This is only a short chapter but I hope you like it!

Friday 22 october pt 2

It was almost ten o' clock. I'd been sitting here since six-thirty. I'd barely touched my food, eating only a few slices of tomato. I knew what had to be done. As soon as they let me leave the table! Steve had already gone home. He had come to say goodbye to me, giving me a worried look before disappearing out of the kitchen and the house. Soda and Darry were sitting in the lounge room watching TV. I could hear Soda talking a mile a minute, and I bet Darry was barely listening too. Just like it always was. I had snuck out of the kitchen for a minute to get a book to read. I knew I'd be here for a while and I hadn't read much while I was in the ward.

I heard the squeaking of the couch as one of them got up. I knew where they were headed, towards me. I checked what page I was up to before putting my book down and picking up my fork, stabbing another piece of tomato. I lifted it to my mouth taking a deep breath before I bit half of it off. I chewed it slowly as Soda came into the kitchen. He sat down in his spot and watched me chew as I stared straight ahead.

"I'm glad you're eating," he said quietly after a minute or so of silence. I nodded. Tears stung my eyes. This was too much for me to take. Knowing that they were worried about me and being forced to eat again was just too much.

"I'm not," I said, putting my fork down and looking him straight in the eye. His mouth was opened, like he was shocked. He was shocked.

"You told us you were better," he said. I nodded and smiled.

"I was, for a while. Now I'm not and I don't plan on getting better," I was being rude and I definitely knew it. I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms.

"You told us you were better!" he repeated, "Why the hell would you lie to us?" He was yelling at me? After all I'd been through he was yelling at me? It was making me feel worse already. The little food in my stomach was churning.

"Well I'm sorry!" I yelled, standing up so quickly my chair made a loud scraping sound as it was pushed backwards,"But you have no fucking idea what it's like to be like th-"

"Pony, you can leave the table now," Darry came in, standing in the kitchen doorway. He was calm and didn't yell. Maybe he knew how hard this all was and didn't want me arguing with Soda about it. I took a look at both of them before grabbing my book and heading for our bedroom.

"I'm gonna shower!" I yelled at them as I reached my bedroom. I hurried. Throwing my book on my bed and grabbing clean sweatpants and an old tshirt to sleep in. I rushed to the bathroom and locked the door. I threw my clothes on the ground and went for the sink. I turned on the tap and cupped my hand under it, drinking out of my hand like a cup. I did this several times, until I was out of breath from drinking so quickly. I turned the tap off and looked at my face in the mirror. Fat, fat, fat, I told myself. You're so fat, don't ever eat again! Again, tears sprung to my eyes as I turned to the corner of the room where the scales were. But I didn't weigh myself. I forced myself not to. If I weighed more because of the little salad I ate, who knew what I would do.

I turned on the shower and got undressed. When it was warm enough I got under the water, kneeling down on the ground. I knew what I was going to do. It was horrible but I'd started it in the ward. So it looked like I was better. I'd drink heaps of water and eat a little of every meal, then I'd go throw it up. Like I was doing now. It was digusting but it had to be done. I always did it in the shower or when I absolutely knew no one else was around.

I finished up and stood up, watching my vomit being forced away by the water. Then I showered.