Broken Mirror
Title: Broken Mirror
Rating: Mature
World: Original
Characters: OC
Chapter: 1/1
Word Count: 863
Summary Much along the same line as 'Perfect Girl'.
From the moment she wakes to the moment she closes her head is full of numbers. She’s drowning in them. The digits on the scales decide her mood for the day; her mood decides how much she has. It’s never enough but always too much for her. Two. Four. Six. Eight. A life based around lies. “I already ate”, “I’m having a big meal at home”, “I feel ill”.
Every day is a struggle and she’s never good enough.
This morning she wakes and falls out of bed. She goes through the normal morning routine, downstairs to put on the kettle then races back up to weigh herself. As she steps on the scale she can almost hear her heart racing in her chest. She wishes it wouldn’t, sure that the extra beating will only add weight. She cracks her eyes open and stares down at the red lights of the display. 2lbs down this morning. Today is a good day.
But still as she stares into the mirror at her greying skin and thinning hair she doesn’t like what she sees. She could swear the scales told her she lost weight but here in the mirror she is bigger than ever. Her stomach bulges, thighs expand. Even her arms seem to have rolls of fat. Tears gather in her eyes even as she pulls away. It was like looking at a car crash, horrible but captivating. She grits her teeth and breaks the hold, throwing herself into her wardrobe. Everything is too big these days, but she refuses to admit it. She pulls the belt tight as her jeans fold under it. Everything is hidden under a baggy tee shirt. She doesn’t want to repulse everyone with her fat.
She’s too wrapped up in her own head to notice it but the door has creaked open and her mother stands there holding breakfast.
“I brought your breakfast up sweetheart.” She smiled, setting down the tea and toast on the bedside table.
The girl turns, trying not to shudder in fear at the butter that drips from the toast and onto the plate. Instead she forces a smile.
“Sure. I’ll be down before school.” She replies.
Her mother, blissfully ignorant, smiles and leaves the room. The girl still smiles. Her mind is made up. Today is a zero day. Water, water and more water. Not a bite of food will pass her lips today, today she will have control. She ignores the dizziness that tells her this is a bad idea, ignores the growl her stomach gives as she shoves the bread into the bin.
Today will be full of lies and temptation. But she will be strong. She will have control.
She will be perfect.
School comes quickly and she finds herself shoved about in the din of the hallways. Watches as people push past with toast in their mouths and cans of coke in their hands. She shudders inwardly. There are 139 calories in that can, over 100 in that bread at least. What that boy ate would be all her calories for tomorrow and more. She pauses by the canteen as the smell of bacon makes her stomach protest loudly. Someone crashes into her back.
“Hey are you okay?” The stranger asks, eyeing her carefully.
“I’m fine.” She replies, plastering on a fake smile. “Just got distracted.”
She pulls her coat tighter around her and walks to class. There she sits, copying notes from the board, too hungry and too tired to comprehend what she is seeing. She shivers slightly; she is always cold these days.
The day moves too quickly and all of a sudden its break. So she sits in the canteen with her friends, huddled around a small table. They’re all laughing and eating, leaning back to drink their cups of hot chocolate. She alone sips at water, keeping quiet so they can’t hear how broken she has become. No one notices and she goes on pretending she is fine.
Break passes and they separate, moving to their next lessons. The day moves slowly now, and no matter how much water she drinks her stomach won’t stay quiet. People start to stare and wonder but she brushes them away. Come lunchtime she feels so weak. It’s been days since she ate properly. She staggers to her seat and collapses, watching as her friends eat, bottle of water clutched between her fingers. Someone offers her some crisps but she declines, shuddering at the thought of the fat and calories in them. How do people expect her to live up to their standards if they’re testing her? They just want my control. She assures herself. They just want to take this away from me. Make me weak.
That night she goes home and collapses. She cries tears she didn’t know she had and crawls under the sheets. Her eyes close and she drifts away, preparing to face another day of lies.
Meanwhile her friends are left to worry over the drastic weight loss she cannot see. Left helpless and frightened while their best friend wastes away before their eyes, trapped in her own little world of secrets and walls.
Disclaimer: I don’t make any money off this writing and the characters all belong to me. It’s fiction and in no way am I saying that anything I write about has or will actually happen (with the exception of reference to true historical events of course).
Bascically I don’t own, I don’t make money, don’t sue.
Author’s Notes: Blah.
Rating: Mature
World: Original
Characters: OC
Chapter: 1/1
Word Count: 863
Summary Much along the same line as 'Perfect Girl'.
From the moment she wakes to the moment she closes her head is full of numbers. She’s drowning in them. The digits on the scales decide her mood for the day; her mood decides how much she has. It’s never enough but always too much for her. Two. Four. Six. Eight. A life based around lies. “I already ate”, “I’m having a big meal at home”, “I feel ill”.
Every day is a struggle and she’s never good enough.
This morning she wakes and falls out of bed. She goes through the normal morning routine, downstairs to put on the kettle then races back up to weigh herself. As she steps on the scale she can almost hear her heart racing in her chest. She wishes it wouldn’t, sure that the extra beating will only add weight. She cracks her eyes open and stares down at the red lights of the display. 2lbs down this morning. Today is a good day.
But still as she stares into the mirror at her greying skin and thinning hair she doesn’t like what she sees. She could swear the scales told her she lost weight but here in the mirror she is bigger than ever. Her stomach bulges, thighs expand. Even her arms seem to have rolls of fat. Tears gather in her eyes even as she pulls away. It was like looking at a car crash, horrible but captivating. She grits her teeth and breaks the hold, throwing herself into her wardrobe. Everything is too big these days, but she refuses to admit it. She pulls the belt tight as her jeans fold under it. Everything is hidden under a baggy tee shirt. She doesn’t want to repulse everyone with her fat.
She’s too wrapped up in her own head to notice it but the door has creaked open and her mother stands there holding breakfast.
“I brought your breakfast up sweetheart.” She smiled, setting down the tea and toast on the bedside table.
The girl turns, trying not to shudder in fear at the butter that drips from the toast and onto the plate. Instead she forces a smile.
“Sure. I’ll be down before school.” She replies.
Her mother, blissfully ignorant, smiles and leaves the room. The girl still smiles. Her mind is made up. Today is a zero day. Water, water and more water. Not a bite of food will pass her lips today, today she will have control. She ignores the dizziness that tells her this is a bad idea, ignores the growl her stomach gives as she shoves the bread into the bin.
Today will be full of lies and temptation. But she will be strong. She will have control.
She will be perfect.
School comes quickly and she finds herself shoved about in the din of the hallways. Watches as people push past with toast in their mouths and cans of coke in their hands. She shudders inwardly. There are 139 calories in that can, over 100 in that bread at least. What that boy ate would be all her calories for tomorrow and more. She pauses by the canteen as the smell of bacon makes her stomach protest loudly. Someone crashes into her back.
“Hey are you okay?” The stranger asks, eyeing her carefully.
“I’m fine.” She replies, plastering on a fake smile. “Just got distracted.”
She pulls her coat tighter around her and walks to class. There she sits, copying notes from the board, too hungry and too tired to comprehend what she is seeing. She shivers slightly; she is always cold these days.
The day moves too quickly and all of a sudden its break. So she sits in the canteen with her friends, huddled around a small table. They’re all laughing and eating, leaning back to drink their cups of hot chocolate. She alone sips at water, keeping quiet so they can’t hear how broken she has become. No one notices and she goes on pretending she is fine.
Break passes and they separate, moving to their next lessons. The day moves slowly now, and no matter how much water she drinks her stomach won’t stay quiet. People start to stare and wonder but she brushes them away. Come lunchtime she feels so weak. It’s been days since she ate properly. She staggers to her seat and collapses, watching as her friends eat, bottle of water clutched between her fingers. Someone offers her some crisps but she declines, shuddering at the thought of the fat and calories in them. How do people expect her to live up to their standards if they’re testing her? They just want my control. She assures herself. They just want to take this away from me. Make me weak.
That night she goes home and collapses. She cries tears she didn’t know she had and crawls under the sheets. Her eyes close and she drifts away, preparing to face another day of lies.
Meanwhile her friends are left to worry over the drastic weight loss she cannot see. Left helpless and frightened while their best friend wastes away before their eyes, trapped in her own little world of secrets and walls.
Disclaimer: I don’t make any money off this writing and the characters all belong to me. It’s fiction and in no way am I saying that anything I write about has or will actually happen (with the exception of reference to true historical events of course).
Bascically I don’t own, I don’t make money, don’t sue.
Author’s Notes: Blah.