Chapter 80
I stand at the bathroom door for a minute, listening. When all I hear is silence, I open it. I know what I'm doing. I think I know what I'm doing. I've never actually done this before. I just know, somehow, that this will make me feel better. If I do this, I'll stop feeling awful. If I do this, I'll stop feeling guilty. I close the door behind me as softly as I can, trying not to wake anyone up.
I crouch on the cold bathroom floor next to the toilet. Bending my head over the bowl, I refuse to let the tears that fill my eyes fall. I press my tongue down and push my finger as far down my throat as I can. It doesn't work the first time, or the second, or the third. The fourth time I try, I push further and further, desperate. I feel the vomit rising in my throat and I know that, this time, it's worked. I make sure that my head's over the bowl as I throw up.
I flush it away then fall against the wall, finally letting the tears fall. I stay there and cry myself to sleep.