I wake up slowly, my head pounding and my body sore everywhere. But I'm back from Hell, at least. I doubt anyone even noticed I had died.

I pop a few Advil into my mouth and glance at the clock on my bedside table. Almost noon. On a school day. Great.

After shoving my feet into some holey socks and shoes I grab my backpack and hurry to school, trying to invent some sort of excuse other than spontaneous death for my lateness. As I enter the high school a few moments later, I decide upon using 'there was a power outage so my alarm didn't go off'. Rather professional if I do say so myself.

My stomach grumbles as I head to my locker and grab my stuff. I sigh, because I know there's an apple in my backpack, and I know I'm going to eat it. I pile my Philosophy books into my backpack as I try desperately not to cave in. I close my locker door and stare at my open bag on the floor.

And then I give up, scavenging the apple from my backpack and biting into it forcefully. Somehow, tears spill from my eyes as I finish off the hunk of calories. I dry my face, feeling like a total dope.

I scoop up my bag and head for my Philosophy class, praying for my eyes not to be red and puffy. My stomach growls once more, and I feel like throwing up - anything to keep from gaining weight.

Craig's frown and scowl greet me in second period, quickly followed by those of the teacher's. I try to convince him that there was a power outage, but he knows me all too well, and tells me sternly to take a seat and be quiet.

I do as instructed, sitting in my usual seat next to the black-haired male who currently hates my guts. I rip a piece of paper out of my binder and hurriedly scribble a note of apology to Craig, considering he was no longer returning my texts or calls.

When I slide it over to him, he sighs, reading my very heartfelt apology I'd somehow pulled out of my ass. He writes something below my message and returns it to me.

'Don't apologize, okay? It's not your fault I'm a fucking loser.'

I groan and try to reason with the kid. 'You're not a loser. It's my fault, I shouldn't have lead you on.'

'Lead me on? To what, that you felt the same as I do? That you were really just using me to get off, thinking about Kyle? Yeah, that would've been nice. Luckily you won't have to worry much more.'

I raise an eyebrow wearily. 'What do you mean...?'

Craig gives me a look, scribbling his chicken-scratch in anger. 'Haven't you heard? Kyle and Rebecca broke up last night, the whole fucking school knows! Pretty nasty break up, but I guess that's just better for you, huh?'

I stare at the page for a full minute. Though Craig's giving me a pretty hard time and I should try harder to calm him down, the second the bell for lunch sounds, I bolt out of the classroom and sprint down the hallway to Kyle's locker.

I lean against his locker door, trying to look cool; I suck in my fat and smile as he approaches. He frowns and tells me sternly to get out of his way. "Hey, Ky," I say, mustering up my best 'sexy' voice.

Kyle glares a glare that was so glaring that Satan himself would marvel at Kyle's glaring abilities. "Shut up, Kenny, I'm not in the goddamn mood," he says. I back off, putting my hands up defensively. Being very experienced in the dating world, my mind subconsciously calculates that Kyle should be back in the game in under a week at this rate. He'd already passed the first stage, denial, and was now almost through the second, anger.

"You want to talk about it, Kyle?" I ask cautiously, hoping he'll move on to the 'bargaining' stage asap. He sighs and shakes his head as he gathers up his things and closes his locker.

"Unless you can get Rebecca back for me, there's nothing anyone can do."

I raise an eyebrow. I'm surprised he's so attached to her - he hadn't even gotten to second base.

I say nothing as Kyle walks away to go study in the library with Stan and Wendy, and I'm left to consider my lunch options. Option A: follow Craig around and try to get him to talk to me again. Option B: attempt to study with Kyle, and do my best to ignore Stan insulting me. Option C: Throw up and cry in the bathroom.

I sigh, taking the third option, deeply hating myself.

I rush to dry my hair out under the hand dryer, towel around my waist and flip flops on, despite the snow outside.

Tweek is ranting to me about the gnomes following him to school this morning, which I do my best to ignore. Cartman's standing beside me, stark naked and combing his hair in the bathroom mirror. Oh how I love swim practice.

We get changed quickly and I grab my bag, heading outside. I immediately light up a cigarette and Tweek does the same. Cartman coughs obviously and makes a comment about us giving him cancer. I continue to ignore him as I head for the bus stop, Tweek and Cartman following me.

We wait in comfortable silence for ten minutes until the number nine comes and they shuffle into the vehicle. Tweek asks if I'm coming, but I say 'no, I'm going up to Colfax Point for the night'. He knows what that means and he shuts up.

True to my word, I silently board the next bus, the twelve. I get off at my usual stop and head for my usual corner.

My stomach growls, and I can barely stand the goddamn hunger, and I hate myself so much, and I'm touching some random dude, and everything is a blur of self-hatred and pain and tears between clients.

In my haze I almost failed to notice the new client... but... what's he doing? I try to speak but I can't make myself talk, and the pain, oh God, and I can't see, and I feel a foot in my stomach but it's nothing compared to the hunger, and I hear the cock of a gun, and I somehow manage to empty my pockets though I'm fucking blind, and WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?

I pass out, and wake a up a few hours later, head cleared, vision intact, money gone and skin slick with sweat. I pant heavily in anxiety, standing up slowly and carefully.

I wasn't raped, just robbed. I got lucky.

For once, being fat paid off.