Clove.
The minute I swing my front door open, revealing my quiet-as-ever home. I kick off my shoes and sprint as fast as I can up the stairs to my bedroom. Although I know my parents won't check up on me - they prefer to be separate from my personal life - I lock my door behind me for safe measures.
Knowing Pia could be here at any minute, I move quickly. I throw open my bathroom door, getting down to my knees too quickly that I wince in pain as I can feel where a bruise will be forming sooner or later from my harsh fall.
The longer I take, the more I feel the fat infecting each and every inch of my body. Tying my dyed-red hair up with one single movement, I grip the sides of my toilet bowl.
You can do it, Clove.
It's only making you prettier.
Just imagine how good you'll look in that new dress you bought.
Taking a deep breath and squeezing my eyes shut, I take my finger and shove it towards the back of my throat.
I can still perfectly remember the first time I made myself throw up. I was at a slumber party in the seventh grade and all of us girls had just gone in the hot tub together. My eyes wandered around at all my friends' bodies; all slender without a single inch of fat on them. I could just feel all their eyes on me as well, my ass barely fitting in my bikini bottoms.
After we stuffed our faces with junk foods as we watched cheesy romantic comedies, I excused myself to the bathroom. I closed my eyes and imagined myself being all skinny along with my friends and shoved my finger towards the back of my throat as I have read about in health class.
Sure, we were taught about how bad anorexia was, but we barely covered bulimia and other forms of eating disorders. I doubt they're as unhealthy as anorexia. I'm not depriving my body of food, I'm merely getting rid of it before it can make a permanent home in my thighs.
The familiar feeling of my gag reflex brings tears to my eyes. No matter how many times I've done it, the tears always come.
Because of experience, it doesn't take long for me to reach my gagging limit. I heave and all the contents of today's binging empties into my porcelain toilet. Satisfaction swells through my body as I continue to extract all those gross fatty foods I can't stop myself from eating.
As soon as I finish, I get off of my knees and flush the evidence down. Not a single soul knows about my little secret; not my parents; not Pia; no one. And I definitely intend on keeping it that way. If someone found out, they'd only try to get me help. They don't understand how selfish that'd be of them. They're blessed with this thin body, and I have to work for mine.
I'm sure I'll stop at some point, perhaps once I reach attractiveness, but until then, this secrets going with me to the grave.
Doing my little routine, I brush my teeth twice, wash my face, reapply my make-up that had been smudged from my teary-eyes.
The bathroom door swings shut behind me as I turn on my stereo, causing bass to vibrate the floor beneath my feet. No matter how loud I play my music, I know my parents won't bother coming up and asking me to turn it down.
That would mean them actually trying for once and that's just out of the question.
Gently, I start to play with my nose ring as I gaze into my closet, searching for the new dress I just bought a few nights ago. My eyes keep wandering back to my baggy sweatpants and sweatshirt; so easy to hide behind the fabric of those; so easy to hide the fat.
Trying my hardest to shake those thoughts from my mind, I reach in and grab the little black dress Pia had talked me into buying. It's a bit daring; with the back cut out, exposing a whole lot of skin. I can already picture fat rolls just spilling out.
Hearing a loud knock on the front door - a knock hard enough to be heard over my loud music - I know Pia's here. Letting out a sigh, I open my window.
"Come on in!" I shout down at her, she looks a bit of a mess.
After she disappeared mysteriously during lunch, I didn't see her for the rest of the school day. That's not strange for Pia; she's always off doing something. I never quite know what she's up to. I'm sure it's nothing good, but I wouldn't dare try and tell her to stop whatever it is she's doing. She doesn't take advice very well.
I shuffle across my carpeting to unlock the door, swinging it open for Pia to march on in.
Taking a seat in front of my vanity, I try not to stare at my reflection for too long. I brush my boldly colored red hair out of my face as I rumble through my make up. I've watched probably a million videos on how to make yourself look skinnier with make up. I'm a pro now.
"Craig's room is open again," Pia announces quietly as soon as she enters my room.
Her eyes are far off as she catches my eyes through the mirror on top of my vanity. It's as if she's not even here.
My stomach drops as her words process in my mind. Fantastic. I close my eyes and let out a loud groan before getting to my feet once more.
Shutting my bedroom door behind me, I quietly tip-toe down the hallway towards the bedroom we keep boarded up majority of the times. Of course there are rare days like today when Mom gets bad...
I peer around the corner, into what used to be Craig's room, still full of all his stuff. Even his bed is left unmade, just as it had been four years ago, when he killed himself.
"Mom, c'mon," I sigh and stand in the doorway, placing my hands on my hips.
Mom's seated on his floor, being sure not to move a single thing out of place. She wants to keep it exactly how "Craigy liked it". She stares up on his walls, looking at the different polaroid's he has tacked up of him and his friends.
She doesn't even acknowledge me, it's as if I'm not even here. No surprise there...
I force myself into my older brother's old room, fighting past the goosebumps I get whenever I step in here. I squat down, directly in front of my mom, that way she can't pretend I'm not here.
"Mom, why don't you go lie down until dad gets home?" I speak softly, using a much gentler tone than I usually do.
Our family therapist said when mom has these 'breakdowns' the best thing I can do is to be patient with her. Patience has never been one of my strong points.
She doesn't say a word when I snake my arm around her waist and pull her to her feet. Not a single sound leaves her lips as I escort her to her bedroom, lying her down and shutting the door behind me. If she had said something, I would have been more surprised.
After Craig shot himself about four years ago, our entire family crumbled apart. We used to be this ideal family; one that took family vacations and played board games on Sunday afternoons after church.
Now dad works days on end at the local convenience store after mom and him lost their jobs. He's barely making enough money to put food on the table and there's no way mom could hold a job.
As I make my way back to my room, I pause in front of Craig's open door. His smiling face can be seen from the pictures all over, with his friends, his girlfriend; so happy. Yet, he went and messed up everything, leaving me behind to deal with it all.
Craig was the only one that got worried when I started losing all that weight. Sure, at the time it scared me shitless, the possibility that he could figure out my secret and ruin all my hardwork by telling someone. But looking back, it made me feel better... Knowing that someone actually gives a shit about you makes you think twice about things.
I slam his door shut, gritting my teeth tightly with anger. My feet move quickly across the floor and back into my bedroom, where Pia's laying down on my bed, motionless.
"Sorry about that..." I mumble, taking a seat in front of my mirror once more.
"What would be life without a fucked up family?" Pia shrugs, tapping her fingertips against my mattress in beat with the music playing from my speakers.
A sad smile appears on my face as I glance towards my best friend. She couldn't be more right. I could mope around and be pissed at Craig and my parents for screwing up a perfectly normal life we had before, or I can just embrace the fact that our family will be forever screwed up.
I suppose that's easier said than done...
* * * *
After I finish my make-up, using all the powders and bronzers I need in order to make my cheekbones look prominent and my chin slimmer, I stuff myself into my black cut-out dress. Pia's made herself at home, using anything of mine that she wishes.
She looks absolutely amazing in a pair of high-waisted studded, leather shorts and a plain black crop top, with her signature leather jacket over it. Her long, skinny legs are clad in shredded black tights. She looks perfect with no effort whatsoever.
"Aw, Clove, you look ravishing," Pia smiles, draping her arms around my neck. I can smell the alcohol already on her breath, mixed with a lasting smell of smoke as well. It's become her usual scent.
I roll my eyes, not believing a word she says. Of course she has to say that, because she's the only reason I'm in this dress. Every time I tried to take it off, she yelled at me. Plus, she's like a sister to me, of course she's going to feed me lies, that's what friends do. I pretend not to notice the fact that she's always disappearing and she pretends I'm pretty.
As I wriggle free from Pia's affectionate hug, she starts to sway around my room to the synth beat coming from my speakers, vibrating through the soles of my heels. She closes her eyes and runs his fingers slowly through her hair.
Exactly how far gone is she?
Putting all my necessities in my purse, I frown. I'm going to have to keep an eye on her all night, but I have to do it without her noticing. She gets beyond pissed whenever any of us try to look after her. When she's high like this, you never know what to expect from her.
"When are Trax and the others picking us up?" I ask her, interrupting her little recital in the middle of my room.
"They're not. They're getting things together with Jake. I'm driving," She explains, taking the bottle of liquor out of her jacket like a magician.
"To hell if you are," I snort, looking at her with amusement.
She just throws her head back with laughter, letting her dirty blonde hair shake out in the air. Good god, what fun she's going to be tonight. What's the point? I could just stay home and bury myself beneath my blankets, away from all the eyes on my body. She wouldn't even know.
Yeah, right. I'd be dead if I kept Pia from a party. That's her paradise; her heaven. And there's no way in hell that I'm letting her drive. I don't need another person being torn from my life.
"Let's go, slut," I shake my head, fishing Pia's car keys out of her pocket.
With a bright smile, she intertwines our fingers, leading the way out of my room. She jumps up and down like a child leading their parent into a toy store. That's how you can tell Pia's pretty far gone. When she's on something, she's happy... Usually she's this sarcastic bitch that's not interested in anything.
I'm not sure which Pia I enjoy more. I don't think she does either.
"Clove, c'mon, please have some fun tonight," Pia puts her bottle of liquor in front of my face. She pouts her lips and bats her eyelashes at me.
It's not that I'm some prude that doesn't drink or anything. I suppose, compared to Pia, everybody looks like a wimp. But I can't help but to feel slightly responsible for my friend. She doesn't really have anybody looking after her, so it's up to me. It's always been this way.
But then on the other hand, my selfish urges sometimes conflict with my need to protect her. I know what will happen if I drink a lot tonight; I'll throw up. The thought seems so appealing, being able to flush everything out without shoving my finger down my throat.
Most of the time I drink it's to get sick afterwards. I never tell anyone that; everyone just assumes I like to party, which is perfectly fine by me.
"Pia, I've got to drive," I try my hardest to use common sense, even though the hefty bottle of alcohol looks incredibly tempting.
"It's fine, we'll call someone. I'm sure Daimon will come if he knows you're with," Pia laughs, shoving the bottle even further in my face.
The strong smell waifs off of it, the stench making my nose burn. This stuff's strong, it probably won't take long for me to get sick at all...
And Pia's encouraging smile, with a hint of amusement in her eyes doesn't help matters either. She makes the choice so easy. If only she knew what she were doing, I'm sure she would be pissed at me for letting her do this.
But, fuck it.
I grab the bottle and take a big swig. The strength causes fire to erupt in my throat. I cough ever-so-slightly, causing Pia to laugh and wrap her arms around my waist. I quickly suck in so she doesn't feel my gut.
"I better call Daimon," I sigh, digging my hands in my purse to find my cellphone, knowing I could be in the middle of the desert and Daimon would walk to come and get me.
What he sees in me, I'll never know. He's actually a nice guy, that's why I'm not accepting his advances. As his friend, I know he could do so much better. Many girls are going after him; many girls much prettier than I. I'm doing him a favor, even if he disagrees.
Maybe once I'm skinny, I won't have to do all these favors anymore...
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AN: The song featured on the side of this chapter is: Pretty Face by Sóley
This chapter is also dedicated to @ScrapbookLove for creating Clove
(& I forgot to add in the last chapter that it was dedicated to @AllOurHearts for her character Mas!)