Hello! Severe angst alert ahead, by the way!
WARNINGS: EATING DISORDER, IMPLIED BULLYING, BRIEF MENTION OF CHILD ABUSE
Thank you to Dawnbreak55 for the idea!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
I told another lie today
And I got through this day
No one saw through my games
- "Courage" by Superchick
It's amazing how easy it is to lie the more you do it. I've been lying since I was eight, since my mom died.
The first real lie I told was when the doctor asked me to rank my pain- the pain in my chest, my head, etc. I'd hold up however many fingers from a one to a ten.
Then, he asked me to rank my emotional pain. And I held up three fingers when the pain I felt in my heart, the grief, would've broken the scale. The doctor knew I was lying, but he didn't push me.
Then, as I got older, I started to lie more and more. I lied about how some of my foster parents hit me, how some of the kids at school liked to call me names; I lied about how I felt if anyone cared to ask.
Lie, lie, lie. And it only got easier to do so.
I know all the tricks to avoid getting caught, and ways to avoid the topic if I am.
Turn on the faucet; it drowns out the noise. If anyone hears, just tell them it was the plumping acting up and that I'd fix it later.
Chug some water and diet soda; it makes it easier for everything to come up.
After chugging three cans of diet coke and four bottles of water, I knelt on the floor and forced my fingers down my throat. Everything was out of me in twenty seconds flat; a new record.
Yes, I know it's not normal; I know it's not healthy. But once you start... you can't stop.
And now, I'm almost beyond caring if it's healthy or if it kills me. Almost.
I flush the toilet and my minimal dinner down with it before scrubbing my hands until they're red and raw. I know better than to brush my teeth; all I'm doing is swishing the acid around and causing more damage to my teeth. So I swish and spit out some water and mouth wash before popping some gum in my mouth and going to work.
Jason's there on guard duty, and I take a compact mirror out of my toolbelt to check to make sure that my eyes aren't too watery or that my cheeks aren't too puffy.
When I deem my appearance fit, I step out onto the deck and plaster a fake smile on my face.
"Hey, Jace, what's up?" I say as I go over to the helm.
"Making sure we don't get murdered," he replies, casually.
"Well, that's a very important job," I chuckle before getting to work on the repairs.
Jason retires to bed around midnight, switching with Hazel, who sits there for thirty minutes before she says something.
"Go get some sleep, Leo," she says, softly. "The last thing we need is for you to pass out on us."
I smile, tell her thanks and goodnight, and go to my cabin.
Thirty minutes pass, and I'm still awake.
I can't believe you ate today, the Voice sneered.
The Voice has been there for as long as I can remember, but I suppose it came when I was nine or ten. After the grief turned to full blown depression.
To tell you the truth, I know that there are ways that I can get rid of the Voice, but... I don't want to. I know that sounds weird; why would I want a voice in my head insulting me for hours on end?
Because the Voice was there when nobody else was.
When Teresa locked me in my room for months, the Voice was there, and I could almost feel a presence curled up beside me on the mattress I called a bed. When the kids at school called me names, scaring off anyone that tried to be my friend, the Voice stayed. When I was alone in Bunker Nine for all those months- my friends seemingly forgetting about me- the Voice was there to replace them.
The point is that the Voice is my best friend. And it's not so easy to get rid of your best friend, even when you logically know that it's for the best.
Fat pig. You're disgusting, freak. No wonder your so called friends don't hang out with you. Who would want to spend any time with the lazy fatso?
But I got it all up. Doesn't that count for something?
You shouldn't have failed in the first place.
This goes on for another fifteen minutes before I drift off to sleep.
I should've know I'd dream. Most demigods get at least one dreamless night a week, but me? I have demigod dreams, and I have the Other Dreams.
I'm standing in the bathroom on the Argo II, and I can tell from the bitter taste in my mouth that I just got done purging.
I cradle some water in my hands before swishing it around in my mouth.
That's strange. It doesn't taste like water; it tastes... metallic.
I spit it out in the sink. Blood splashes onto the porcelain.
I scream as my heart begins to beat twice as fast, making a single beat send excruciating pain through my body.
"HELP ME!" I cry, but I know that no one will come.
I shoot up in my bed, nearly falling off in the process, and stare at the blinking light of my alarm clock.
Thirty-seven minutes. Not bad; usually I don't get any sleep.
I climb to my feet and stumble up the stairs, stopping in the mess hall to make some coffee (black- 0 calories). Then, I go up to the deck.
Hazel's shift had ended (thank the gods), and Frank now sits in her place. He looks up in curiosity at my footsteps.
"Oh, hey, Valdez," he grunts, not sounding particularly happy to see me.
Who would be happy to see a pig like you? Just say good morning, maybe crack a joke, and get to work. No more laziness from you, loser.
"Morning," I say. "Seen any good monsters lately?"
He rolls his eyes. "It's there such a thing?"
I shrug. "You never know. I mean, our lives are pretty weird."
He snorts. "Got that right."
I get to work while he scans the horizon for monsters.
"Hey, Valdez," he suddenly says, "what are you doing up? You don't seem like an early bird to me."
"Mr. Zhang, I am both early bird and night owl," I say in my best wise voice.
"So you never sleep?"
I freeze. How did he-
"I'm smarter than you think, Valdez. Nightmares?"
"Yep," I say. "Some rubbish about Gaea shall kill us all and the world is going to end and a face in the potty sludge. You know, the usual."
"Potty sludge?"
"Don't ask."
"Do I even want to know?"
"Nope."
The ship is quiet until Frank's shift is over, and Percy takes his place. Percy and I don't exchange one word because no matter how many times I apologize for what happened at New Rome, I know he'll never forgive me.
Breakfast comes all too soon, but I suppose that breakfast is easier to survive than dinner. You'll find out why later.
Everyone is having their own conversations, and no one is paying attention to me.
Annabeth and Percy are arguing over the fact that Percy 'drowned his pancakes,' which is very true; the Sea Prince has lathered his pancakes in hundreds of calories of maple syrup.
Jason and Piper are talking in hushed tones about something or other. I'm not even sure if I want to know what it is.
Frank is futiley trying to explain to Hazel what a Poptart is with a lot of displays of his own cinnamon and brown sugar breakfast. I want to tell her not to eat it because it has over 200 calories per serving and she'll get fat, but that's the Voice talking. She definitely doesn't need to watch what she eats; her body is perfect.
Ha! Why would she want a blimp like you? The Voice sneered. She has Frank, who's much better than you; when you're thin and in control and deserving of love, maybe she'll want you, but we've got a long way to go.
When no one is looking, I stuff the ganorala bar, which is all that's in front of me (I'd prefer to skip breakfast, but while they don't notice if I don't eat a lot, they will notice if I don't eat at all), into my tool belt.
I excuse myself and disappear into the bathroom for the Voice to do its work.
Fat stomach. Chubby cheeks. Thunder thighs. Bloated arms. Huge calves. That's all I see.
I didn't used to see this. In fact, if I remember right, this didn't even start because I thought I was fat. That started long after.
It's control. When I was tossed from foster home to foster home like a beach ball, I had no control over where I went or who I ended up with. I had no control over what tragedies and horrors came my way. I couldn't control my foster parents or the monsters or the kids at school. So I found something I could control: what I ate.
I count calories because I can control that number. I monitor my weight because I can control it. I watch what I eat because I can control what I put in my mouth. No one else can.
When the bullying got really bad at my fifth foster home, I started to see this... image. And the not eating got worse.
It's a rabbit hole, and I'm Alice. Just like her, i never know when I'm going to hit rock bottom.
I hear the others getting ready to leave the mess hall, and I exit the bathroom to get back to work.
Maybe they'll notice me if I get everything done. If I make the repairs, if I fix their weapons, if I don't screw up, maybe they'll notice me.
That's another factor in all of this. My entire life, I've been invisible, that kid that slipped under the radar, so I started searching for ways to be noticed, to get the attention that I was so deprived of.
Even though I'm ADHD and dyslexic, I studied all through the night to get good grades on my tests. I exercised and practiced every sport there was until I was one of the best athletes in school. I lost weight so fast that girls and boys alike asked me how I'd done it.
But I never told them that my foster parents starved me or that I deliberately pushed food to the side to get here.
Work. Work. Work. That's all I do until lunch time rolls around, where I go through another half hour of hiding food and pretending to eat it, even though no one's watching me.
The worst part is when nobody notices. I work so hard to be noticed, and I never get recognition, not even a thank you.
That makes me mad and depressed, but also... determined. It makes me want to work harder, to eat less, to exercise and work more, to give it my all.
So I don't eat a single morsel of food from after dinner the night before to dinner tonight.
And I'm determined to get out of eating supper with the crew tonight.
I cook dinner most nights, unless I have a lot of work to get done, in which case Hazel or Annabeth cooks.
Tonight, I'm making tacos because they're my specialty. I set out all the ingredients and carefully measure out mine, so that the total is 190 calories and not a decimal point over.
As the crew digs in, I cut mine up, which would've been a lot of questions if they actually noticed. Then, when I'm sure no one even has a chance of seeing, I scoop up a piece with my fork and dump it into the napkin smoothed over my lap.
Before I know it, the taco is gone, and I roll up the napkin and stuff it in my toolbelt before excusing myself.
I retreat to my room and toss the taco in the garbage, burning it quickly to get rid of the evidence. Then, I take the ganorala bar, which is still in my pocket, and hide it under my bed. I'll put it in the pantry after everyone heads to bed.
There's a knock at the door, and I answer it, surprised to see Jason on the other side.
"Hey, Leo, can we talk?"
He's onto you. Get rid of him. Lie.
No. He doesn't even notice me half the time, so how would he know?
"Sure. What about?" I say as I allow him in.
"Piper. It's just... you know I've never been good with emotions, " he says, looking uncomfortable as he sits on the bed.
I snort. "Understatement."
"Shut up," he laughs. "How do I tell her how I feel?"
"Why ask me?"
"Well, you're so open and... fun. Confident. And besides, I can trust you with anything, and you know Piper better than anybody else on this ship. So what do I do?"
"Well, lucky for you, Piper's a very straight forward girl. If you want to ask her out on a date, ask her out. You kind of have to be romantic without being obvious about it if that makes any sense. Just say you really like her, and you'd like to go out with her. Then, just say what she means to you without being super cheesy."
Jason nods. "Sounds simple enough."
"Well, Piper's a simple girl when it comes to relationships. You're lucky; if you had dated some of the girls I dated when I was younger, you'd have your work cut out for you."
Jason laughs. "Thanks, Leo. Night."
"Night."
I smile as he leaves, but as soon as the door shuts, the smile drops. It's all an act, all a mask, I put on for the public, but when I'm alone, I lose the strength to keep it up.
I'm lost. Lost in a world of lies and masks.
What did you think? There will be more on how Leo got like this later; just be patient. Thanks for reading!