The Enemy
Eve
I always believed that life was like a story. We're born, we die and somewhere in the middle, we live. It is during this middle that we become broken, that we tangle ourselves into situations that we're taught to run away from. That's what got me to where I am.
As a child, I was oblivious to so much. I was sheltered, kept unaware of my parents' hatred and selfishness. But Drew couldn't keep it a secret forever--the older I got, the more I saw. No longer did I see them as people I wanted to be. They were monsters, and I hated them for that. I hated them for putting the business in front of family. I hated them for not noticing the suffering they were putting us through.
"Chin up, big smiles." Mom barked as I walked across the room. It was two days before the company's annual ball, and just like every year, she was putting me through a two-day bootcamp. "That is not how someone with a future walks. Do you want to disgrace your father?"
"Of course not, Mother." I respectfully replied. In all reality, I didn't care if I did or not.
"Then act like it. This is not school--we do not slouch, and we always take small steps."
My steps were getting wobbly, and my head had began to pound. If I didn't get food in my system soon, I would pass out.
"May I get some food?" I hestitantly asked.
She sighed. "No, you may not. If you gain any more weight, you won't fit into the dress. Besides, you're starting to...lose your figure. It's time you dropped a few pounds."
I hated her for that comment, for making me watch every morsel of food that went into my mouth. She went as far as hiring somebody to monitor me, just in case I lied about my calorie count. She had forgotten that I was an athlete, often praticing three or more hours a day on the court and spending two more in the weight room. She didn't quite realize that I required more food than the average teenager, that I never ate anything I couldn't work off.
I was scarred. She had made food my enemy.