Violet is anorexic. But she refuses to believe it. She spends most nights caring for her delusional mother and crying over her body. If only she was different. If only she could be like them. But with the help of Logan, the boy she's been texting and emailing for the past year, can she get over her illness and accept her beauty? Maybe even find love?


2. Bleach

The bitter wind snaps at my skin as I hurry down my street and towards my house. A dog barks viciously from the house opposite mine as I shove my key into the door. I step inside and shut it, taking a deep breath.
"I'm home, mum." I call out, expecting her to come rushing into the hallway. She would gather me in her arms and kiss my forehead. She would ask me how my day had been. Then she would make me a cup of hot chocolate and turn the telly on whilst I started my homework. 
But she never did. 
She used to. Not anymore. 
Instead, I'm greeted by the eery silence that the house contains.
"Mum?" I call out again, looking in all of the downstairs rooms. Panic begins to rise within me as I hear something smack the floor upstairs. I rush up; my heart racing. 
"Mum?!" I shout, sprinting into the bathroom. I spot her small body hunched over as she sits in the far corner of the room, her back up against the tiled wall. Deep scratches cover her arms, blood trickling down.
"Get out!" She shouts. At first I thought she was shouting at me. 
"Get out of my head!" She screams, pulling roughly at her hair.
"Get out, get out, get out." She mumbles as she reaches for the blue bottle sitting beside the toilet.
"Mum, no!" I scream, diving towards her. I snatch the bleach from her hand as she lifts the top to her mouth. 
"What have you done!" She says, horrified as she watches the bleach tip onto the bathroom floor. I stand and stare at it. 
She could have died. 
She could have drunk that bleach.
She could have killed herself.
"Mum, mum it's okay." I try and keep my voice calm as she begins to sob. 
"Shhhh," I stroke her hair as she scratches at her arms; her nails red with dried blood. I glance around and the scales catch my eyes. They were taunting me. They were always there. 
Laughing at me.
Tempting me.
Hurting me. 

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