The Horrifying Secrets Of A Teenage Girl

She was alone. She had wondered if she had gone deaf, for as she sat on her bed, there was no sound. It annoyed her. She nudged over, to hear the satisfying wrinkling of her bed sheets. The air was too stuffy and hot, but she did not open the window. She liked it. She sighed and bounced back on the covers, so her head rested on the pillow. She cried. The salty tears slid down the corner of her eyes and into her ears. It tickled so she sat up, and stretched her tongue to lick the salty water off her cheek. A smell of hot food drifted into her nostrils, and she retched. She hated food. And that's how the whole thing started.
She stood on the scales and sighed. 62 kilos. At 173cm tall and aged 13, it wasen't overweight. It was quite normal. But that thought went past her. Recently she had started reading magazines. She had started watching modelling shows. She loved them, but hated them. The girls had tanned barbie legs that stretched as long as the river Nile, their long honey coloured hair draped over their anguler shoulders. They had pouted, bitchy faces, but it was beautiful. They had startling blue lakes or coconut brown pools in their eyes, and their lips were plumped and blood red.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Dirty blond hair, as fine as a babys', spiked and cut short, barely reaching her shoulders. She had a curvy body, and she managed to pinch some fat around her stomach. Thank god for her eyes. They were a honey and syrup gold, like a cat's. She was unsatisfied. She did not notice it, but food became an obsession. She would frantically check the labels, the calories, the fat. At parties, she tried to hide it. She grew panicky as she could not check the labels. She would rush to the bathroom and get sick in the toilet, without even having to shove a finger down her throat. The thought of fat was enough.
People noticed, for good and for worse. By now, she had reached 6 stone. Her bones peaked out in all places. Her parents tried to help her. At 5 and a half stone, she was shockingly anorexic. Children were scared of her. Her little brother came in one morning to wake her for school, and ran out screaming thinking she was dead. She didn't care. She still thought she was fat. And that's when the bullying started.
The queen bee looked her up and down. Victim. She loved victims. Victims were the girls who dressed like boys, who played Witchcraft, who were fat, who still played dragons and wizards, who were shy, who were disabled. A new category fell in. Girls who were too skinny. It was tormenting for the skinny girl. Almost every day, they would call her names, throw things at her.
Skinny Bitch!!!
Eat a pretzal, freak!
Are you dead?!
Wish I could stuff something down your gob, bitch!
Anorexic!
She was alone. She had hardly any friends before, now she had none. Her parents assumed it was a stage in the teen years. But even then, it had stretched on for 2 years, she was 15. She did not tell a soul about her social life. It was eating her inside, the pain was exruciating. Every day another nightmare.
We find ourselves back to the start, her sitting on the bed, the sickening smell of hot food ingulfing her senses. Tears rolling off her face like the weight that had rolled off her body. She was at a dead end. There was nowhere to go, no one to talk to. A sudden thought popped into her head. What if it all just ended?
Her little brother, this time, really did find her dead. She hung like a carcuss from a belt in her wardrobe. Her thin body had gone white. Her soul was finally free of the body that had ended her.