Trigger warning- purging and binge eating.
I'm sorry I started the story, and then fell off the face of the earth. Here is a second chapter- I hope you like it.
My stomach cramped , there was a sour taste in my mouth and my nails scratched the back of my mouth when I, as quickly as I could pulled my hand out of my mouth when the gagging reflexes turned on and I heaved over the toilet bowl. Tears were burning in my eyes, I hated doing this… But I needed to, I needed to.
As soon as the gagging stopped I flushed the toilet and put my hand into my mouth, pushing my fingers as far back as I could, it tickled my throat and I heaved again. Once against scratching the back of my mouth.
At last, when I was left with painful dry heaves wrenching my whole body I accepted there was nothing left to be brought up and I flushed the toilet and stood up to wash my hands.
"Maya…" Someone knocked the door. "Is that you?"
I didn't answer verbally, only unlocked the door and opened it. Then leaned against the door frame while that bald, old care worker backed away to get away from that sour smell from my mouth but still felt my forehead.
"I'm fine…" I tried… "We had some sausages back at Stonewall care home before I left this morning and I don't think they agreed with my stomach really."
"Come on…" Mike laid a hand on my shoulder and led me through the hallway. "It might sound weird. But sometimes when someone here is ill we usually let them lay down in the attic. That will give them more privacy than in the room they have to share. The attic is right here…" He opened a door and showed me up some stairs. "There is a sofa and…" He picked up a great cardboard box and then put it hard down on the floor. "You could use that for a bedside table. I'll go get a bucket and a glass of water. I'll put your things in your room… Is there something else you need?"
"No thank you."
I stared into the ceiling until Mike came with the things, and then came back up with the glass of water and the bucket… And then I just laid there and felt sorry for myself.
One might not think that what I did was a rightful mess. After all, I spent the day doing nothing at all. Switching in between staring into the ceiling, reading a book I had found on a shelf written by some Tracy Beaker, and dreaming away wishing I had never gotten into this mess. Because it was the mess- and it was the biggest mess I had ever been in. Including the four times my dad had tried to kill me.
As soon as anyone knocked on the door and came upstairs I just pretended to be sleeping or something. Once I could hear Mike's voice and could feel him feeling my forehead to sense if I had a fever, but carefully. He was afraid he would wake me up. And while he left the room I pretended to be sleeping again, but somewhere in all of that I must have fallen asleep for real.
"Here…" I flinched awake and looked up finally when May-Li had come upstairs and said something, I could hear her put a plate down next to me. "… It's just some toast and butter. You need to eat something." I sat up and stared onto the toast that was burned black and the butter was melted. "All the others have gone to bed, I'm going now. Come and get me if you get sick again or you need anything."
For a few minutes I just laid there and listened. Listened closely while I heard there was still waken, moving and life downstairs. Then a door closed and a bed creaked, and at last I couldn't hear anything more. I listened for a few more minutes and then, when I was as certain as I possibly could that nobody would hear me I reached for the plate May-Li had turned on that box and the first piece of toast.
Not until I took the first bite of the burned toast I felt how my stomach grumbled with hunger. I had meant to make it last as long as possible and then finally go to bed but after what felt like, and probably even was a few seconds the first piece was gone and it wasn't long before the second too, and the glass of water, warm and disgusting after standing on that bedside table- well, that cardboard carton box all day.
But I was still hungry afterwards. And now I felt I was hungry I was really hungry. I was hungry for more, I needed more.
I tried to tell myself that what happened last time I felt like this wouldn't happy again. I did learn something for every time it happened and maybe this would be the time… Yes, I could remain control this time. And with that, I stood up and tip-toed down the stairs and to the kitchen.
As quietly, but as fast as I could I opened the kitchen cupboards and later on the fridge. Put a pack of crackers and some chocolate biscuits in one pocket on my shirt, found a bottle of Pepsi and put it in the other, made some sandwiches with jam and grabbed a can of 7-up before I, still as quietly as I could walked back upstairs. And the whole way up to the attic.
As soon as I had sat down I stopped and listened closely. I hadn't woken anybody up had I?
But the house remained silent and after a few minutes I opened the bottle of Pepsi and the pack of crackers. I kept on telling myself that now, today would be the day (or night) when I could remain control of myself.
I chewed up another salt cracker and then I was done. I had lost control all along. One more cracker, Pepsi, two chocolate biscuits, a sandwich, the whole can of 7-up, more crackers. And I did it at a pace I couldn't have gotten back control if I tried my very hardest.
And not until the very last sip of 7-up was gone I stopped and realized what I had done.
I was as good as hyperventilating and could just as well have woken the whole house up while I hurried down the stairs and then spent a few minutes of being disoriented before I ran out into the back garden and ran into a shed, I needed to find something, I needed to find something… and something obviously was a metal, gardening bucket.
My throat burned and a part of me screamed at me to stop what I was doing while I shoved my hand as far back into my mouth as I could and heaved over the bucket. My stomach cramped and tears were rising in my eyes, tears of disgust, of disappointment- if I could only keep control next time…
Next time…
No, there wouldn't be a next time.
I forced myself not to stick my fingers into my mouth again, then grabbed the metal edge of the bucket to turn around and empty it among the trees in the garden. If anyone found out about this it would cause a lot of trouble. And then there really wouldn't be a next time- and as much as I hated doing what I did. I needed to, I needed to.
I needed to, I needed to, I needed to.
"What are you doing?"
So… Maya's bulimic. And then she spent the day pretending to be ill to be left of her own and she ate whatever she could find. Then went outside in the garden and the shed and now there's someone who saw her… this really is a whole lot of mess. And the rest, you'll have to wait until next time for.
Random fact
Purging/ binge eating or anything like that I luckily have no own experiences off. I hope I'm writing it okay…
