Author's Note: Yeh, I know I said this was a two-parter...but I figured this would go better here, in the prequel, than in the new story. New story will be delayed a couple of days because of this. And whoever told me what the difference between anorexia and bulimia was, thank you, but I know that already. Believe me, I know.
"Summer, everything all right in there?" Summer listened, horrified, to her father's banging on the door.
"Yeah Dad, just girl stuff. You know," she replied weakly, patting Marissa's back.
"Okay, princess. Let me know if you want Bridget's help."
Summer sighed. She'd never ask her dad's latest arm candy, Bridget, for help. She'd never ask anyone for help because she was supposed to be Marissa's help.
"You're gonna be okay," she told Marissa, but was actually speaking to herself as well. She couldn't handle this anymore, this quiet fire burning in the back of her mind and Marissa's throat.
Marissa coughed; she was finished. Summer stood up to flush the toilet but Marissa gently laid a hand on her. She shook her head fiercely. Summer sat back down on her bathroom floor and waited.
Marissa coughed again and blood specks flew into the toilet. Determined, she stuck one finger, two fingers down her aching throat and began to dry heave. A little bit of blood came out each time.
Summer watched with horror, frozen numb with fear. She'd been silent for too long. Marissa began to try, clutching her throat and whimpering a little. Summer reached over her and flushed the toilet. The remains of popcorn, ice cream, a hamburger, and two Oreo milkshakes, not to mention some carrot sticks, mixed with the blood and were washed away.
Marissa shook her head. Summer was too good to her. She didn't deserve a friend like Summer, a friend who was there to hold her hair back, to flush the toilet, to say nothing but mean everything.
She felt her throat burn with a new ferocity; it was harder to ignore than ever before. She looked at the full length mirror on the back of Summer's bathroom door, not quite shocked to see her bloodshot eyes.
Marissa was sick of this, of her need to bow to the ceramic goddess two, three times a day. She knew she was destroying the lining of her esophagus, not to mention her health. She wanted to not care; she'd been doing a pretty good job up until now. Done with pretending she didn't hurt inside, pretending that this was not a battle of wills, a battle to win a war she'd lost long ago.
Summer's eyes spoke multitudes of wisdom, conveying feelings that were better left unsaid.
You need help, the eyes spoke to Marissa once.
A second time, I'm scared, Marissa, I don't think I can help you.
I'm just a kid, this is out of my league, I don't want to lose you but I know you don't want help.
The eyes pleaded with Marissa, glittering brown orbs of helplessness, of uncertainty.
Don't make me keep this secret too, said the eyes, don't do this to me.
It's destroying you, they told her, but admitted, this is destroying me too.
Marissa wanted to relieve Summer of her silent burden, but knew she couldn't. She'd come too far to let go on her own, and Summer wouldn't give it up unless she did.
She'd been silent too long.
Like a ghost Summer's eyes haunted her, needing answers but finding none in the lifeless eyes of Marissa. Summer couldn't find the answers in the puke-like smell she associated with Marissa now, and she certainly couldn't see in that swirl of food.
Marissa had been silent too long, but Summer was guilty of the lack of words as well. The unspoken words between them had been steadily drawing them closer together, entwining them, making sure they'd never come undone.
It was time to let loose the weights of their young souls.
It was time to speak the unspeakables.
"Idontwanttodothisanymore," Marissa blurted out, words jumbled together in an incoherent mess. Her life was a mess; it was only fitting.
"What?" Summer asked, hardly daring to believe her ears. Marissa was speaking. They'd never been able to talk about what went on in the various bathrooms they frequented. Never.
"I don't want to dothisanymore," Marissa repeated, a hint of confidence in her voice. Raising it, she said again, "I don't want to do this anymore!"
Summer knew that it wouldn't be quite so easy as saying those seven words. But it would definitely help. "I can help you with that," she said, forcing the next words out of her mouth, "But I can't keep quiet if you continue to purge. Marissa—look at me Marissa—you're my best friend. I can't have anything happen to you. What would I do?" She blinked; tears had sprung to her eyes.
Marissa nodded. Sometimes saying the unspeakable was easier. She felt her heart open just a little bit, with the pressure of unspoken words lifted off her chest. "I know," she said, "I want my life back." And it was true. She'd lost it to bulimia, to the ceramic goddess, too many months ago.
Marissa felt tears in her eyes and her throat burn as she choked up. "I can't…let it take me forever…I don't want to lose myself…"
Summer rocked her quietly then, knowing that the worst wasn't over and the road to recovery would be filled with speed bumps, but it was okay now.