Skin and Bones

Gerard caresses my knee all the way home while Mikey won’t stop making gag-noises in the backseat. The social worker has his own car, which I’m more than pleased by.

“So far, so good,” Gerard says as his pinky runs up a bit further than before.
I giggle.
Mikey gags.

We pull up to the house and get out. I have to fight myself not to grab Gerard’s hand on our way to the front door. I have to fight myself even harder not to stare at Gerard’s tight pants as he searches through his pocket for his keys.
The curtains in the living room are suddenly extremely interesting.
The door opens and we all file into the hallway of the house. It’s slightly cooler than it is outside, which I only enjoy fully. The chill air helps cool off my heated thoughts.
We walk into the empty living room.

“Are your parents not home yet?” the social worker asks – sounding slightly outraged.

“No,” Gerard answers simply. I’m worried that he sounded too harsh. I don’t want anything to damage my chances of staying here. I’m sure Gerard won’t either, but I don’t know what the social worker’s standards are for ‘a normal home environment’.

I throw myself into an arm chair – trying to look as normal and comfortable as possible. I’ve been over here a billion times, but have never really hung out in their living room. Mikey and I always went to his room.
To be honest; I kinda like Mikey’s room better. Even though the living room contains the house’s only TV, I still find all the collections of various things kinda scary. By the look on his face, the social worker does too.

“How often do you watch TV?” He pulls out his notepad and his pen, before he looks up and stares at me – expectant.

“I thought you were supposed to observe Frank, not ask him questions.” My eyes go wide as I look over at Gerard. He looks completely calm – like he doesn’t care at all.
I look back at the social worker who’s hurriedly scribbling something down.

I look down at the floor and bite my lip to keep the tears from rising into my eyes. When they stop burning, I look up at the TV.
Cockroaches are crawling all over the screen. We must be watching Discovery or something like that. I glance over at Gerard and see him scowling at the screen.
Maybe he was hoping for a documentary on zombies – just to piss off the social worker.
Does Gerard want me to stay at all?
A huge spider comes onto the TV and I shiver.

I quickly get out of the chair and the social worker gives me a weird look. I just walk past him.
I’m halfway down the hall when I hear footsteps behind me. When I turn around and look, the social worker is standing there – his fucking notepad and pen ready.

“Can I at least go to the bathroom by myself?” I’m about to swallow my words back down, but the guy simply nods and turns around. When he turns a corner, I sigh in relief.

I step into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. This one has a window.
I walk over to the sink and lean over it. I close my eyes and breathe in the fresh, cold scent of the bathroom tiles. It’s calming – soothing.
I really want to stay here.
I just want people to want me to stay here too.

I don’t know why, but I suddenly look at myself. I look up at the mirror and see myself staring back.
My eyes are bulging out of my scull. My neck is wiry. So is my body.

Slowly, layers of fat appear on my bones – my skin stretching and sagging. My neck grows thicker and my face pudgier.
I look down at the sink and see my bony hands grow bigger – fatter.
Why do I do this to myself?