And here it is-the not that long awaited:::D

Chapter 2

I walked in the door and closed it as quietly as possible. With any luck my dad was asleep in his room.

I'm not very lucky.

"Sakura? You there?" He called from the end of the house.

"Aha." Here we go.

"What!"

"I said yes, I'm home!" At least I make myself laugh even if I'm the only one.

I hope he doesn't want much; I really want to cut my arm off and it's getting unbearable.

I walked into the study and he frowns when he sees that i'm frowning so I try to smile quickly enough that he doesn't ask what's wrong with me. He doesn't look too convinced. If he asks i'll lie.

"Did you have a good day."

"Yep. Had some fun classes. And my friend had a birthday so there was cake at recess. It had gluten in it but I mean it was for a special occasion so I had a piece." All lies. I had boring teachers all day and I hadn't eaten a thing since an unavoidable dinner the day before.

"Sounds like a great day." He smiled. I smiled.

"Cool. I might have a nap, i'm a little tired. That alright?"

"Sure sweetie. Oh, but have something for afternoon tea first."

I tried so hard not to grimace. He never forgets.

I went back to the kitchen and started preparing some rice cakes as loudly as I possibly could. I wanted to make sure he could hear me doing this. If I actuallly had to eat this, it had better be worth it.

I took the plate of calories to my room and put them on the floor next to the window. I wasn't sure what i'd do with them and it felt like a burden over my head just having them exist.

Ten minutes later I packed them into a small plastic bag and put it with my school stuff. I guess i'll sneak it out with me tomorrow. The bins at home aren't safe. They've found my food thrown away before. It was so humiliating. I'd wanted to melt into the floor, better yet just to disappear.

I went back to the kitchen and filled up my bottle of water. If I had an addiction; it was water.

I have a couple of assignments I have around but all i want to do is collapse. There's just no motivation to do anything. Not even to move. Barely enough to breathe.

I feel so numb again. I can't feel anything and it's freaking me out. I want to cry but I can't even do that, i'm paralyzed. It's a miracle I have the life in me left to reach for the pair of scissors I keep on my bedside table. And as I drag the blade on them that I suppose to be the sharpest over my left thigh I can feel the clamps on my heart loosen and the lethargy lessen. This is why I know I'm not okay. And even if I'll never show a soul, this makes my suffering real. I'm not imagining this. I'm not dreaming. I'm not dead, i'm still alive.

XXX

Waking up is okay. I'm never not tired but I always feel the prettiest in the mornings. It might sound silly to you, but it's important to me. Some days I don't feel like I fit my own body and so when I feel pretty, even if only for a couple of hours before the days begins, I like to pretend I can believe my mirror. When I look pretty I know she's lying. But I don't mind. Pretending is nice.

I can pretend that I grew into my forehead. The mirror shows me that it's a normal size but I know it must be huge.

And I can imagine in my head that my pink hair glows the way it does in my reflection, but I know that this too is something conjured.

Finally I know that while I am so inconceivably fat that I shouldn't be allowed on public transport, my mirror likes to tell me, in the mornings at least, that I am healthy and well proportioned. Even the word healthy though... It makes me feel hideous.

I suddenly can't look at myself anymore. All the realizations that i'm so much uglier than i'm pretending come crashing down and I almost think i'd cry if it weren't for-"Sakura! Are you awake yet? You're going to be late!"

"Yep. Thank you kaa-san." I open the door to my room and step out with my school bag, concealing my afternoon tea from the day before.

She insists I call her that. I don't mind calling her mum, she's close enough to a mum for me anyway, just without all the huggy kissy ridiculous stuff I use to have with my real mum before I started hating her. Long story, boring story.

She points to the lunch she's set for me on the bench as she feeds my baby half-sister. She's so cute. She's the chubbiest thing you ever saw... And I wouldn't want her any other way.

I guess it's just babies that can pull it off.

I'm keen to hear any criticism or comments. No pressure to review though, for simply reading, in that itself, I am most grateful.

BlAnCh