Shattered Glass

I don't know what comes over me. One second, I'm climbing the stairs to my room; the next, I'm on my knees in front of the trash can, shoving handfuls of casserole into my mouth.

It tasts so good.

Handful after handful, I eat all the amazing food. I can't stop.

"You bitch! What the hell do you think you are doing!?" Ana yells in my ear. "You fat fuck, stop eating! Now!"

I ignore her and keep eating.

I close my eyes and enjoy the taste of the food as it slides over my taste buds and down my throat.

Then I realise what I've done.

My eyes snap open and I stare at the bits of food and garbage strewn on the floor around me. I stand up, shaking, and walk over to the sink, washing the remains of the casserole off my hands and digging out the pieces stuck under my nails.

I sink down onto the floor and lean my head back against the cupboards, tears streaming down my face. What had I done?

"Ana, Ana, I am so sorry. Please forgive me! I need your help!"

"You want my help, bitch?"

She's questioning me. I don't know if I'm meant to answer or not, so I stay silent, expecting further instructions.

"Do you think I'll just take you back and help you every time you fuck up just because you say you're sorry?"

"No, Ana, please. I promise. I won't do it again. Please, just help me." My voice is cracking.

"This is your last chance, bitch. Next time, I won't help you. I'll just leave and you'll be stuck in your own little fat world of fatness."

"Thank you, Ana! Thank you! I won't ever, ever, screw up again!"

She ignores me. "Upstairs, now."

I pick myself up off the floor and - drag myself upstairs, wiping the tears away as I go.

"You know what you have to do," she says calmly.

I walk into the bathroom and flip on the light. Leaning over the toilet, I gently push my fingers to the back of my throat and watch as the casserole leaves my body for good. I repeat this over and over again, until no more will come up. I stop, leaning over the seat to relax.

"I did not tell you to stop!" Ana shouts. "Keep going, bitch!"

I groan. Why do I have to be such a fat cow? Can't I do anything right?

"I said keep going! Don't make me repeat myself again," she says. Her voice is like poison.

I can't not obey her, so I stick my fingers back in once more. A bit more comes up, but now this time my head is spinning badly.

"Please, Ana, please let me stop."

"Fine, but your punishment is only half over. I need you to find a razor. Do it now," she orders.

I flush the contents of the toilet away and go over to the cupboard under the sink. I rummage through it until I find a plastic purple razor.

"On your wrist, I want you to make two horizontal cuts. One for each time you've disobeyed me. You need to learn that I don't stand for my girls disobeying me. I went easy on you last time, but you're such a fuck up that you messed up again. None of my other girls fuck up this much and they are with me for months, but you've messed up twice in less than a week. Tell me why I should even keep helping you?"

I don't say anything. I have no idea what to say. Why should she help me, a fucking fat failure anyway? There's no point.

"I asked you a question, bitch. Answer me!"

"Because I need you, Ana. I'm nothing without you and I never will be. I need your help to make me beautiful. I need you to help make me perfect.

"And I will, if you can stop yourself from fucking up." she sneers."Now cut."

I sit there on the floor next to my sink, watching the drops of crimson slide down my wrist onto the floor, just missing the egde of the bath mat.

I am that much closer to perfection.