Hunger

t w e n t y - f o u r

I get inside the house, it was almost eight at night. I was sweating from all the walking, and tired. I was so weak it was hard to think. I go inside the kitchen and grab a bottle of water, feeling slightly better, but I knew if I wanted the headache to go away, and the numbness in my hands and fingers, I needed to eat, real food.

I grab an apple and go up the stairs, staring at it, like it was going to eat me instead. My room was empty, thankfully, so I throw my bag aside and lay in my bed. Contemplating eating what I was holding between my fingers.

I sigh, seeing my reflection in the mirror. My eyes and nose were red from all the crying, and my skin was extremely pale. I put the apple on my bed and go to the bathroom wanting to shower again. I see the box of pads under the bathroom sink, when I went to grab a new soap, and realized I hadn't gotten my period in a long time. I was supposed to get it last week, I remember looking at the app on my phone.

I sigh, knowing I wasn't pregnant, I literally started having sex a few days ago, and I'm late already, I'm not naive. I should be proud, losing your period meant you were sick enough, but I wasn't. I wasn't even underweight. I will probably get it soon, it's just the stress from the regionals. I'm not that sick.

I get out of the shower and rap my body around my towel. He was there when I opened the bathroom door, and I sigh.

"Get out of my bed!" I say entering my walking closet since I couldn't even dress in my own room anymore. I really need some privacy.

"How did you get here?" He asks crossing his arm. "And don't say Nathaniel because I already talked to him."

"Walking." I shout from the closet.

I get out and he was staring at me angry. What did I do now? It's not like I ran or workout. Everyone walks home occasionally.

"He called." He murmurs, frowning. "When were you planning on telling us he kicked you off the team?"

So, he did call, but how does he know that? He was supposed to call mom, not him.

"Christopher, now is really not a good time." I whisper grabbing the apple and getting in bed. "I want to be alone."

He comes near me, and I stare at the floor not wanting to face him. It felt so weird seeing his face after remembering bits of memories from that night.

"I want to be alone!" I shout closing my eyes.

"He knew you were sick." He says angry. "And he took so long to call."

I open my eyes and frown, is he deaf? What part of I want to be alone he doesn't get. I stand up and grab his arm, trying to get him out of my room.

"Katherine." He whispers hugging me.

I freeze, not hugging him back. Why is he acting this way? So nice, like he cares. "Stop." I whisper.

"Why won't you talk to me?" He asks desperately, hugging me tighter. "I only want you to get better, to help you and you keep pushing me away!" He says pulling away slowly, both of his hands on my shoulders.

I keep staring at the floor, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"You can't even look at me in the face when I talk to you." He sighs, letting go off me.

I sigh, taking a step back, I wanted to tell him the reason why I couldn't look at him in the face, but I couldn't.

"He didn't know, okay." I whisper sitting on my bed. "He suspected something, but he didn't know exactly."

"So?" He says resting his body against my desk. "He should have call earlier."

"I begged him to not do it." I say, hating talking about this, knowing that something was wrong. "Is not his fault, it's mine." I murmur, feeling the urge to cry again.

He doesn't say anything, and I look at him from the corner of my eyes. He was staring at me, both his hands grabbing the border of my desk, making his arm flex.

"Can you leave?" I ask biting my tongue to avoid crying.

He says nothing, and starts going to the door, but when he was out the door he stops. "It's not your fault that you're sick." He whispers shrugging. "You just need to admit it, so we can help you."

"Does my mom even care?" I ask, holding back my tears. "Did she say anything about it?"

He says nothing, and I nod, knowing the answer.

He leaves, and I start crying again, holding the apple in my hand. I stare at it, wondering why it was so hard to just eat it? I know that if I eat it I won't gain ten pounds, but it felt like it. If I ate the apple would I no longer be sick? Thin? Eating the food will make me weak, and I don't want to be weak. I want to be strong, pretty, perfect.