Newt Imagines {rewrites coming soon}

{Newt} Empty

Warning: This imagine contains mentions of eating disorders and self harm. Please be advised. I am also not trying to romanticize these issues in any way, I am simply trying to bring attention to issues I have struggled with before and want to talk about.

I look at myself in the mirror, turning around and looking at myself up and down. I sucked in my stomach and looked at myself again, then puffing it back out again. I huffed in defeat and slipped on a large shirt to hide the lump my stomach seemed to make.

I slumped out of my room in defeat and made my way down to the dining hall for breakfast. I got in line and put on the fake smile that seemed to plaster itself on my face every day. I took the food Frypan handed me and walked over to the table, sitting in between Newt and Chuck. I set my food in front of me and looked at it before putting my hands in my lap. Finally, the urge to eat was overwhelming and I took a bite of my sandwich, soon after eating half of it as well as an apple. As I sat there, the voice screamed in my head.

Why did you eat that?
It'll only make you fatter.
You're so ugly.
You need to be thinner.

I pushed my plate away and stood up.
"Where are you going?" Newt said, looking up at me.
"I need to go to the bathroom." I hurriedly made up the excuse-which wasn't a total lie-and made my way to the bathroom. I closed the door and locked it, then leaned over the toilet bowl. I shoved two fingers down my throat, forcing myself to vomit up the breakfast I had eaten. I laid in a ball on the bathroom floor, crying silently as I thought of how I was destroying myself inside. I couldn't go on like this, but I couldn't stop.

I quickly cleaned myself up and went outside, making my way back to the breakfast table. I pushed my food further away from me as I listened to my friends talk, drowning out most of them. I put on the fake smiles and tell everyone I'm fine when what I really want is for someone to ask me if I really am fine. Well, one person. Newt. He's the one I want to care the most. But I'm just a stupid, ugly, anorexic teenage girl with no memories. I'm not a princess in a fairytale.

I stand up and get to work for the day. I make my way to the medjack hut and step inside, searching through the cabinets. I take out the bottle of antidepressants that showed up a few month ago, when I started having the problems. I took two, swallowing them without any water. My body began to ache as they set in, feeling the effects of not eating before taking them. Oh well.

The morning went past. Time for another mirror check. I looked at myself again and all I see is ugly. The voice taunts me again.
Don't eat.
Don't eat.
Don't eat.
It'll be better that way.
Don't eat.
Don't eat.
Be empty.
I listen to the voice. I know I shouldn't listen to the voice but I continue to listen to the voice. It taunts me.

Skip lunch.
They won't notice you're gone.
They don't care.
He doesn't care.
Instead I go to lunch but don't grab any food. I sit down at my usual spot, laughing my fake laugh as always. Nobody even notices. Nobody realizes. Nobody cares. If they cared they would see it. They. Don't. Care.

I hurriedly make my way back to the hut and take more pills. I work like usual, take more pills, then dinner time comes. Except this time, I don't go. I grab my pocket knife from the table and walk to the Deadheads. I find the tree I usually go to and sit, my back against the rough bark. I lift up the sleeve of my shirt and stare at my once bare wrists. They are now littered with scars and scratches and burns from all the times I've tried and failed. But this time, I'm determined to make it work. I slowly open the knife, then bring the blade to my skin.

1 cut.
Worthless.
2 cuts.
Ugly.
3 cuts
Weak
4 cuts
Helpless
5 cuts
Loveless

I feel the blood trickle down my skin and drop onto the grass. 5 deep cuts run across my arm, the blood pouring out like deep red waterfalls. My vision begins to blur and I hear muffled screams, but I can't hear the voice. A body comes into view, and I see it's Newt's, his face scrunched up in worry. He's saying something, but I can't hear. Then, I slip away.