Rush

I awoke the next morning to the smell of eggs and bacon. Looks like I'm either going to have to fake the bug again, or make myself too late to eat.
I decide to make myself late. If I try to keep this bug up for too long, Dad'll send to to the doctors. The doctors aren't nice people. They poke and prod and look and touch. They don't ask before they lift up your gown and see your scars. They just do.
That's what happened two years ago, when I stopped eating and started cutting. The doctor, Dr. Sanchez, decided that she wanted to see how I was doing underneath my clothing. She said I was a little underweight. That's when she saw my deep, ugly scars. And that's how I ended up in the mental hospital for the first time. Dad wasn't very happy. He blamed it all on himself, for not having a mother for me in my life. That's how Kiara came into play.
Dad and Kiara met at a dog park. Dad got a dog as an excuse to go out and stay away from me more. The weeks that followed my return from the hospital were the loneliest weeks of my life. No body wanted to be my friend anymore, and Dad was avoiding me, claiming Maggie, his dog, needed to walk a lot since she was growing. Yeah? Well, I needed to talk a lot, since I was depressed. Dad didn't seem to notice too much. Then one day, he came home with Kiara, who had Mr. Pinkie with her. Apparently Mr. Pinkie and Maggie were best friends and had to play together a lot. Either that or Dad found a girlfriend.
It's not like I don't like Kiara. She just... She isn't a mom. She isn't my mom, even though I don't remember her. Laura went MIA before I could even talk. So I grew up with a dad and an older brother, until he joined the military. He hasn't been home for three years, though he writes every chance he gets. Jake remembers mom. He remembers that she started going crazy two years before she had me. And he hates Dad, he thinks it was his fault.
So it was easy to keep what happened a secret from Jake. He still thinks I'm a happy little teenager who weighs 120 pounds.
Not anymore.
And let's hope never again.
I got up after about 10 minutes and jumped in the shower, knowing I was already going to be running late. I let the water cascade over my body and wash away all my troubles. Too bad it didn't last forever.
Twenty minutes into my shower, Dad bangs on the door.
"Nikki! Hurry up, you're going to be late!"
Goal accomplished.
I dressed and ran downstairs, ready to run the 3 blocks to my school. It wasn't much, I know, but it's better than nothing.
* * * * * * *
I arrived just in time for first period. I slunk into the seat next to my best friend, the only one who really knew me, Chloe. She was wearing dark sunglasses that she always got teachers to allow her to wear. She told them that she had to wear them because the fluorescent lights would sometimes hurt her eyes. I knew she only wore them when she was high.
Chloe loves her cocaine. She's absolutely addicted and would do anything to get her hands on it. But she only wants it for the same reason I do. To be skinny.
I envied Chloe. From her dark, glossy red hair, to her thin, bony shoulders, to her jutted out hip-bones, to her thin, thin thighs. Chloe was who I wanted to be. She was pretty, gorgeous and rail thin. I, on the other hand, was plain. My black hair barely came to my chest and it was too straight, where as Chloe's was voluminous and curly. I had sea green eyes that looked too hazel to be green, but passed for it in certain lights. And I still had my baby fat.
If only there was something, anything I could do to get skinnier. I mean, I could do crack, like Chloe. But no, it would be too hard to hide from my dad and Kiara. Chloe's parents are never home, she could get away with anything. Maybe some day they'll invent a pill that makes you loose every pound you have until you're perfect size. For me, that goal is 0.87.00 pounds.