Stay Still

I remember when I was still alive.
When I was normal.
When I was good enough.
But that was awhile ago. Now I’m just this thing. This monster. Who know’s how far I’ll go, but then again, no one even cares.

Tiffany is a fifteen year old girl obsessed with her weight. All she thinks about is the last thing she ate and how soon she will purge it all up.
She knows she has a problem, but denies it all.

Soon her older brother Brad gets discharged out of rehab. He enters her into a new world she's been dying to experience.


3. Along Came Floyd


Days dragged on and on. Brad stayed in his room with the door locked, and never came out.

But this really attractive guy keeps coming to the house. I see him able to get inside that room. He brings this huge ass basketball bag and always enters with a lit cigarette. 

However, I doubt he’s even noticed me. Actually, that’s probably a good thing, he’s probably about twenty or so. I doubt he wants a fifteen year old drooling over him. Especially me. 



But today, I’m going to see if I can bone this twenty year old. Just kidding. Not.


He walks in the back door with black skinny jeans on with an open grey flannel. That’s how I define sex. 



I spin around in the bar chair, unintentionally biting my lip as he stood in the middle of my kitchen with wondering grey eyes.

I caught my tongue so I wouldn’t be too obvious that I wanted to rip his pants off. 



“Hey” he said in a raspy deep voice. 



Lady boner.



Lady boner.



I showed a slight smirk and replied with a hi, I tried to sound like one of those sex hotline chicks. But it didn’t turn out so well.



I’m so stupid. He probably thinks I’m crazy. Or a bitch. Or clingy. Or fat. So fat. Huge. Massive. Ginormous. Pig. Cow. Wannabe.



“I’m Floyd, I haven’t really seen you lurk around here before” he took a puff of his cigarette. Or was it weed.



“I’m Tiffany. Brad’s sister.” I stopped. Probably stuttered a bit, I’m bad at words. I’m bad at everything.



“Hey, how about you come hang with us a little, I can get ya hooked.” he smiled as smoke leered from his nostrils, fogging up his septum piercing. 



I’m not very sure what getting me hooked meant. But whatever it was, I was sure up for the opportunity. 



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