DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, but duh, it's a fanfic.
a/n: this story takes place way back in the day. When Paige was raped, she didn't tell anyone, not Hazel, or Ashley, or . She took a different route in trying to console herself, and heal the scars that Dean left.
When did it start? I remember it perfectly. It all started when I was just a small, naïve, niner. Degrassi won the soccer game that we we're cheering for, but I was less interested in the game, and more interested in him. Dean. I met him while he was on the bus about to leave and he invited me to a party at his friend's house. Spinner had already asked me to go out with him, but I didn't want Spinner, I wanted Dean.
So me and Hazel spent the day getting ready for this party. I wanted to look sexy for him; I didn't want to come off as a young, inexperienced, naïve, niner, what I really was. And it worked. Dean invited me upstairs after I asked him to go somewhere more quiet, if I had known what was going to happen, I would ran away as fast s I could, and never looked back. But I didn't know, so I followed him upstairs into that bedroom.
At first Dean took it slow, like I asked him to, and I was entirely fine with making out on the messy bed. But then Dean's hand went up my shirt, and it freaked me out, but I got over it. Then he started getting a little rough and I told him to stop. And he did stop; he stopped long enough to pull a condom out of his pocket. My eyes bulged and I told him no. But he didn't listen, he just pushed me down, and well, you know the rest…
But Dean raping me isn't what I'm here to talk about. It's what happened after the incident that put me where I am today. After Dean got dressed and left me there, naked and in tears, my head was spinning. I put my clothes back on, but felt disgusting. There was this feeling growing in the pit of my stomach that I couldn't explain. But all the feelings and thought that were whirling about inside my head was too much. I ran to the bathroom, and got rid of the feeling. I threw up everything that was inside me until I felt empty. And with the emptiness came a calm feeling. All the craziness going on inside me was gone, and I felt better.
I got up from the floor, flushed the toilet, and cleaned myself up. When I left the bathroom, no one expected anything, assuming I just had way too much to drink. It felt good that I could fool them. But when I was walking home, the calmness eventually faded, and I had realized what had happened. I didn't want to feel the shame, the guilt, the dirtiness, the anger. All of it was too much. So when I got home, I raided the fridge and stuffed my face, until I could no longer feel anything but the pain in stomach from too much food. Then I just leaned over the sink and got rid of it all. I smiled when I the emptiness and calm came. I ran the disposal before heading up to bed, thanking God that no one was home. And when I fell asleep, I felt nothing.
And that's when it started. That my friend, is where I, Paige Michalchuk, began my struggle with bulimia.