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.


8. Unless I'm Hungry


We all leave the house at a quarter till one to go to some guy’s house who apparently has crazy ass trippy lights and shit. Plus pole dancers. 


We all are silent tip toeing to the back door so mom doesn’t wake up.


This guy’s house was out of town. 


So it was like an hour drive.

But apparently he doesn’t unlock his door for visitors until three anyway.



I don’t want to get more high.

My head is pounding and they all are smoking joints around me in the car.

Hate the smell, and hate the taste, but like the result. Unless I’m hungry.



I try to numb my head by whiskey and a cigarette.

I’m not a virgin to nicotine.

I smoked a couple cigarettes in my middle school days, when it was cool to smoke on school properties after hours, and if you got caught run for it.

I never got caught.

I was too weak to run for it though.

All the cool kids I hung out with said I’m so lucky I’m so tiny because I could hide so easily.

I didn’t starve myself back then. 

I puked my guts out after breakfast and dinner. But either maintained my weight or lost a few.

I also drank once at a new years party freshman year with some of the cool kids I was friends with.

But then they all left me, because my ex boyfriend told them about how I’ve been fasting. They said I wouldn’t be able to handle what they do now anyway.

So I’ve been friendless for a few months. 

But honestly, I don’t care, because Ana and Mia will always hold my hand. Always. And I think I might be gaining new friends like Mary Jane and White Pony.

W H I T E P O N Y.



We drove into a run down neighborhood where shutters and door hinges were falling off at the seems. 

It didn’t look like anyone lived here.

Then again, who knows.


We pulled in one of the nicer houses in the neighborhood (and I’m saying that the nicest way possible).


My hands shook. I don’t know if it was because I was getting a little tipsy, or if I was nervous, or if I was just being me.

I couldn’t open the door. I stayed still.

Stay still.

S T A Y S T I L L.




Stone opened the door for me.

“Come on bitch, this is where the shit’s at.” she pulled me out of the car, nearly making me fall to the muddy ground. 


And the high was just about to ware off.


I didn’t have to do anything if I didn’t want to.

I mean,

what’s the worst that could happen?

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