Chapter Twenty-Seven

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Three weeks passed and true to her word, my mother hasn't let me out of the house once and I've had zero contact with the outside world. Sounds mildly dramatic, but it honestly could be worse. Although, Mom doesn't even let Carter have Lane over, he can only visit him outside of the house. It'd almost make me laugh at how hard she's trying to make me miserable if I hadn't fallen into the worst depression of my life.

I thought I had problems before, but as it turns out, it can always get worse. Who knew that being stuck in your room with nothing to do but sit with your thoughts could be so dreadful. With nothing to think about other than how my family rejected me and refuses to say more than a handful of words to me, how no one knows why I've disappeared from school and when I finally return to normal every day life I'm going to have to face that rejection all over again when I inevitably have to give an explanation. Over and over I imagine the expression I saw on my mother's face, unable to stop picturing everyone else acting the same.

If that weren't enough, I've been plagued by awful anxiety and overwhelming self-hatred every time I become even remotely conscious of my physical being. Being unable to bind, having to be alone with her day in and day out just like my mother wants is breaking me, but not how she wants it to. She thinks if she takes everything away I'll miraculously realize she's right, but all this has done is cement the fact that I can't accept the body I live in. I lay in bed under a mound of blankets daily, just trying to sleep and hide myself away, ashamed of who I am and what I've done to myself because of it.

Bundled up in sweat pants and an over sized sweater that I haven't changed out of in three days, I make my way down to the kitchen around three in the afternoon to get something to eat, glad to have the house to myself for a bit. Mom and dad are working and Carter's back at school so it's like a breath of fresh air to be able to leave my room without there being constant tension.

I mindlessly run a hand along my side while biting into my sandwich, wincing slightly at the dull throb the action causes. The bruises have been clearing up, but the broken ribs are honestly such a hassle, I'm impatient for them to heal so I can move around properly. Sleeping has probably been the most painful, it's difficult to get comfortable.

Finishing my food, I just sit and stare out the kitchen window, lost in thought as the silence makes the house suddenly feel a little too big for just me here all alone. I have to admit, I've begun feeling awfully lonely. I haven't had any contact with any of my friends and my mom won't let them come visit me and Carter gets in trouble if he is caught hanging out in my room even though he still sneaks over at night sometimes to check on me.

If someone asked me today if I regret coming out, if I regret everything that lead up to this very moment, I might say yes. But, in hind sight, I know it was bound to happen whether it's now or later. I'd have to face this at some point, and even if I wish I could have waited until I didn't live with my parents anymore, it's over and done with. All that's left to do now is survive and do as much damage control as humanly possible. Not that I think I can repair my relationship with my mom at this point. Every time she so much as glances my way she looks so hurt, like I've done something awful, and I hate that part of me still believes I have. I hate the part of me that still wants to be her perfect daughter and the faithful christian I was raised to be, but it's clear to me by now and probably to her at last as well--it's never going to happen.

My depressing downward spiral is interrupted by the shrill sound of the doorbell, making me jump and turn to look down the hall towards the front door. It's strange, we never get visitors this time of the day. I open the front door and only grow more confused when I see nobody there. I step out and look around the front yard and down the sidewalk, but there's no one in sight. I'm about to turn around and go back inside when I catch sight of something at my feet.

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