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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5. They Wouldn't Let Me Put It On My ID

 

 

“Well what do you think?” Floyd said nervously.

What am I some sort of art? Questioning if my work was okay to be placed around the furnishings?

 

She let out a smile adding less breathable air to the room.

 

 

“You’re ‘ight doll face. Don’t get too worked up. This ain’t no sacred club, unless ya know, are a cop.” she chuckled and fell onto the bed next to Brad.

 

 

“I’m Stone, ya know like ‘stoner’ but, I’m sure they wouldn’t let me put it on my ID, well my real one anyways.”


I gulped. Choking a little. What am I getting myself into? Oh yeah, Floyd’s pants.

 

 

“What do they call ya? Tall, skinny, and shy?” she wrapped her arm around my brothers shoulder grabbing a wine bottle that was cracked a bit on the side, and took a sip. 

 

“I’m Tiffany, but some call me Tiff.”

 

I’m kind of flattered she called me skinny. But she probably just wanted to boost my confidence a little. I’m not skinny.

 

N O T S K I N N Y.

 

 

“Floyd, what do you got today? Any good stuff? Last night fucking sucked dude. You totally got ripped.” Brad said signaling Floyd to bring over the basketball bag.

 

 

What do they have?

It’s probably just alcohol and weed. What else could it possibly be? I mean, he is in recovery. Isn’t he?

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