Living With Boys

Chapter Ten: Hallucinated

I understand that I made poor choices, but I personally think that targeting my body was the stupid and most immature route to turn on. I was probably the most confident person you could ever meet when it came to my body. I was proud of what I had. I had curves, and no thigh gap. Until that one time, after that, I got abs within a month, and now that thigh gap that wasn't there, is present.

The fact that some people can just hate you so much; enough to make you hate yourself and everything you once admired, is scary. The ones you thought you could trust just stabbing you in the back like you meant nothing the whole time.

How could they have done that to me? Just make me feel so worthless, make me feel so disgusted by myself and do things just so I appeared different? Were they jealous that I was happy? Or did they just enjoy tormenting?

My cries grow heavier, and I don't realize how heavy until I start choking because I've been crying without any breaths.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and head back into the room. I start looking through the boxes for what I'm looking for, and it starts agitating me because none of my parents even bothered to be kind enough to label any of them.

I still don't understand how my father could turn on me like that. I thought we had a good, strong bond, and to think that he just agreed with my mother to send me off to some place I don't even know makes me question how loved I am from the beginning. I smack the side of my head to clear that thought.

Four boxes later and I find everything that contained my safes. I find the one where I held personal things that nobody knows about, and punch in the code. It unlocks and I grab out two of my bottles, popping open the lid and throwing a couple of the tabs in my mouth. I grab the third bottle, and take a caplet out for when I go to bed.

"What are you doing?"

I immediately throw the pill bottles back into my safe, slamming it shut, causing it to fall onto the ground on the other side of the bed, and hiding the tablet in my hand behind my arm. I spin myself around to see Landon.

I remember what he said earlier before dinner, and after. He doesn't want to be friends. I keep reminding myself. I stare at him, my lip in between my teeth to prevent me from saying anything bad, and I hide my face by my hair so he can't see the vulnerable state I'm currently in. "Nothing."

"Then what are you hiding behind your back?" He presses, arms crossed in a taunting manner.

I bulk up to meet his stance. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing, but hey, curiosity killed the cat."

"The cat may as well die, then." I hiss, and I begin to panic once my hands begin twitching; something that I always do when I'm nervous. Closed fists, keep them near the bed. Shove your hands in your pants if you need to, but don't you dare open your fists.

I gulp as the twitch starts increasing, and I squeeze my hands closed so tight, my nails will soon start drawing out blood. I swear, if Landon could see me, I'd more than likely look very constipated.

My face heats up as Landon's gaze intensifies, and he gives me a full smirk.

He knows I'm going to crack soon.

"The cat is enjoying himself right now." He says, and takes a seat at the desk. I avoid his eyes and stumble to turn around so he doesn't see what's in my hands. "I wonder what Blue's hiding behind her back."

"Stop calling me Blue," I interrupt, "I'm not a dog."

"No, you're right," he agrees, "But dogs hover when they know they've done something wrong."