TW for sa, forced devil's tango, and eating disorder
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sex with zach quickly became a bi-daily thing, though i didn't have a choice in the matter anyway. i was often too sore or too tired to participate much in drama or choir, and sitting down and riding in cars turned into my worst nightmares. i couldn't help but complain about the pain in hopes that zach would take pity on me, but he never really did.
"stop whining," he grumbled as he stopped at a red light. "you're giving me a headache."
i lowered my head. "it's your fault."
"excuse me?"
"...nothing," i mumbled, wincing at the pain in my back as the car started moving again.
zach scoffed. "yeah, that's what i thought, fatass."
that was another thing that somehow became a thing. the more often we were intimate with each other, the more often he called me fat. and the more he called me fat, the more i started to believe him.
at first, i didn't believe him at all. i knew i wasn't fat. i had a flat stomach, a sharp jawline, thin legs and arms, and skinny fingers. it was so obvious that i wasn't fat at all. but as he continuously hurled insults at me, the way i saw myself changed. a lot.
i couldn't stand looking in the mirror or seeing my reflection, and i couldn't muster up a big enough appetite to eat more than once a day, or even at all. and when i did, i usually threw it up not too long after. i couldn't stop myself from stepping onto the scale whenever i went into the bathroom, and i was disgusted by the fact that i could never seem to lose enough weight. i always looked fat, even though i was never in the triple-digits like i was supposed to be.
there was a point that ms. gold took me to the hospital because i was just barely 80 pounds, which was apparently about 60% of the weight i was supposed to weigh. i didn't believe it. i couldn't. but i wasn't allowed to leave until i was back up to at least 100 pounds.
it was fucking devastating, but i still haven't been 100 pounds since.