It was late dusk, and the sun was out and the Goldsworthy's had a beautiful view from the back porch. However, no one was outside to look at it, either it was too cold or no one was in a mood.
Eli certainly wasn't. He'd sat at his desk with his head down all day. Nothing to do, he was irrevocably tired, he was hoping he'd fall asleep at that desk but something was keeping him awake. He was hoping to get to check out any tech positions at the Star Kirov. He attempted to go for a walk earlier but barley made it 4 inches off his door step. Then why the hell he never got in bed if he wanted to sleep he didn't know.
Damn…that is lazy.
He sat up, swiping his bangs out of his eyes and looked out his window, the top, hood, trunk and window shield of Morty were all covered in layers of snow. He remembered the last time he tried to drive Morty in snow…yep, Morty was not cooperative when it was cold.
Had he eaten? He kept asking himself. He didn't care, it wasn't like one day of skipping was going to starve him. If was still five, he and his dad would be having a snowball war outside right now. Thing was, that was 11 years ago, and neither one gave a fuck about the snow. As much as he really wanted one to get his mind off things right now, he wasn't going to.
Grandma's gone, I'm slowly loosing my family, Clare's slipping away, and Jake.
What was the deal with Jake anyway? Doesn't he know Clare has a boyfriend?
Or…had?
That was a bad thought, what if he and Clare were broken up and he didn't realize it? It wasn't his fault! Well…not all his fault. God damn, he hoped it wasn't over that little anniversary thing. Hell, they weren't even talking. Well…kind of, if shooting each other looks counted.
He looked over on the side of his desk, he saw his phone in the wall charging. He unplugged it and entered his lock code. His wallpaper was skulls…not surprising to him.
He looked through some of his photos. Mainly random pictures his dad took when he was able to get a hand of Eli's phone. It was either pictures of some of the projects he did on the house to send to relatives…or show off. Then the pictures of Eli were either him, ducking or hiding his face from the camera. The one he did get Eli, he was on the couch with a soda in his hand about to laugh. Next to him he saw Adam, holding a Play Station controller…he began to remember why he was laughing when looking at how intense Adam's face was.
Gota' win Gota' win Gota' win! he thought.
He remembered, he invited Adam over to play video games. While Eli was used to the hilarious random shootings and dying hard, Adam was competitive.
Even Eli was frightened by that side.
When they played Soul Calibur IV an older, fighting game Eli used to play every day with his dad, Adam went berserk. When Eli was about to win, Adam made sure his character died, hard.
He remembered Adam cheering for himself and screaming he won at Eli. Eli then remembered it like it was yesterday.
"Calm down man…it's just a game." he was on the verge of laughter on that point.
"Another round? If you can handle it!"
"…sure…"
God, no wonder Adam was his best friend. Nice, funny and quiet at school, INSANE outside of school. There was no other like him he guessed.
He heard the door open downstairs, he heard a male voice. He pushed himself away from his desk and walked out to the stairwell. He looked down from the railing, it was his uncle on his dad's side.
He saw his mother hug him, as his father looked at him.
Oh God.
They haven't talked since Danny got arrested. They shook hands, his father asked him how he was doing. Eli could feel the awkward all the way from upstairs. He saw his uncle look at him as he and his father hugged, Eli kept a neutral mask and walked back into his room. The sun was almost gone. Nothing but darkness. The sky, no stars, moonlight covered by clouds.
As Eli's life was at that point.
No answers, no hints, just darkness.
Clare went for another 6 AM walk. Only it was more of a run. She ran through her whole neighborhood, not missing a single street. She was wrapped up in jackets again, jeans hugging her legs and squeezing her thighs, mittens smothering her hands. She stopped, her heart was pounding, she stopped and caught her breath. She checked the time on her phone, 6:52. She caught her breath for a few more seconds, then ran back to the cul-de-sac where her house was.
Right as she finished getting back into her 'pajamas' her mother walked in.
"Your up early."
"Rehearsal tomorrow is on the stage. I want to practice."
"Ok." she sighed, "Your working so hard…your dad and I are really proud of you."
Clare smiled, "Really?"
"Yes."
Clare smiled brightly, so perfect…show was in…8 days. 8 more days, and her parents would be on their first date again it would be like.
"I'm sorry again Clare but at 11:30 we have another appointment, long drive, big house…"
"Oh…well I'll stay here."
"Work out?"
Clare nodded, it was always her answer. "Yup."
"Alright. Come have some breakfast."
Clare jumped on the inside, "I will…I want to shower and change…maybe work out before I do."
Her mother raised a suspicious eyebrow, but then she shrugged it off before walking out, "Ok."
She walked out, Clare was about to put on the Nutcracker soundtrack but her mother walked back in, "Don't skip meals." she said making positive Clare understood her.
"Yes Ma'am." Clare breathed.
Her mother smiled before walking out for the last time.
-X-
Clare didn't eat. She was stretching, doing her sit ups, and sweating like a pig. The songs finished by Clare continued her sit ups. She did 22. Proud, Clare sat up, her chest stomach and back ached. Her thighs started to hurt as well. She pulled herself up and back down to the master,
109.3
19 pounds…it was almost impossible to loose it in one day.
To hell with it, it was impossible.
It was 10:45. She promised her mom she'd eat…but what mom doesn't know won't hurt her. Her mom was suspicious when she didn't come down for lunch or dinner.
Maybe if she exercised all day, then the entire time before rehearsal the next day she'd be 95...
Oh screw it, she'd be lucky to reach 100 pounds.
Back to stretching she told her self, stretching, nothing but sweat she thought. It was all that had to be on her mind. She replayed the album 3 times as she stretched, twirled and sweat. No breaks, no nothing.
She remembered she started seeing a difference when she looked in the mirror…her arms were a bit bonier than they should be… she could see her hip bones clearly when she laid on her back. That's how ballerinas are supposed to look she figured. Bony, thin and quite scary looking. However, they danced so beautifully.
After 30 minutes of stretching, she was nothing but exhausted, sweated down, and wobbly. She finally paused for a second. Going down for some water. She doubted after half an hour she lost anything besides a few ounces. She was afraid of the weight scale, the less weight she lost with the amount of time she had, the more stressed she got.
She went upstairs to stretch some more, however after the first two steps, she stumbled on…well nothing. She fell to her knees, trying not to spill he water. Her hand was still on the stair rail. She breathed heavily as she pulled herself up. She struggled to make it back up the stairs. When she got to her room, she immediately ran to her bed, slamming her cup on her desk, burying her face into the pillow. Trying to ease her nausea.
She laid there for a while, trying to slow her heart beat. She kept sighing every once in a while, she got a half-light headed half headache feeling. No amount of water would make it go away. As she went downstairs to get more water, she knelt down, reaching for a snack bar, then she pulled her hand away.
Absolutely NO calories is what would loose the weight. She checked the scale,
108.7
Only 18 more…Come on Edwards! Don't let a little nausea run you down!
Just a quick shower she thought. Hot water would help her. She stood there, scrubbing her skin bright pink and muscles relieved as the pain in her body slowly gave in. But that didn't mean the nausea went away, as Clare could barely stand. She opened the sliding shower door, getting down on her knees sticking her head out, and opening the toilet bowl. She was going to she thought. Nausea this bad only meant one thing.
She could've sworn she stood there for five minutes and nothing. Just nausea, taunting her and mocking her. She switched the water off and stepped out, drying her self completely before putting on the warmer, comfier clothes she picked out. She laid on her bed. Thinking of what to do.
She knew what she was doing to herself was bad for her, she knew what horrible damage she could do to her body inside and out. But what was more important at the time, keeping her body in shape, or keeping her parents together?
She stared at the ceiling…
After a good minute of two, she stood up and put on the album once again, stretching…and struggling.
Eli didn't sleep the night before. First he laid down, tossed and turned for an hour, then he could hear these two drunk people outside of his house on the street yelling at each other who has the car keys, tossed and turned some more. He did fall into a deep, dreamless sleep for about an hour but then for some reason, had something unknown on his mind when he woke up, then stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night until dawn.
He was now at his desk, looking out at everything of his window, the snow was falling beautifully that day, calmly and slowly, he watched the flakes build piles outside his house. He was also listening to his father have long talks with his uncle. They mentioned nothing about Daniel or Josh. In fact, they just talked about memories, things they did as children, the time when either one of them was drunk at a family reunion and how they made a fool of themselves.
They were laughing.
Eli knew they were awkward, forced laughs. His mother had gone out, she said she'd leave the boys alone while she did some shopping.
By shopping, she either meant house accessories or groceries.
Eli wanted to be alone however. He wished he was alone. He wished he and his dad would go out and leave him, whether they noticed or not. He had a knot in his stomach again, he didn't want to think about Clare or the ballet right then, he didn't want to think about the guilt of not crying with his parents when his grandmother passed, of not talking to them.
He felt like…dirt.
He felt like he wasn't even a part of his family anymore, all because one person died. Because one person won't listen, because one person doesn't have the strength.
Great…he thought.
I am the family pessimist…
And it sucked. It really made him feel like a piece of shit.
Back at home, Clare had stretched for another fifteen minutes, her body finally gave in and couldn't take it any more. She wobbled down the stairs, it was 12:34, her parents should be on their way home by then. She walked into the downstairs bathroom and to the weight scale,
107.7
17...only 17.
Maybe she'd insist she go for a walk later. Until then, sit ups…nothing…but. However, she almost fell simply stepping off the scale. Maybe a nap. Just a small nap she thought.
"Clare?" her mom called, Randall closed the door behind her, her mom walked upstairs to see her, Clare was resting on her bed. There was reddish skin under her eyes…showing her she was tired. She walked in and gently kissed her head before walking downstairs to write up her report.
About 20 minutes later, a little power nap as she called it, Clare was up again, the nausea was long gone and she felt as if she had been given a new pair of arms and legs.
"Ok…" she mumbled to herself, "Back to work."
She trotted down the stairs, dressed in warm, winter clothes, she walked into the office, "Mom, dad?"
Her mom turned from her chair, "Clare, I see your up from your nap?"
"Yeah, after breakfast I worked out then I got tired I guess."
Her mother wasn't mentioning the noticeable difference in Clare's figure, the bony, almost skeletal outline of her arms, Clare's chest and stomach literally seemed to be shrinking inward. And down her back when Clare was in a tank top earlier, her mother could barely see her spinal cord going down her back. And she wasn't bending down or anything. But she didn't mention it to Clare.
"I'm going for a walk, I wont leave the neighborhood." she began to exit the house.
"Alright be safe!"
Clare was already outside.
She was running. She seemed to run out of breath after 15 seconds however. She had to continuously stop and catch it. She stopped about 6 times before she reached the other side of the neighborhood. By the time she did reach it however, she was almost on her knees, wheezing, breathless, she felt as if her lungs were being crushed. She started to walk back to the cul-de-sac but she tried to run again, she eventually got into it, heart racing, barely any sweat due to the snow but she was trying. By the time she got back to her house, she fell to her knees out on the front porch. Dizzy, exhausted, clutching her chest she breathed in and out. Just out of breath she thought,
Just…breathless.
She slowly picked herself up and opened the door. Still out of breath, she closed the door behind her, "I'm back."
"Already? That was quick."
"Yeah," she replied with a huff of breath.
"You ok?"
"Yeah!" she wobbled into the kitchen, "Just, thirsty."
She got another cup from the cabinet, filling it with water not bothering with the ice and drinking it in one sup. Her heart still raced, she took off her heavy jacket and walked into the bathroom.
105
Just 105. 15...15 more pounds. It was 2:02 in the afternoon, Rehearsal was at 1 the next day, 23 more hours to weigh 90 pounds. She'd do it even if she had to stay up all night.
She walked upstairs. She didn't put on any music. She did sit ups. 25 she told herself. 25 sit ups.
By sit up number 4 however, she was in immense pain. As if she had been exercising for hours.
Wait…
She pushed herself, no matter how she felt like her bones were going to shatter. She was on 9.
She began counting aloud, no matter how badly her muscles were probably tearing and shredding.
19...
20...
21...
Four more…she was drenched in sweat, she felt like she was going to pass out if she moved, let alone breathed.
Fuck, it hurt to breath at the moment.
22...
23...
She held her breath,
24!
She felt like she made a huge accomplishment, 24 sit ups without collapsing. She took her water cup from her desk and sipped it. She stood up, sitting on her bed, bouncing a little. She wiped the sweat from her hair. She desperately felt the need for another shower.
No more checking the weight scale until tonight!
She'd spend hours exercising, stretching, doing anything 15 more pounds in 23 hours she kept screaming inside her head. She then said 13 more sit ups and back to stretching.
15 minutes of stretching,
30 minutes of stretching,
A fucking hour and five minutes of stretching,
Clare's arms and legs needed the break, but she wouldn't let them. She hadn't eaten lunch, and dinner would be in a couple hours,
Sorry mom…I can't.
She sat at her desk, she hadn't mentioned the weight loss issue to Alli or Jake. She picked up her phone…she wasn't going to. She put it down, after a minute of relaxation, she forced herself back to the floor.
Sit ups were giving her the most sweat. Right underneath the heater in a jacket.
How many more?
Whenever she felt like she was going to collapse her mind answered. And there she went.
xXx
She ended up doing 14 sit ups, before hopping in the shower again. The total of sit ups she did all day added up to over 50.…only an insane person would do that Clare thought. She was exhausted. By 8 that night, Clare stretched some more, now deeming herself the workaholic.
Her mother called her down several times for dinner and she always said, "when I'm done." She was soaked in sweat again, making the last shower completely pointless. The album finished for the seventh time. She stopped, she was about to put it on replay once again but her mom walked in,
"Clare,"
She didn't move from the music player, she scrolled it all the way to the first song again, "Yeah?"
"Dinner?"
"In a sec. When I'm done."
"Honey," she walked inside, "This isn't good for you!"
"I know." she was about to hit play but she set it down, "But, I have to or I'm out of show!"
"You don't have to do anything!" her mother fought back.
Clare didn't want to argue with her mom. Especially if that's what her plan was to avoid. "Yes I do."
"Clare, your overwhelming yourself with this, take a little break."
"I did."
"Longer than 3 minutes Clare."
Clare wiped her bangs out of her eyes, she smirked at her mom, "Ok…I'll be down in a second."
She was down alright, after 4 more hours down in the bathroom on the weight scale, she covered her eyes. It was 9 at night, hours and hours of putting her sweat, blood and tears into loosing the weight. She uncovered them,
95.9
5 more. After nearly 12 hours straight of exercising, she hoped something good would happen. She's stay up as long as she could to get rid of the five pounds.
Her parents how ever were going to sleep, Clare wouldn't play music, she kept her door closed with nothing but her lamp on. The silence was peaceful. She did her stretches for an hour, 11 at night…the scale again…it had to be it…
93.2
Damn it…Clare couldn't. She couldn't stretch anymore, another sit up and a muscle would tear for sure. Something else…something had to be done…one last thing…
She closed the door, opening the toilet bowl. She tied her hair back.
She leaned over, looking straight inside the toilet, hands clutching her stomach. She opened her mouth wide, she thrusted, she didn't feel anything, she tried harder, as her mouth began to involuntarily open wider than it should.
She made retched hacking noises as her throat felt clogged, her body began to violently twitch, as she thrusted inward harder. She let go of her stomach and grabbed both edges of the bowl. She hacked harder and harder, she tried. She hacked and coughed until finally, she retched violently into the toilet.
She breathed in, tears falling out of her eyes, she thrusted even more vomiting twice as much. Her ribs squeezed her stomach, as her body ached and pleaded for mercy. Not even stopping for a break, she thrusted inward, vomiting even more, wiping her mouth with a wet towel. Wiping her tears.
3 pounds…
3 vomits…
She checked the weight scale.
90.1.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Disgusted by her new body.
Arms, skinny, weak and limp.
Then this was the first part, she lifted her shirt.
Her stomach was receded, her rib cage visible…although she wasn't sucking in. Her body still ached from the vomiting, she couldn't help it, she breathed in. Just a little.
She let go, gasping in pain.
Her ribs strangled her stomach, it hurt to breath as she normally would.
She was 90 pounds, she'd be on show.
But she didn't. Alvaraz wouldn't be calling her "not dedicated." now.
Her plan would go on…through a rocky and painful path.