♥

My skin is cool where the tiles press up against my cheek, warm hues that have faded long ago, and I lay watching the dust floating slowly from one spot to another as my body moves, disturbing its rest. I can feel his eyes on me but I make no effort to return his gaze, instead I focus even more intently on the letters dancing across the binding of the books stacked in front of me. “Are you okay?” Even though he is seated at only an arms length, his voice sounds distant as if I were just awaking from an overdue slumber. I am afraid of what I have already shown him, I am afraid of what he will see when he looks past my cover up words of “Fine” and “Of course.” I do not say anything. My fingers move in rapid motion tap dancing over steel appliances, resting on my thighs. “Why don’t you eat something, please.”

“And get fat?” I shoot back, my tone elevating to a shrill pitch. “I will not be fat.” Almost several hours later it is to much for my heart to bear to see him in such emotional grievance over my starving, I agree to walk to Burger King. But first I tear the paper lid off the small box hidden in the corner of my room and watch as two diet pills slide easily into the palm of my hand. The corners of my lip turn upwards slightly at my now familiar habit, at my aid to destruction, at my addiction.