Title: Tags
Rating: PG
Author: Heath07
Summary: "There are tags attached to her."
Feedback: Please. Thanks to everyone who has ever replied and those who continue to reply.
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything. :(
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Marissa is afraid of her own mother.
There are tags attached to her. Anorexic. Shoplifter. Alcoholic. And now, suicidal.
Yes, it's true in the ninth grade Marissa starved herself. The thing about starving is that you don't really feel anything. There is a certain floating, euphoric dizzy sensation that comes with being hungry and not feeding that burn in your stomach. It's like being on the Tea Cups in Disneyland. Spinning around and around and not being able to get off the ride. Black spots form in front of your eyes when you try to stand. Your legs shake and your stomach groans. She liked the feeling of nothingness, but it was dark; too dark and too cold. At least when she was hungry, she knew she was alive.
In tenth, she decided to start eating again and picked up other bad habits. Smoking wasn't all that bad, if that had been all that she was doing. Of course, it wasn't. A few cigarettes and a joint chaser had become her breakfast ritual. Hunger burned brighter and she no longer ignored it.
She fed her habits and stole when life became too boring, too predictable. Rich girls get whatever they want. She didn't need to steal, but it was a rush; a way to feel alive. Another escape from that blackness that threatened to consume her.
Alcohol is served at all socialite parties. It's cute to see a seven year old take their first sip of champagne. It's not so cute when that same kid starts stealing bottles and downing them just to fall asleep; to stop the noise in her head. Everything was out of focus and beautiful when she was drunk.
Ryan started to bring back that focus. Brought her out of a state of perpetual confusion. He started to get through the fuzz of life and started making her feel, and now her Mother wanted to take him away? It was so typical. So dark. So cold, like a blanket that can never quite cover her whole body. Like arms that can never quite wrap around her. Like the words "I love you" that never quite seem genuine.
Of all the things she had done to her body and all the tricks she tried out on her mind, nothing made her as scared as Julie Cooper and her nasal whine.
The word Mother sits on her tongue like a curse; like blank nothingness. If they made her go back, if they made her live in blackness, Marissa would have a new tag the next time she was seen...
A toe tag. She wouldn't be suicidal anymore. She'd be dead.
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end.