"Gaige, wake up, mom and Brad have already let you sleep in," Gaige rolled his face in the rough pillowcases at the sound of Krista's annoyed voice. When Gaige didn't lift his head up or push back his covers, Krista lets out another annoyed scuff, "Get up, moms mad your laying around and didn't come to church with us. And I'm mad I have to be your alarm clock. Set your own alarm," Then loudly stomped out of Gaige's new room without shutting the door.
Gaige lets out a sigh into the chocolate-colored pillowcase, before throwing himself onto his back, to stare at the white popcorn ceiling. He blinks his red, tired eyes, obviously tired even though he went to bed incredibly early last night. Gaige chews on his lower lip, reaching for his phone that was resting on his bedside table, before scrolling through his social media. He frowns at the time when he catches it. 8:30? It was only 8:30 am on a Sunday. What time does this family go to church in the morning? Fucking five in the morning?
To: Brotha Anotha Motha
First, they wake me up at eight in the fucking morning and then inform me they've already gone to church? Is it normal to wake up that early for cult meetings?? Hmu when you wake up I'll have been up for hours
Sun 8:35am
Then Gaige throws back his many layers of blankets -many he applied at night after searching for them in the closet, and cringes at the cold hardwood on his feet when he stands up. Gaige scratches the back of his head as he shuffles down the hallway and stairs, past the living room where Brad and Chester watch Sunday morning educational cartoons, and into the kitchen where Erin scrubs clean a griddle. Gaige saw no sign of Milton or Krista.
When she hears Gaige's shuffling behind her. She blows a piece of hair out of her face, barely managing to get rid of the annoyance on her face, "Oh, there you are," Erin set down her rag and takes off the pink dish gloves before leaning on the counter, "Brad can you come in here for a moment?"
Gaige blinks, furrowing his brows as his father slowly rises from the couch in the living room to come to join his wife and elder biological son in the kitchen. Gaige hates looking like his father, who's leaning on the kitchen island with a cup of coffee now.
Gaige never looked like his mother and that's why they made better friends than mother and son. He had shaggy dirty blonde hair that never fell right unlike his mother whose brunette waves swirled on her shoulders. Her tan shoulders. Gaige never grew out of his burning instead of tanning stage of life despite living in since he was five. Instead, Gaige inherited pale white skin from his father, so pale he was often asked if he was sick. Perhaps from his lack of nutrients. It didn't help he had constant bags under his eyes, and not much but skin and bones.
Like his father, Gaige was a very self-conscience man. Tall, lanky, clumsy, thick, heavy set eyebrows, easily gave up and didn't like to raise his voice. But unlike his dad. Gaige was an angry boy, a grudge holder, and stubborn. Which meant he was not about to be pushed over by his stepmother, Erin.
"Gaige, we need to set a few ground rules if you are going to be living under our roof," Unwillingly, "First, last night was unacceptable. We do not use curse in this household. I understand you didn't know last night, but after today cursing will be punished. With such a young child, we try encouraging the use of more educated words. Secondly, your tone was unacceptable. You will never use that tone with Brad or I."
Gaige looks over at his father who is only nodding along with Erin's words and staring down at his nice shoes. Gaige sighs, knowing he shouldn't expect anything else form his cowardice father.
Erin continues, "Other rules, curfew is at ten o'clock. Your school starts at 7-30. Milton and Krista leave the house at seven, so be ready by then in the morning or be prepared to ride a bicycle to school. They will be stopping by at seven even on the weeks they're at their fathers', so you must still be ready by then. Neither your father or I am going to give you a ride to make up for your mistake," Brad shakes his head, still not looking up, "Breakfast is at eight on Saturdays, and church services start at seven on Sunday-"
Gaige flicks his impassive gaze at Erin, "I don't believe in God."
Erin's eyes widen, so do Brad, as he lifts his head, snapping his gaze between his wife and his son. Erin clears her throat and purses her lips, "While with your track record, I'd say it's about time you start looking for his forgiveness."
Gaige narrows his eyes, darts out his tongue, wets his lips and prepares for a religious battle he's had more than once when Brad surprisingly bounces in, "We won't force you to come, but you must be awake by the time we get back. And you will have to make your own breakfast."
Erin wasn't sufficed with her husband's dealings, "If you prove yourself not responsible enough to stay at home alone, then we will force to come with us," Then she narrows her poorly made-up eyes at Gaige, testing him.
"Don't worry, Erin. This unsaved boy can figure out how to stay out of trouble for a couple of hours if it means not selling my soul to a soulless god," His smirk sealed his comment, and made Erin's lip twitch downward as if her lips could dig any more downward.
"Another rule we have is if you do not have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all," Chester stumbled into the kitchen with impeccable timing, "Isn't that right baby? We all have to only say nice things to each other?" Erin's smile is almost motherly as she pats the little boys head.
Gaige's half-brother smiles up at her, and then up at Gaige, who stares impassive at him, "That's right. So you don't hurt anyone's feelings," Before smilingly proudly as if he knows the code to world peace.
Gaige smiles sarcastically down at the little boy, "Then your mom shouldn't ever open those thin lips," Before patting his head like Erin had and turning back up the stairs.
When he falls back in his bed, it isn't as warm as when he left. The bed ruffled loudly, Gaige groaned and grabbed his phone.
To: Gaige
I work 7 to 12. So I've been up longr than your srry ass suk on that
Sun 8:40am
Waken up that early to bow down 2 God is fucn wild nxt time I see u, u'll be wearn a cross n' like worshipn our graceful land n' shit
Gaige blinks, and rolls his eyes, hating how Leon refuses to type out full words when he texts. Sometimes it's impossible to decipher his words.
To: Brotha Anotha Motha
I've already been given a curfew and a wake-up time.
Sun 8:47am
Gaige tosses his phone into his supply of pillows, sighing at his view of the suitcase and duffle bag on the ground. He pushes the hair out of his eyes, sits up, before grabbing the heavy bag off the ground and onto the bed. The dark wood dresser matches the color of the desk but is hidden in the decent size closet.
Gaige's luggage consists of, another pair of sneakers, socks, underwear, ripped jeans, basketball shorts, t-shirts, and baggy sweatshirts he never takes off his body to support his unfortunate secret.
Gaige was a lucky man it made him constantly cold, because no matter the temperature in Florida, Gaige wore full coverage on at least his upper half. It'd been that way for at least the past year and a half.
Gaige had never been a chubby boy. He always took after his lanky parents, who never held much fat on their body. But, like a switch in his brain was flipped, he became too aware of everything.
From the boy who didn't about anyone else or their opinions, he began looking and comparing his body to all the other more 'ripped' boys in the locker rooms. He'd sit into front of his mirror, pushing the skin on this stomach around imaging all the kids at school laughing at his fat. He used his mother's old scale to weigh himself uncontrollably until the numbers burned into his brain and haunted him even in his dreams.
Soon, when Gaige looked at the ice cream cone Leon offered him, all he could see was his stomach grown fat and rounder. When he looked at his plate at dinner, he only imagined the numbers on the scale growing and the boys at school laughing at him in the locker room. He ditched hanging out with Leon and Maddie to hit the gym for a few more hours. He played with his food at dinner until his parents gave up on him eating all his food like he was six again.
But no matter how slim his stomach got, or was replaced by muscle from working out, it still made Gaige sick to stand on the scale. It was never good enough for his illness. Being asked about eating wasn't good either. Lack of food had an effect on his energy and mental health.
While Gaige had always been a snippy, stubborn boy, he now didn't have the energy to deal with anyone else or their questions. He felt the constant need to be in control. And any show of emotion he may have had before slipped out the door with his ability to be comfortable with his body.
His mother nor step-father didn't notice. It was only Leon and Maddy who saw Gaige avoiding carb-filled foods, or showing skin. It didn't happen for a while, seeing as Gaige managed to easily seam it into his everyday life. But a few months ago, Leon noticed his brother throwing away his favorite dinner without a bite. And Maddie noticed when he stopped coming when she suggested they went out to eat.
Gaige denied it of course. But Maddie had expected it, she'd done her research before joining forces with Leon to confront the one-third of their trio that needed help. But Gaige retaliated. He refused to call it what it was. An eating disorder. Anorexia. A death trap. He pushed them away, Leon physically, Maddie emotionally. Gaige drove to Tallahassee, snorted some rich boy's cocaine and came back absolutely wrecked.
It was Leon and Maddie who welcomed him back. As long as he promised to stop his self-destructing ways. But what they didn't know, was that the illness wasn't as simple as a promise.
He tried for a little while, to be a normal teenage boy who didn't care about his weight or what his body looked like. But it didn't last long, and now Gaige was folding sweatshirts in his new dresser and wondering where the closest gym was. Not to mention he hasn't eaten in nearly 24 hours, leaving his stomach beginning to swirl with empty sickness.
Gaige shut his last dresser door and closed the closet door where he had stuff his empty luggage when his phone buzzed on the bed.
To: Gaige
Welcme bac 2 bootcamp bitch lol
Sun 9:09am