Maybe tomorrow I'll feel a speck worthwhile

I knew I wouldn't be able to get away.
The plate was placed under my nose, their eyes were scanning me, not letting me go for one second, like they need to make sure the psycho won't hide the food.

I gripped the fork and the knife, breathing hard.

I let the knife slice the food into tiny, tiny pieces.
Quickly scanned everything on the table – if they look away, maybe you can hide some of the pieces under a napkin.

I grabbed one, placing it next to me and met his gaze again.
He was chewing his food slowly.

No leaving the table before the food on that plate is gone.
I nodded. Yes, I understood. I just didn't want to do it.
Do something quickly or someone will tell Adrienne.

I stabbed some food with my fork, putting it in my mouth slowly.
Chewing it even slower.

One meal won't make me fat. One meal won't. I'll be okay. I'll be o-fucking-kay.

With that, I swallowed.

And repeated it all until everything on the plate were gone, making him stroke my cheek while he placed my empty plate on the sink.

I watched it lying there.
It was almost laughing at me.

And when I finally were home, and my wife and kid were peacefully asleep, I put the sink on full speed and let my fingers go down deeply down my throat.