TRIGGER WARNING!
I apologize for not updating anything lately. School has been a lot harder than I expected it to be. But anyway, I felt like writing a one-shot about what I think is going on with Imogen. I always wondered why she acted the way she did and was intrigued by her wristband, and I ended up just building off of that little idea I had. So I really hope you guys enjoy this short little one-shot!
Cycle
She wants to be perfect.
She looks in the mirror, and she hates who looks back at her. Her hair lies flat against her face, a dull mousy brown. Her face shines with the sweat and oil most teenagers produce, and her eyes sink back into her face, dark and invisible so that nobody can read her.
Nobody notices her. She tells herself that she likes it that way. She doesn't need friends; friends are overrated. Family? No, she doesn't care if her parents are around or not. She never has.
But still, she wants to be perfect.
X
When her eyes first see his hearse pull into the parking lot, she becomes infatuated with him. She finds his air of cynicism fascinating, and his wit seems to work on her like a charm. (Not that he's ever spoken to her before.)
She hasn't met him or talked to him yet, but she knows who he is.
Elijah Goldsworthy.
X
She doesn't want to be perfect anymore.
She needs to be.
X
But she doesn't have enough time.
Clare Edwards took him with her perfect blue eyes and her perfect curls and her perfect curves and her perfect skin.
She hates her.
X
She looks in the mirror and pokes at the fat on her body. She's straight as a stick, but she is ballooning.
She is huge.
Why can't she have the curves of Clare Edwards? Would he look at her if he could see her curves in her? If she had her bright blue eyes? If she had her short curls?
X
Her body convulses once more before stilling. She shivers, the cold of the porcelain toilet pressing against her collarbone. It stings, and she sits back. Her legs brush against the plush rug, warming her briefly. She wraps her arms around her naked body, cradling herself the way her mother never used to.
She needs to develop curves, a better body at least.
She needs them.
The voice in her head tells her Eli won't want her unless she can be like Clare.
Her stomach growls with hunger, but no, she can't eat. She can't let herself grow any bigger.
X
He is finally apart from Clare Edwards.
After months of craving for calories, of listening to the voices tell her that she's no good, that she'll never get him -
She finally has a shot.
X
She has finally accepted that she can't look like the Saint. Not that she really wanted to anyway. Instead, she does things that she knows will get his attention.
She does things with her hair, making it outrageous and sure to stand out. She looks for clothes that'll match his style - and maybe a few dresses similar to the ones Clare Edwards wears.
(She may need them just incase all else fails.)
Her new clothes and make-up are outlandish, crazy even, but hopefully they'll catch his eye and distract him from her ugly, large, uncurvy body.
The voices in her head tell her this will work.
X
She slips two fingers into her mouth and clutches the white toilet, her redemption. It digs into her skin as her body lurches forward, and she watches as clear liquid spills out of her mouth and into the toilet. She hasn't eaten anything in weeks, but she needs to punish herself and punish the voices in her head.
She made herself look stupid in front of him. She let slip how much she knew about him. How much he meant to her. She would need to redeem herself somehow.
X
She rewards herself with a cookie.
A large, soft cookie that oozes chocolate and is super sweet. It makes her throat burn when she swallows it and sends a rush of warmth through her as it settles in her stomach.
210 calories that she'll have to get rid of later. She's not too concerned about that now though. Not when she's finally gotten Eli Goldsworthy to notice her.
X
She's been letting herself eat a little more each time she takes a step forward.
Skipping school with him? A 150 calorie Rice Crispy treat.
Going out for coffee? A 243 calorie brownie.
Getting him to move on from Clare? A Big Mac from McDonald's.
She could feel herself slowly gaining weight.
X
She didn't realize that in helping him become free from his medication and Clare that he wouldn't need her anymore. She thought she had gotten closer to him, gained his friendship. But he dismisses her, pretends that she doesn't know what he thinks and how he feels, that she doesn't know his darkest secrets.
It wounds her, even though she keeps up her quirky attitude around him. She loses all progress, and the voices tell her that she needs to punish herself.
Not only does she purge more, but she unscrews the razors from her razor blade. She holds the shiny metal in her hand, cold to the touch, and they are almost impossible to pick up. Her face is blank, impassive as she runs them across her wrist. The metal bites at her skin, leaving trails of red behind it.
She feels ashamed.
X
She finds it ironic how she is begging Clare to teach her to be like her. Months ago she had wanted that, but in making Eli forget about her, she couldn't bring her back up. But she needs the help, she needs this role.
She needs to win him over.
X
The kiss sets her on fire. She wants more, so much more, but she needs to be professional. She needs to leave him wanting more.
X
"We're not together."
The words repeat in her head over and over, and the voices are mocking her, taking on his voice and degrading her. They say these words incessantly as she stumbles into the bathroom stall, clumsily locking the door behind her.
She leans over the porcelain object, slipping her fingers into her mouth, but nothing comes out. She's dry heaving; there's nothing for her to force up. She hasn't eaten since almost a month ago.
She reaches into her backpack, looking for her new favorite obsession. She pulls the razor out of her pencil case, pulling back her sleeve. She runs the smooth metal against her skin, a shaky breath of relief escaping her lips. She does it a few more times, leaving criss-crosses on her wrist.
She hears the first warning bell, and she scrambles to put her stuff away. She pulls a black and red plaid wristband from her bag and slips it over cuts, hissing at the pain.
It's a never ending cycle.
X
This continues repeatedly.
Her wrists are scarred beyond belief, and when she looks into the mirror, she can count her ribs.
She doesn't realize how wrong this all is until the day he snaps.
She looks at herself in the mirror and hates herself. Not because she's not perfect, but because of why she was slowly killing herself. She makes a vow to herself now. She will no longer be a bomb, waiting to self-destruct. She will finally cut him out of her life - for she was obviously never a true part of his - and not live to please him.
She wants to get better (what even is better?) for herself.
X
He apologizes.
She knows she should turn him down. Reject him. He has hurt her too many times to be forgiven.
But she never could resist those green eyes.
She forces a smile while the voices in her head are chiming in a smug tone.
"And so the cycle begins again."
Author's Note: Well, what does everybody think? A good enough story to make up for my lack of updates? I hope so! I'll try my best to update The Girl and/or Don't Let Me Go soon! 3 Review, please! :)