Problems

|| Chapter 23 ||

TW: disordered eating, mentions of past sexual abuse, depressed thoughts and actions, self-hatred, purging

I am...so sorry. This is a hard one.

X

The words "I'm sorry" didn't have a meaning to Alexander, not anymore. He'd heard them too many times. They carried nothing, held no sentiment.

"I'm sorry" didn't turn back the clock. It didn't fix his life, or rather, what was left of it. It didn't reverse what had happened, what would continue to happen.

It didn't wipe his memory, replace his brain with a clean slate and a have a happy life, Alex, here's the solution to all your problems!

"I'm sorry" didn't bring people back from the dead. He knew that all too well.

X

The only indicator of his spiraling mental health was the gauntness of his face, the way the shadows underneath his cheekbones seemed to multiply and spread with every skipped meal. Whenever John asked, Alex tacked it up to school.

"I guess I'm just not sleeping that well. Too many papers, you know how Adams loves those things."

"No time to eat between classes, I have Creative Writing right after History on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and then it's Poli-Science, plus you know how Professor Franklin loves to drone on and on. "

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Yeah, it's under control."

He'd perfected smiling and nodding, while on the inside he was withering. It was a mask, piled on makeup and illusions, like glamour from a fantasy novel.

Help me, he screamed. Help me.

On the outside, he beamed.

X

Alex had known it was bad when the stuttering in his chest started.

It would appear at seemingly random points-standing up after Creative Writing, walking across the courtyard, waiting in line at the cafe. He knew what it meant.

His heart couldn't take what he was putting his body through. '

If that wasn't a big enough warning sign, black spots and dizziness frequented his vision, tilting the world 90 degrees or more, leaving him swaying and nauseous, light enough to blow over if you breathed too hard. Bruises scattered across his skin, left from bumping into desks or other students.

I'm falling apart.

Instead, he forced himself together, like glue holding a cracked plate.

More organization, better classwork, distraction, distraction, distraction.

Talk less, smile more. Don't let them know what's going on behind the scenes, what happens when the curtain falls after the performance.

X

There were the breakdowns, of course.

The binges.

The 3 am, what-are-you-doing, oh-fuck-I-screwed-up-again mistakes.

It wasn't exactly a good thing that there was a McDonalds right down the street from his college.

"Can I have a Quarter Pounder, a large fry, a strawberry shake, and an apple pie please?" Alex ordered calmly. He'd been fasting for three days. His heart was thudding rapidly in short bursts, and he was pretty sure that he was about thisclose to going into cardiac arrest.