Believers Never Die Pt. 1

I was home alone. It was dark out. I would imagine it was about eight at night, give or take a few minutes. Margot was at her post, cleaning up after supper. She had made bratwurst, one of my favorites. My parents weren't home, so of course, I guzzled it all down. Annemarie was doing laundry. Viktor was enjoying his evening tea. Christoph was driving Ingrid and Evander to the store. I had elected not to accompany them. I had not been feeling quite myself, so I stayed home.

I was sitting on the couch slumped over, shoveling Cheetos into my mouth by the handful. Glenn sat beneath me, in front of the beige-colored sofa (if my mother knew I was eating on it, she would have killed me). The TV lit up the dark room. The sound, however, had drifted into the background. I was in a daze. I couldn't explain it.

I stopped eating long enough to stare at my fingers. They were completely covered in orange, artificial cheese powder. I stuck one finger in my mouth, sucking off the all the cheese in one, clean lick. I took it out of my mouth and stared at my other four fingers. Your fingers are orange. That's disgusting, I thought. That's so disgusting, you're fat. You're so fat. Fat, fat, fat. I looked at the Cheetos. You shouldn't be eating those, a voice in my head told me. But I want to, I thought. They are making you fat, the voice responded.

Sighing, I took a glance at the bag of Cheetos in my hand. I put them down on the couch and just continued watching TV. But I wanted those Cheetos. But I couldn't eat them. I couldn't be fat.I looked at my stomach. I poked it, and I watched my finger sink into the skin. I grimaced. Disgusting, the voice hissed. I'm so fat, I thought. Like a pig. Like a fat, little pig. I sighed and pushed the bag of Cheetos further from me.

I had to resist. I wasn't weak. Only strong people could be beautiful. That's what mother said. She said that beauty was pain. She said fat people were weak. "They have no self-control," she told me. Well, I had self-control. I refused to be fat and ugly. I was going to be thin and beautiful like mommy.

My eyes wandered from the TV to the bathroom down the hall. I wondered. If the Cheetos put the calories inside me... why couldn't I just take them back out? I stood up, and I followed the light trailing from the bathroom. I closed the door behind me. In a brief fit of paranoia, I turned on all the water. Everything was running. The fan, the sink, the bath tub, anything that made noise. I ignored my reflection in the mirror and headed for the toilet. I lifted the lid and looked into the water. I glanced at the sink. I made the sudden decision to grab my tooth brush.

There I was, standing in front of the toilet bowl, tooth brush in hand. I got down on my knees and lifted the seat. As i opened my mouth, I brought my hand to my face, the tooth brush closer to my lips. Slowly, I moved the tooth brush toward the back of my throat. Nothing. I took it back out. This time, I didn't hesitate. I forced the tooth brush in. I felt my body jerk, and I felt something rushing up my throat.

In a matter of seconds, the toilet was filled with bright orange vomit. I flushed it and stood up. I spent a good two and a half minutes brushing my teeth until I couldn't taste the stomach acid anymore. My throat burned a little.

I stuck my tooth brush back with the others, and I turned off the sink, the tub and the fan. I left the bathroom and reclaimed my spot on the couch, watching TV, eating my Cheetos, and scratching the dog with my foot.