A tear falls down my face as I stare in the mirror at my bloated stomach, a bruise creeps up the side of my hip, a scratch under my breast. I hear the door open behind me and I see him staring at me. That same dirty stare he's given me my entire life. My stomach jolts rapidly and I hear the familiar grumble. I sigh reluctantly and pull my shirt down to face whatever he's planning on doing this time.
He ruined my life. He is my father. Sometimes I wish I will stop breathing in my sleep just so I won't wake up to see him ever again. It might knock some sense into my mother too. I don't have enough courage to kill myself. I do however have enough to starve myself.
I'm not fat. I know I'm not, but if I was thinner I might be noticed more. I know I should really have more sense, I know what I'm doing is wrong, but the control I have is incredible.
His hands clasp my hips and he whispers "Beautiful." in my ear. I don't pull away anymore. I'm far too weak, so instead I let him kiss my neck and then I pass out. I always pass out. I don't have the energy to do anything anymore.
Then I wake up, my clothes trashed across the room, and he's gone; he's always gone. So I stand shakily and reclaim my body, my vision goes dark so often now. every time I stand up my head spins. I've lost so much weight it scares me, I see the ribs that stick through my pale, wobbly skin. I want to stop but the voice inside my head keeps telling me to continue. It keeps telling me to fight, somebody is bound to notice me eventually.
Then I wonder if killing myself is the best thing -what if I killed him instead? Would that change all my problems? Would it change all her problems? My mom that is. I still don't know why she's clinging onto him. My friends have disowned me. Even Tom. He keeps saying I look ill. I am ill. So when I shrug and say I'm fine why doesn't he comfort me anymore? He's gotten bored of me.
My clothes no longer fit, so I'm forced to wear the same combats and t-shirts I've owned since I was 13. Somebody is bound to notice me.