WEAKNESS

The airy-light trickle of rain on my face was akin to the tears spilt by a bereaved lady; gentle but heavy with emotions. Clouds, so dark and ominous, loomed ahead of me and every once in a while, vivid flashes of light peeked within the mass of darkness above. The lightning, however, was silent, like the terse assassin prowling towards its victim. Everything seemed stillborn as I locked my gaze to the view ahead.

Realization had only begun to dawn on me on that fateful autumn's day. The weather, I mused sardonically, had perhaps decided to reflect the supposed emotion a seven year old girl would experience after losing her mother. Grief, though, was not on the list of emotions I felt.

See, I had just been 'forgiven' by my mother, seconds before she took her last breath. The one distinct feeling gnawing within the caverns of my heart felt more like emptiness. Not even tears accompanied me.

For seven long years I had to bear the accusations of being the reason behind the failure that was my parents' marriage. Maybe I was because for some reason, after I came into the picture, Daddy started to come home late and Mommy was too drunk to care. Somehow, in the midst of the happiness they had built, I came in and shattered it all.

As I stared into the vague horizon, epiphany graced me with its presence. The feeling was faint, slightly warm and inviting. The rush was thin but steadily building up till it took over that empty, empty void which was desperate to be filled.

I was free.

And this was freedom.

I was only seven years and three months old when my mother died. Immediately, I was shipped to Daddy's mansion. He was a busy man, a big shot with so much money; he did not know what to do with his wealth. Nevertheless that had never deterred his workaholic tendencies. Often I wondered what was it about money that made it oh-so was tantalizing to his eyes. I was only nine and my dream was to become money. At least, my innocent mind thought, Daddy would finally look at me.

Throughout my entire stay at the mansion, I daresay my estranged father talked to me only twice a year. His questions were always the same: "How are you doing in school?" Maybe it was out of common courtesy that he was asking said question but each time I answered with a spectacular exam result, he would grunt in acknowledgement. A bad one, however, resulted in ignorance from his part. The first time he elicited a positive response, I was elated. My resolve from then onwards was to get perfect results throughout my entire life. I was a girl of twelve springs when I vowed to myself to become the epitome of perfection.

Up till my seventeenth birthday, my life was in perfect control. I was in perfect control. Daddy acknowledged the effort I've put in, teachers loved me, I was the star of the track team and I was everybody's best friend. I was confident and acknowledged. I was beautiful. More importantly, I was finally loved. There were no more resolves that I had to make, none at all, until one broody Uchiha Sasuke decided to barge into my perfect little world.

Uchiha Sasuke was the not-so typical 'tall, dark and attractive' kind of guy. He was fair with jet black hair and deep, fathomless eyes. They were the shade of ebony. As the Student Body President, it was my duty to welcome him and welcome him I did. He, however, merely spared me a glance before ignoring me throughout the entire time I gave him a tour of St Noble Preparatory Academy.

My friends said it was stupid to obsess over such a small thing. "He must be gay, then," Ino, piped in. I tried to listen, I really did, but I just couldn't and wouldn't let it go. From that moment, everything went downhill.

I went home that evening to find my father in the living rom. I went up to him with the smile which I reserved only for him and told him my good news.

"Daddy, I won the Student Body election,"

I would have told him sooner but he had been away ever since the start of the new term. A grunt from a phone would not suffice. I needed him to look at me.

I needed him to see me.

I waited for his response. None came. He was too busy and too absorbed to give a damn about his own daughter. My body froze as an icy grip got hold of my heart. The smile on my face suddenly felt plastered. My body hollow, I trudged upstairs awkwardly into my room and stared into the mirror for god knows how long.

"LIES!" The voice in my head screamed.

This wasn't perfect. I wasn't perfect.

I looked into the mirror to see a reflection I was not used to seeing. The wild green eyes were too wide, the cheeks too high, limp, pink hair and an ugly, ugly face; marred by streaks of tears. I stripped myself bare and went in front of the full body mirror. The stomach was not flat, my thighs were big, my arms were huge and my whole body practically screamed imperfection. The whole time I stared at the monster in the mirror, my head was chanting a mantra.

"Ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly!"

I wanted to die. My perfect control was gone, obliterated in one sweep. I found no purpose in living. For a second, pen knife in hand, I contemplated suicide.

'No,' I thought. I had it once. I managed to 'tame' my body, my life, into submission. If I did it once, I could do it again. My other half, the breaking (broken?) part of me, was desperate to put an end to that aching, aching weight in my chest. My knuckles were white as I clenched the sharp object in my hand. When I was seventeen, I found the true purpose of a knife.

It was three months later. The crisp winter air was like heaven to my skin. I had just finished five rounds of the field and I was already breathless. I could feel Coach Mitarashi's eyes on me. There was no room for failure so I kept going until she called it quits. "Good job," she smiled at me. Euphoria warmed my body.

The day was going so well and my head was swirling with happiness. Sasuke talked to me today. Sure, he only wanted to borrow a pen but he talked to me and that was good. But it wasn't the 'Sasuke Incident' which got me so up in the air. No, there was something else better.

I rushed home, said "Hi," to Chiiyo, my personal maid, and told her hastily that I was not hungry. I raced up the stairs, removed all article of clothing before stepping on the weighing machine. '45 kg' it read. A progress!

I was seventeen years and two months old when I became anorexic. It wasn't for Daddy or Sasuke or anyone. It was for me to control and bring to subjugation.

People lied, you know. Anorexia wasn't at all a bad thing. It fed me with confidence and motivation. What they didn't lie about was how hard it was at first. It really was and I had to punish myself each time my resolve faltered. Each time I failed, I would cut myself. No where conspicuous of course so I settled for my thighs. The physical pain masked the jabs in my chest. It felt good like the first time two months prior. Soon enough I was no longer dependent on the blade.

Fast forward three months later, however, it was not the case. I could not take it. I was too stressed. My coach was not happy with the fact that I was lagging behind and I was constantly sleepy in class. My only solace was the admiration for my physical being by my contemporaries. I thought I could live with that but the other part of me did not see it that way.

Depression was a funny thing. I did not realize what I was doing until I parked my car in front of a local grocery store, took a cart and filled it in with bags of potato chips, chocolates, hamburgers and two tubs of ice cream. "Having a party?" the cashier winked. I could only nod in response.

I lined my food, all in a row and an hour later, only wrappers and empty containers were left, strewn all over the floor in my room. Crumbs and brown smudges dusted my face and clothes. I had never felt so sick in my life. Not just with my rotten inner self but with my physical outlook as well. I was sobbing like mad. The voice in my head was condescending. 'You're disgusting and weak,'

I crawled into my bathroom, propped up the seat and stuck my index finger into my throat so deeply that I gagged. That was exactly what I wanted. I heaved and heaved until every last content in my stomach was gone. My throat was burning and my eyes were misty but I kept on until there was nothing else coming out. The taste of bile in my throat was disgusting but now I knew what to do. I won't have any excuse to look ugly anymore.

I was 18, dancing at my prom. Things were back to perfect. That night I was a princess. A beautiful princess. Everybody marvelled and gushed at my gown, my body and my whole self. Sasuke was my date that night. After so long, he finally included me in his inner circle. There was nothing in the world that would ruin my night. 'Nothing,' my head whispered triumphantly.

But as I twirled in the dark-haired enigma's arms, vertigo swept over me and I swayed a little. I could feel a pair of callous hands stabilizing my body but everything suddenly became a blur. There were incoherent voices ringing in my ear as I saw the room spin. Flashes of lights of so many hues invaded my senses. It was so blinding.

And just as suddenly as the lights came darkness began to take over.

It was faint, the beeping of the monitor. The strong smell of chemicals hung thickly in the air. I heard muffled voices; small but loud.

"...very sick...liver failure... dying...,"

Everything was just noisy, too loud, and I just wanted to sleep. The beeping was still there, incessant and overbearing as ever.

'Oh, god, just make it stop. Please,' my head pleaded.

And suddenly it was all silent.

Forever.

Hello, folks! First of all, I can't update For the Love of Calories yet. It's not cancelled, I assure you. I just have obligations. And stuff. But in due time, people.

Second. Okay, this was a spur of the moment thing. I just batched it up so it probably sounds half-assed and all. But since I've written the whole thing, I might as well post it on here. Tragedy just does not suit me. At all. I lack depression and woe.