Five in the morning. I wish I could have cut just a little deeper. Maybe into an artery or a blood vessel. Something that would make Mom find me in a puddle of my own blood, only twelve pounds lighter than when I arrived and not thirteen. But I guess I gotta live another day in this awful life.
I go for the purple sports bra, but I grab a black tank top to go over it, a big jacket, and then black leggings. Mom isn't awake yet. Great. I'll be forced to "drink" an Ensure. I creep to the bathroom and pull away the gauze. They're not open, and they lace my first cut. It's good enough to put a concealer on them. I grab the liquid concealer out of my bag, but it doesn't work. I grab the powder. It works better.
I brush my hair, pull it into a bun and do my makeup. I don't like wearing makeup during dance practice. I get all sweaty and if I forget to wear the waterproof stuff, then I'm constantly paranoid that the mascara is dripping while I dance. You look so ugly and disgusting without makeup, Lilliana.
"Lilly! Come on! Take your medicine and let's go! We're taking Pressley today!" Mom shouts from the kitchen.
I groan tiredly and take my medicine reluctantly. You should just take one too many pills today, Lilliana. Collapse during tap and then die. I wanna cut myself so bad. But I've decided that cutting myself is strictly for the shower so the evidence will be washed away. I pull out some electrolytes that I've had hidden in my dresser last night to lace my water with so I don't seem tired.
I grab my black sneakers and a butter pecan Ensure. Yuck. I don't have a sweet tooth, but it just gives me more motivation to not drink it. I have to remember: only 200 calories for today. Elliana and Ms. Yolanda join me in the elevator with Mom and I. I pretend to chug my Ensure, pretending to swallow to throw Elliana off the scent.
I find Press in the lobby and lead her to Mom's car. I throw away the Ensure in the trash can along the way. I make sure to not toss it so that it doesn't make a loud sloshing sound. Maybe if I do everything right, I'll throw Elliana off of the trail.
"So what's your schedule?" Pressley asks as we buckle into the seat.
"Tap, jumps and turns, ballet, lyrical, contemporary, and hip hop. I got my two favorite classes today!" I squeal and we giggle.
"I got the opposite schedule. Oof," Pressley pouts and puts in earbuds to listen to music.
You don't deserve to have your two favorite classes in one day, Lilliana. You're ugly and disgusting. I pull my sweatshirt over my arm, scared that despite the concealer and the setting powder and spray that I put on, the scars will show. I'm going to have to cut less deep so I don't get a scar. The cuts make you uglier and a more disgusting whore like you already are, Lilliana.
I listen to my music as well in the car ride, listening to the soft angelic voice of Melanie Martinez singing basically about the devil. I love it. Unfortunately, I have to shut off the music once we see the white brick studio come into the horizon. I reluctantly get out of the car with my dance bag and I see that Elliana and Sarah are already here.
I stretch quickly before going to Studio C for tap with Sarah and Hannah, taught by Ms. Gianna. I don't take off my sweatshirt, too afraid of the cuts being seen by Sarah and Hannah. Before we can start, Ms. Abby struts in with a small girl who I recognize from the auditions.
"Ladies, this is Kamryn. She is going to be joining you guys for the privates. You may recognize her from the auditions. She was in town, and is going to spend the day with you," Ms. Abby announces before promptly leaving Studio C.
She seems happy and chipper. I think she's around seven or eight. All seven and eight-year-olds don't understand the crushing disappointments of life. I mean, I did. I learned when I was seven.
She's good at tap, but she has to learn a lot of stuff really quickly to keep up for us. She's advanced, but not as advanced. Still, she's really impressive and she knows a lot for her age. She's bubbly and fun like a seven or eight-year-old. Maybe she'll be part of the elite team.
Kamryn's better than you were at tap when you were seven, Lilliana. She should've been part of the team instead of you, Lilliana. I hate that the urges make me seem like a jealous brat. I love it when somebody is better than me. It pushes me. But the urges also push me to a darker place when I'm not as good as someone. You're such a jealous brat for thinking that you were a good dancer, Lilliana.
After tap is school, and during this time, we get to know Kamryn. She's seven and from Phoenix. She's here for a photoshoot tomorrow with her friend who's a child model. Believable enough. She seems like such a nice and sweet girl. I wish that she wasn't just in town for the day.
Then we have jumps and turns. I'm shakier today, not winning many of the rounds. Kamryn does an excellent toe touch. Her toe touch is much better than yours, Lilliana. You can barely reach it, while she can do a great one. Do better, Lilliana. I do manage to win the lamest round: the pirouettes.
Next is ballet. Finally. I think I'll be happy after my favorite class, but then Ms. Gianna tells me to take off my sweatshirt and put on my pointe shoes. Everybody is watching me as I tug off the sweatshirt. I look at my wrist. No cuts. The makeup is holding up.
Ballet is the only thing you're mildly okay at, Lilliana. You're garbage at everything else, though. I don't get it. When I'm bad, the urges yell at me. When I'm good, the urges yell at me. I must be a really bad person then. I don't deserve to live. The ballet lesson goes fine. Ms. Abby keeps yelling at me to suck in my stomach, though. Your stomach is so fat, Lilliana. You're so disgusting.
***elliana***
I feel so bad for Lilly. She's obviously cold and is forced to take off her sweatshirt. But then I see her tank top is hanging a bit from her body. The tanktop seems like it should shrink in half to be skin tight. I look at Sarah and she nods.
"Lilly! Suck in your stomach!" Ms. Abby yells, pinching it during our barre portion of our ballet class.
How much more flat could it get? Lilly manages to suck it in, but I can almost see her ribs through her tank top and she looks like she's about to cry. I'm genuinely worried.
***lilly***
I'm so fat and disgusting. Tears brim my eyes, but I can't cry or else Ms. Abby will yell at me so much just for reminding me that I'm fat. You just can't handle the truth, Lilliana. It's so embarrassing that you just can't handle that you're fat, and a slut, and worthless, and ugly, and a spoiled brat. I blink the tears back and collect myself before I raise my leg in the air for a skill that I didn't hear the name of.
After that near-disaster, we have another hour of school. Kamryn leaves the studio to go out to lunch with her mom while we're stuck here in the studio doing school. Or more, the other girls get into antics while I do my schoolwork because I'm feeling antisocial.
Lunch isn't much better. Mom packed me a sandwich. Just looking at it, I get a lot of anxiety. Don't eat the sandwich, Lilliana. It isn't safe and it will make you even more fat. It will make you even more disgusted. And ugly. I leave it alone and eat the ten baby carrots. 40 calories. It's a much safer option.
My stomach normally isn't in pain anymore. I've gotten used to hunger, stomach pains, and stomach cramps, but my stomach is in a little more pain. Probably because the carrots are making them want more. I almost reach for the chocolate square, despite not being allowed sweets before I stop myself. You don't deserve anything else, Lilliana. You are such a spoiled fucking brat.
Then we have lyrical and contemporary, combined into a two-hour class because they are virtually the same dance style. It's not my favorite style, but we all have to work really hard for this one because Ms. Abby does most of her dances in this style.
I looked up the real difference between lyrical and contemporary. You should've known this a long time ago, Lilliana. You're so dumb. Lyrical is more able to be interpreted by the dancer and their soul is able to be added to the piece. But I feel like that also allows contemporary.
I don't really care. All I know is that my timing is off and my spacing is not the best, and I'm getting yelled at it. I keep the numb expression on my face, but I'm screaming inside. You should be used to this, Lilliana. You're such a baby. I'm tired by the end of it. At least the other group got to leave halfway for hip hop. But I have one more school hour so I can regain my energy.
The electrolytes really help. But it's 50 calories for the amount I use per bottle. Considering that it will help mask my eating disorder, it's a small price to pay. You're so disgusting using electrolytes, Lilliana. You're wasting a bunch of your calories just to mask. Who cares if you're starving? No one. Elliana cares. I think.
I save just enough for after hip hop, one of the most intense dances. The coordination, the fast movements, the confidence boost, it's my second favorite style. Even when the urges are beating me down, I can get a bit of confidence and lose myself in the dance. That goes with any dance. Sometimes, it's my only escape.
I'm smiling by the end of it. Genuinely smiling. For once, I'm happy. I haven't felt this in a while. I know it's not going to be long until I'm back to my sad state. Like right after. You don't deserve to be happy or to smile, Lilliana. Not until you're skinny and beautiful.
"Is there jazz today?" Kamryn asks me when we're done and packing up, and I shake my head.
"We're gonna have jazz tomorrow. Sorry," I say, trying to keep my tone light but not condescending, like she's an equal and not three years younger.
"Aww man. That's my favorite style. What's yours?" she asks me.
"Ballet and hip hop," I answer and she gives me a nod and keeps packing.
I wave goodbye to everyone and I get back in the car with Pressley.
"Why would Ms. Abby let a kid from the auditions who was in town just strut her way into a private?" Pressley asks me and I shrug.
"Maybe she's looking for another new member? Or maybe she just thought it would be cool? The thing with Ms. Abby's mind is that it's unpredictable. You don't know what the heck is going on," I explain and we chuckle.
The rest of the car ride is silent, occasionally taking a photo or laughing at a dumb TikTok. I refrain from going on Instagram or TikTok, afraid of the comments I may see on there. People can be pretty ruthless.
When we get home, I do a bunch more schoolwork, wanting to get in an extra lesson of science. Maybe I'll finish up the science curriculum early. I still have straight As, but they're in the 95s, 94s. You're so dumb. You should be in the 98s. Do better, Lilliana.
I do two more days of science, since I have nothing to do. I find it hard to concentrate, my body aching with hunger for the first time in days, but I get it done. After that, it's dinner. Another chicken breast. Half of it is 116 calories. 6 calories over. I begin to panic. I can't figure out how to cut out 6 calories. These extra six calories are going to ruin you, Lilliana. You're such a fat slut.
I'm nearly in tears as I stomach the chicken breast, but I know it will be coming up soon. No doubt about it. Mom doesn't notice, she's too busy talking to Dad and Caden. As I'm leaving, she hands her phone to me and Caden's on the line.
"Hey, Lilly. How was the competition?" Caden asks on the line.
"Didn't win," I bluntly reply and he sighs.
"Well, you'll do better this week. I miss you and I hope you're doing okay too. Dad does too, but he's doing something for work. He told me to say that."
"Thanks. I'm doing fine. Well, I have to get ready for a little get-together. I love you and tell Dad I love him too," I tell him.
"Love you too. Bye," he says on the other line and then it goes dead.
I feel so bad for not telling him the truth. You did a good thing, Lilliana. Caden can't know. I want to cut so bad, a physical tingle running through my body now. But I have to get to the social thingy.
I want to pick a simple sweatshirt and sweatpants or not go all together. I choose a gray plaid pinafore dress and a white cropped sweater. I pick black combat boots. My makeup is still intact, but I cover up my scars a little more. I'm so nervous that it will be seen. I redo my ponytail, making it higher.
I go to the bathroom. It's now or never. Mom is on the phone. Maybe she won't notice. I kneel and face the toilet bowl. Sticking my fingers down my throat, it burns as dinner comes up. Good girl, Lilliana. Good good girl. I can't cry. I stop throwing up once bile comes up and I look at myself in the mirror.
Fat. Ugly. Worthless. Slut. These aren't the intrusive thoughts or urges, they're my own thoughts. I grab my razor from my phone but I remember I have to leave. I'll do it later. I suck in my stomach and put the razor back in the case.
"Mom, I'm going," I whisper because she's on the phone.
She gives me a thumbs up and I smile to myself. She didn't hear me throw up. Victory! I'm becoming so pretty. But not pretty enough. Thankfully, the pinafore dress goes down to my knees. And my back is covered. We're good to go.
Gia and Elliana are at the elevator again. They both have their hair down, Ellie's curled slightly. Elliana's wearing an off-the-shoulder frill top with a purple floral skirt, paired with tan flats. GiaNina, again wearing something casual, is wearing a simple pink t-shirt and distressed black jeans, accompanied with black flared heel boots.
You don't look good in something casual, Lilliana. You don't look good in anything because your stomach is too big and your hips are too wide. Your thighs are too big and your feet are fat. You're so ugly and disgusting, Lilliana. I nearly run back to my apartment, too insecure and afraid. My eyes dart from the hallway to the elevator.
"Lilly, what's going on? Are you sick?" Elliana asks me and I freeze.
"No, I'm fine," I hastily reply as the elevator door opens.
***elliana***
"Lilly-" I whine, GiaNina and I both exchange glances, knowing she isn't okay.
"I'm fine, okay!" Lilly shouts as she enters the elevators, smoothing out her pinafore dress.
Lilly has never yelled at me before. She's normally sweet and kind. She's never snapped unless for the sake of the show. I quickly shut up in fear and Gia and I follow her into the elevator. Why would Lilly do that? She must want to go back to her apartment and not be seen. She must be so insecure about the way she looks, even though everything is loose and baggy.
***lilly***
I know I've just blown my cover. Shit. She's gonna figure it out, Lilliana. She's gonna find out that you're cutting and starving. But you can't stop. It's helping. The urges are right. I almost have a panic attack, fear and terror sending chills through my bones. But the elevator door opens. The beep sounds grounds me and I quickly step out to observe the scene.
I first take notice of what everyone is wearing. Sarah, while on the IPad, is taking photos with the other girls, so I can see her full outfit. She's wearing a blue colorblock floral print shirt, indigo dark wash jeans, and white chunky heels, her hair in wavy curls.
Hannah's wearing a red smocked yoke top with white flowers, gray shorts, and red chunky heels with a strap around her ankle, her hair straight with a gray barrette in it. Pressley is wearing a tie waist cardigan as a shirt, a black and white striped pencil skirt, and caged two-inch silver heels, her hair also in curls.
I look so bad compared to them. You're so ugly and short compared to them, Lilliana.
You shouldn't even have been invited. I'm just not gonna talk to anybody. We're watching a movie, so nobody will be talking anyway.
"I brought popcorn!" Gia reveals, handing all of us a bag of Skinny Pop.
I stare at the bag. 39 calories. I have enough calories, but I don't deserve it. I won't eat it. I hold the bag in my hands and find a seat near a big projector screen setup next to Elliana, and of course, Gia sits right next to her. Hannah and Pressley figure out how to work the projector.
We eventually settle on the movie Annie. The 1982 version, not the new movie. Of course, being the people we are, we sing along to all of the songs. I try to have fun and enjoy it, but I'm too sad and just emotionally gone to enjoy anything right now.
I don't dare open the popcorn bag. You don't deserve the popcorn, Lilliana. You're such a fat slut. No more popcorn. I start to feel sick to my stomach, but I manage to stay for the whole movie. I just want to go to sleep. Maybe forever.
When the whole movie is over, I race down to my apartment, only staying to say goodbye and take a couple of pics for my stories. Mom is still watching television, probably a reality television show.
"Go take a shower, Lilly, and then straight to bed with you," she orders me.
"Ok," I say back, not intending to do anything different.
Time for my rituals. I weigh myself first. 67.6 pounds. Just 67.6 pounds to my goal of 60 pounds. You're still so fat, Lilliana. You have to lose more weight. That's what I'm trying to do! I'm not perfect, but this will fix it.
I grab my razor and go into the shower. I should do my other wrist now. One for being fat. One for being a horrible dancer. One for being ugly. One for throwing up and eating too much. I slide down the bathroom tile into the fetal position, gripping my wrist, whimpering a bit in pain. I cut myself two more times for the heck of it.
I finish taking my shower and change into some camo sweatpants and a long-sleeved white shirt. I clean up the cuts, brush my teeth, and count my calories, writing them into my journal. 148 calories. I stayed under the limit. Tomorrow is another fasting day. They're turning into my favorite days.
I wish I could stop, but I'm too far into this. This wasn't my decision, but it's my fault. This is an addiction. I hate it, but I can't live without it. Maybe I shouldn't be alive. I cry myself to sleep again. I hate my life. Why can't I just get a heart attack or a stroke and die? Then everybody would be happy.
~~~~~