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.


9. Strippers On A Playboy Couch


We walked in through the backdoor. Which I’m sort of used to doing by now.



The room was a dark night-like blue. And the stars were the strobe lights taking stills of almost every moment.



We walk into a room on the left and it was designed to please.


It was a huge room as if for a party, the walls were black with neon graffitti lit up with a blacklight. 

There was stripper poles wherever you turned. 


And the couch, Jesus Christ it looked like someone stole it from the Playboy Mansion. 


This couch was lined up against every single wall, and long enough where you can lay your body down on it and watch the ceiling spin. 


The dark red velvet was just what I wanted to lay on, next to an attractive someone.



But I shouldn’t.



My fat body will take up too much room.

T O O M U C H R O O M.





Floyd disappeared somewhere. But honestly I don’t care right now. I just want to rest my head somewhere and watch the world turn upside down.




The high has worn off quite a lot since the smoke from the Mary Jane on the way here kept it going.



There was no smoke here.


But why?




Suddenly there was a loud gun shot coming from the other room. 



All the half naked females scream and ran going out windows, doors, locking themselves in other rooms.



I let out a large sigh.



Someone just shoot me, it would make this party the best party there ever was in the history of drug-strobe light-pole dancer-dark-crazy ass parties.

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