Stay Still

**THIS STORY MAY BE TRIGGERING TO: DRUG ABUSE / SELF HARM / EATING DISORDERS!**
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.

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2. Obviously, He Feels Bad

 

It was a very long car ride to the rehab facility where Brad was checked into almost a year ago. He was living with my dad at the time and he just kept sending him places after places because he never learned ever. 

What decided mom to pick him up and let him stay with us is beyond me. Besides, he is a 19 year old. Legal.

 

 

4:46  PM

I waited, and waited. I felt my stomach growl. Success.  I mean, oh fuck! Okay, I swear I’m not crazy, I just have this disease where I am always hungry. Starving.

S T A R V I N G.

 

 

 

Brad opens the passenger door and immediately demands me to get in the back. No, “Hi Tiff, how’s it going I haven’t see you in 8 years.” Nothing. Not even “Hey Tiff, You look like a fat ass cow, stop eating.”

S T O P E A T I N G.

 

 

The car was silent all the way back to the house. It reeked of the scent of hospital soap and old people. The smell made me sick. The hospital scent (I love old people!). It scares me kind of actually. I know he went to a rehabilitation center, but just the thought of what if I am a little screwed up in the head, like Brad. But I’m not. I’m

F I N E.

 

 

7:00 PM

“You look awful thin” Brad said as I brushed my skirt against my legs.

That’s the first thing he said to me all day.

 

Is he being serious? Or does he just feel bad? Oh shut up Tiff, why the fuck would someone say that to me? Obviously he feels bad that I’m an obese whale.

 

O B E S E W H A L E.

 

I smiled. “I miss that smile.” he said looking towards the ground. Too bad it’s fake. Too bad it’s one painted on picture. 

“It’s weird.” I looked at the ground too, but the ground was my feet, my feet was my legs, my legs are my fat thighs. 

“What’s weird?”

“You, being here, speaking to me, being all better. Last time we spoke was when you almost killed me.” I giggled as if it was nothing. But it was something alright.

“Heh, yeah. But I’m different now. Life’s good.” he said with a smirk, kind of a planned smirk with an evil look in his eye. As if he had some sort of crazy ass plan. But who am I kidding, he’s been in and out of rehabs and hospitals for 8 years, what could possibly be on his mind?

 

 

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