4, but I just haven't made it there yet.

I slowly made my way down the stairs. Paying extra attention to each step, in case I got a dizzy spell.

I walked into the dinning room and saw the kitchen staff had already set the table and were serving dinner.

At the head of the table sat a male, who rarely made it to family dinner. "Daddy," I smiled, patting his shoulder on my way past him to my seat. I received a highly responsive grunt back. "Julie," I nodded to my mother as she sat down in front of me.

"I really wish you would not do that young lady!" She scolded.

"Sorry, Julie." I responded with a snigger.

I quickly looked at my phone, still no messages. Great, even my boyfriend is ignoring me.

"How was school?" My father asked, never looking up from his blackberry.

"Oh, I ditched, yano, the usual. Got a tattoo, pierced both my nipples." I stared at him blankly. His greying hair in place perfectly, as it always was. Even Peter had to adhere to my mothers strict code of conduct, everything had to be picture perfect, always.

"That's nice, dear." He responded. I scoffed. Present and alert as always.

"Have you been following your schedule?" Julie questioned.

"Every day since you pushed me out of your womb, Julie," I replied with a dry tone. My daily schedule, outlining a meal plan, exercise regime, hour by hour slots for homework, showering and social life. It's not all bad, I deliberated, she does allow me an hour a day for designing clothes. An hour a day where I can go into a place where all my worries melt away. Drawing clothes was my safe place, my little sanctuary in my head, a break from thinking about what I'm eating, or not eating I should say.

While she scowled at me I grabbed an asparagus and placed it in my mouth, giving the illusion I was eating.

I felt Poppy, my pug, sit down by my feet and while my parents both concentrated their attention elsewhere, I slipped my meat under the table to her. She devoured it like the good girl she was.

I continued to gnaw on my asparagus for the next few minutes, to avoid strange glances from my parents. Then I began cutting up the food on my plate, making it seem as though I was eating it.

"I'm worried," Julie announced. I stared up at my father, who looked up and sighed at his wife.

"About? Darling," my father responded pointedly. The word darling rolling off his tongue flippantly.

"Just look at her Peter, she's withering away." My mothers sour face softened in the slightest way, making my response delay by only a second.

I scoffed. "Oh, please, Julie. You wanted a perfectly skinny daughter, here I am. I don't get what your problem is. I eat as much as I can until I feel full. I don't skip meals, you see to that. I have a boyfriend, perfect grades and I don't look like a whale."

My mother stared at me, her jaw set in place, then turned her attention back to her food.

"I think I lost my appetite. If you'll excuse me." I made my way to the stairs as quickly as I was able without tripping over my own body parts, I took the stairs two at a time and practically sprinted to my room. I could feel it coming, I had to get out of that dining room. I shut my bedroom door as soon as I was in and slid down to the floor against it.

I felt my whole vision go fuzzy and dots began to appear.

This happened a lot. At least once a day. I think I may have anaemia or something.

And with that thought, I passed out.