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Though, I’m not as cruel as he is – or as heartless.
“Why, yes. Of course I’ve seen someone vomiting.” His voice is calm and steady, even though the undertone is sinister. “Nasty business, that is.”
I spit out the mouthwash and clean my mouth. “Yup. Very nasty.”
“Especially when you stick a finger in your throat and make yourself vomit. Nasty, indeed.”
I freeze midway of pocketing my mouthwash. Shit. He saw it.
He shouldn’t have seen it. Why the hell did he see it?
Or the better question is, why didn’t I close the door?
Oh, I know why. I was in a hurry to lose the calories I gained from those avocados and meet Mum’s requirements so she doesn’t ship Kir away.
And I may have been rattled since I met this same arsehole outside my house and was forced to ride in his car earlier.
Me, in Xander’s car. I might have been too stunned all the way to remember anything about the journey.
“I just had an upset stomach,” I speak with a confidence I don’t feel.
Last summer, I was hitting rock bottom and Dad suggested I go on a spiritual retreat; he said it helped him when he needed clarity. I didn’t want to go, because of Kir, but when he said we could go as a family, I agreed. The trip consisted of Kir, Dad, and me. Mum had work – as always.
While we were there, I got to meet a lot of spiritual people from all sorts of religions, and although their beliefs didn’t interest me a lot, their life philosophies did. So much, I’m actually planning to visit that mountain in Switzerland again.
Back then, a Buddhist said that even if I’m not confident, I have to think of my goals and if need be, fake that confidence.
I call it, fake it until you make it.
One day, I won’t look in the mirror and practice how to talk, walk, or smile. One day, confidence will come naturally to me.
That day sure as hell isn’t today, so all I can do is continue to fake it.
“Do you always have upset stomachs?” he asks with almost a sympathetic tone.
Almost, because he’s faking it, too.
Xander’s mirroring my fakery and using it as a weapon against me in his dickhead style.
“Yes.” I don’t dare stare back or in the mirror, where I’ll find his eyes trying to dig a path into my soul.
No one needs to find a path to there, especially not him.
I don’t want him of all people to see the mess hidden underneath all of this.
He broke me, and he doesn’t get to witness the chaos left behind.
“That must be why you always carry the mouthwash, then.”
“Yup.”
“Funny, because I almost think you do that to hide your vomiting habits
.”
My fingers tremble, but I don’t stop to let his words get to me. Xander might not have fat-shamed me, but he’s a bully. He laughed in my face, he mocked me, and he turned my life to hell like everyone else.
When I decided to stop being a secondary character in my life, it also meant not letting him get under my skin or see me at my lowest.
