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Hand clutching the rim. Fingers in the back of my throat. Vomit dirtying the white porcelain.
An addictive rush. Emptiness is power.
A sense of relief. Weightlessness followed by the pulverizing weight of shame.
You’ll never be good enough.
Why can’t I stop?
I throw up again.
My back hits the side of the bathroom stall. I hug my knees to my chest. Dizziness blurs my vision and I fight the alluring call of unconsciousness.
Keep going, mum will be proud.
The palpitations of my heart scare me. Sweat dots my brow. My throat is sore. My teeth hurt. My body is weak in the aftermath.
I need to collect myself.
When did I let it get this bad?
Again. Do itagain.
Failure isn’t an option.
I want to scream. Scream so loudly that the voice cowers back into the dark recesses of my mind where it came from and never comes out again.
Lazy, disgraceful, waste of space.
Emotion clogs my throat. I’m sotired.I can’t keep doing this to myself.
I can’t stop.
The room comes slowly back into focus. I’m on the floor, sweat beading at my temples.
I don’t know how long I’ve been gone, but it’s a while. Tristan will be wondering where I am.
I need to go back out there. I need to paint that smile back on and show him I’m okay.
There’s a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush in my bag, I never go anywhere without them. A quick brush and the veneer of perfection will be back firmly in place.
Wiping my hand across my mouth, I open the stall door and walk out. I’m digging in my purse for my things. I think I have breath spray as well.
I dump the contents of my purse haphazardly on the counter. Shaking hands pick up the breath freshener and spray it a couple of times in my mouth. I run my toothbrush under the tap and bring it up to my mouth, looking up into the mirror.
My heart comes to a devastating, screeching halt.
It feels like it completely caves in on itself and slowly collapses when my eyes meet Tristan’s in the reflection.
I whip around, clutching the sink counter behind me for support.
His eyes are so dark and intense in the mirror that all traces of blue are gone. All I see is the blackest look that’s ever been leveled at me.
The denial is instant on my lips.
“It’s not what you think,” I swear.
The look in his eye tells me I’m not getting away with it.
