Words, Words, Words

My heart is racing.

The last thing I want is to be stuck in a car with Oliver, going thirty miles per hour towards my house. I want to be as far from him as possible after what happened this morning. But of course, with my luck, I’m forced to do things that I seriously don’t want to.

As I walk up the stairs, I start to feel lightheaded. I try to fight my body in the direction it’s going but I’m not strong enough - I end up in the bathroom, shutting the door and turning on the light.

I stop fighting myself, drop to my knees and just let it go. But for once, I don’t think about my body. I don’t think about how absolutely disgusting I feel. I just shove my finger down, down, down my throat and think about Oliver’s sour words.

“But what’s new?”

After I finish, I take a few deep breaths and let my mind wander as I sit in front of the toilet. I try to ignore any thoughts that emotionally hurt me to think about but I can’t help it.

“Hell, it’s a miracle yeh fit in the car!”

I shut my eyes and lean over the toilet seat again. My finger slips into my mouth again and I go for a second round. I feel relieved as my stomach contents fall into the water as they’ve done countless times before. I feel as if I’m forming myself into something that people want; that I’m finally good enough.

“Amelia's stomach will be the next eclipse.”

My hair falls into my eye as I try to steady my breathing. Over the fan, I don’t hear the footsteps that come up the stairs. My shaky hand rises to my mouth as my finger slides onto my tongue when suddenly a knock comes from the door.

“Amelia?”

I don’t respond. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and brush back my hair. The person knocks again as I pull my hair up into a ponytail and wipe the tears from my face. Just as I’m about to get up, though, the doorknob turns.

The door swings open to reveal the last person I want to see. His eyes glance down where I sit on the bathroom floor questionably before darting towards the unflushed toilet. Looking back at me, his hazel eyes grow wide with worry and disgust. I stare up at him as he stands there, stiff with shock.

Instead of walking out and yelling for Tom like I thought he would, he shuts the bathroom door behind him and sits down on the floor next to me. I don't look at him as he asks softly, putting his hand gently on mine, "How long have yeh been doin' this, Amelia?"

I don't want to open up to him. I don't want to be admit that his words sting worse than all his hangovers combined. I don't want to accept the fact that I care about what he thinks. I don't want to, my body needs me to. So I whisper faintly, looking down at our hands, "Since I met you."