Status: Dieting.
Fragile.
Not Alone.
Thick questions ran through the small girl’s mind as she peered into the metal and glass contraption placed awkwardly in front of her. Each question hung heavy in the air and left her mouth feeling dry.
The young girl, at only twelve, tore herself apart that day.
She laced her corset of bones tighter and pulled death close. The scent filled her nostrils and the taste scalded her mouth, however she continued on as if it didn’t faze her. Nothing could hurt her when she was so close to death. Nothing mattered anymore. She turned bitter over the winter of her thirteenth year. Her skeleton shone through like ice and her mind slopped out of her ears. She was beyond the point of return.
She was sitting on a Ferris wheel entering, leaving and reentering the world in a slow circle. Some days she walked with her eyes shut to the world, and on others the world’s every flaw burned her retinas.
Life wasn’t easy for someone so very vulnerable. She wore her nerves like a coat; every touch sent an array of pain through her tiny body. Her heart blazed in her chest, a constant flame. Her eyes spoke in deep purples. The girl’s body was painted black and blue and her insides were strung out like Christmas lights.
By a young age the girl learned that people knew to tell you what you wanted to hear.
”You aren’t alone in this,” a voice in her head spoke.
The girl’s hands flew to her ears. She closed the blinds to the world.
“Fuck you. Go the hell away,” she spat, disgusted and fighting.
”How will you survive alone? If I were to leave you?”
Static built in the small girl’s head, her body shook and her ears rung. Her life hung in the balance but she didn’t mind. The thirteen year-old-girl had survived on very little sustenance up to this point. She had pushed her body to all of its limits and watched it stretch and bend in front of her eyes.
”The end will justify the means, baby.”
The young girl, at only twelve, tore herself apart that day.
She laced her corset of bones tighter and pulled death close. The scent filled her nostrils and the taste scalded her mouth, however she continued on as if it didn’t faze her. Nothing could hurt her when she was so close to death. Nothing mattered anymore. She turned bitter over the winter of her thirteenth year. Her skeleton shone through like ice and her mind slopped out of her ears. She was beyond the point of return.
She was sitting on a Ferris wheel entering, leaving and reentering the world in a slow circle. Some days she walked with her eyes shut to the world, and on others the world’s every flaw burned her retinas.
Life wasn’t easy for someone so very vulnerable. She wore her nerves like a coat; every touch sent an array of pain through her tiny body. Her heart blazed in her chest, a constant flame. Her eyes spoke in deep purples. The girl’s body was painted black and blue and her insides were strung out like Christmas lights.
By a young age the girl learned that people knew to tell you what you wanted to hear.
”You aren’t alone in this,” a voice in her head spoke.
The girl’s hands flew to her ears. She closed the blinds to the world.
“Fuck you. Go the hell away,” she spat, disgusted and fighting.
”How will you survive alone? If I were to leave you?”
Static built in the small girl’s head, her body shook and her ears rung. Her life hung in the balance but she didn’t mind. The thirteen year-old-girl had survived on very little sustenance up to this point. She had pushed her body to all of its limits and watched it stretch and bend in front of her eyes.
”The end will justify the means, baby.”