𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄

[𝟐] 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞

Bludder

My stomach pangs as the name rings in my head, but I shake it off.

Ray laughs. "If you want me to stay, I will. You don't gotta act schizophrenic."

"No, it's just I think I've been poisoned." I breathe dramatically. She laughs again before shoving me out of the way playfully.

"Shut up, Loser. I'll be back. Love you." She kisses my head again and holds her pinky to me and I do the same.

"I love you too, don't do anything stupid." I giggle as she flips me off, the door closing behind her.

And that was the last time I saw my sister...

Kidding.

I cross my arms as if disobeying myself when that too familiar of a feeling settles in my stomach and tries to make its way up my throat. It takes me a moment to try to get rid of the taste of regret, and when I finally do, I sigh with relief.

It's time to stop now, I lost my last ten pounds and I met my goal. Technically, I only lost nine, but if I try to get rid of that one last pound I might just get pulled farther into this sick obsession of mine.

I'm done.

I officially don't fit into half of the clothes in my closet. I fit into my jeans from eighth grade and a few from seventh grade. If I keep going, I'm afraid I'll somehow end up fitting into my clothes from fourth or maybe even third grade.

I take a seat on my bed and turn on my speaker. It spews music as I slide onto the floor, sitting in my pile of clothes I need to fold. Right when I go to pick up a shirt to fold, it hits me.

Nasty.

You ate that?

What would mom say if she saw what you just ate?

You're not going to fit into your jeans come summer.

But if fat is what you want... your on the right path to getting it.

I try my best to ignore it this time too but I can't. This time, I don't have to stick my fingers down my throat to make myself throw up.

Come on, Grace, don't do it.

I push open the bathroom door and make it to the toilet just in time for all that Chinese food to spew out of me. I'm done but my brain seems to tell me I shouldn't be. So, I stick my fingers down my throat and wait for the rest of what I ate to come out.

And even when it does, I keep my fingers in the back of my throat just to make sure all of it has left my system.

The thought of all that being in my stomach almost makes me throw up again but I shut the toilet lid before I get compelled to throw up my organs.

I cough, reaching for the roll of toilet paper to wipe my mouth as I take a seat on the toilet. After bawling my eyes out for a good thirty minutes, I clear my throat and rise from my seat on the toilet to wash my hands.

Un-fucking-believable.

___

I start thinking once I make it to my room, first about school, homework, stuff like that. Then I somehow end up thinking about Sam. He didn't care less when I was ever sick and for all he knew, I was throwing up at school because I am sick. So why did he suddenly care?

Maybe Sam is growing soft. Or rather soft for me? Yeah, right. Sam's hated me since forever, and I don't think I ever got to know why but at this point, I couldn't care less as to why he doesn't like me.