She Will Puke Her Way Into a Perfect Little World

Jen knew there was something wrong when she walked in on me puking my guts out. I withdrew my fingers from my mouth before she could notice them.

"Oh no Carrie, what's wrong?" She asked, sitting next to me and pulling my hair away from my face.

"Nothing, just caught a bug or something," I lied and instantly felt guilty. She was such a good friend, always helping me out when I needed it.

"Oh, yeah, I think Sam had it. Ohmigawd, what if I passed it on to you! I'm so sorry!" I felt guiltier. She didn't deserve a fat, lying friend like me. She should be surrounded by pretty, honest people.

"Chill Jen, it's not that bad. People get sick. Can you leave so I can clean up please?"

"Sure, sure. If you need anything, tell me!" She said, hurrying out of the room.

I sighed and flushed the toilet. I washed my hands and brushed my teeth, anxious to remove the lingering taste of vomit from my mouth.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and ran my hands over my stomach. I was still a fat cow. I bit my lip and turned away from the mirror. I couldn't bear looking at myself.

"Hey, I hope you'll be well enough for David's visit this weekend!" She called from her room.

David was her cousin and my best guy friend. He visited us monthly and I've known him since I was a freshman in college, the first time Jen and I roomed together.

"Yeah, of course. I wouldn't want to miss a David visit!" I called back. I left the bathroom without a second look at the mirror.

Early Saturday, Jen went out to pick up some groceries while I stayed home and watched TV.

In the middle of Spongebob, everything went black. I let out an ear piercing shriek.

I heard a man laugh and hands were removed from my face, restoring my vision.

"Chill out Carrie, it's just me," a blonde man said, sitting next to me.

"Shut up David. Why didn't you knock like a sane person?"

"I still had a key and decided to have some fun. Where's Jen?"

"Getting groceries," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. "I still haven't forgiven you."

"Wait, I have something for you," he said pulling an eyeliner pencil out of his pocket. "Aubergine Dreams. The color you've been wanting ever since you read Invisible Monsters."

"You're forgiven!" I said, taking the eyeliner pencil and hugging him.

We ate dinner late that night, so after purging, I brushed my teeth and changed into my pajamas.

I padded softly towards the living room, but stopped when I heard David say my name.

"Jen, I'm concerned for Carrie."

"Why?"

"Doesn't she look skinnier, like a lot skinnier, than the last time I was here?"

"Yeah, but she's been working out more."

"And I heard her throwing up today," David said, talking over Jen.

"She's sick."

"Then why doesn't she have any other symptoms? Fatigue? Fever? Chills? Loss of appetite?"

"I don't know!"

"And why didn't she go to the doctors?"

"Maybe it's viral!"

"Maybe it's not! Look, I think she's suffering from bulimia. You should confront her about it."

"Why don't you?"

"Because she knows you better and she'll confide in you."

"Okay, I'll ask her. But you might be wrong and she'll be mad at me!"

"Do it tomorrow and I'll back you up."

I crept away at that point. My two best friends had turned against me. They didn't trust me. I felt as if my heart was cut out and I was nothing but an empty shell. I climbed into bed and laid on my side, staring at the wall until sleep took me away.

The next day, after picking at my lunch, consisting of half a cheese sandwich, I entered my room, locked the door and went into my closet. In a plastic supermarket bag was my stash. I opened a bag of chips and ate until every crumb was gone. I drank a glass of water in the bathroom as fast as I could and went over to the toilet.

Kneeling, I stuck my fingers into my mouth, far enough that my fingers could touch my uvula. My stomach contracted and the chips and cheese sandwich came up, out of my mouth and into the toilet. I flushed and washed my hands.

A few hours later, I was reading a book when Jen and David walked up to where I was sitting on the couch and sat down beside me. Jen took the book, placed a piece of paper at the page I was reading and placed it on the coffee table. She folded her hands in her lap. "Carrie, we need to talk to you," she said a little hesitantly.

"Yes, Jen?" I asked calmly. I already knew what was coming. And boy, was I prepared to lie my lips off.

"Well, um, we think that you're, um-"

David cut in, "Carrie, we have reason to believe you're suffering from bulimia nervosa, commonly known as bulimia. And frankly, we're worried for you."

"Why would you say something like that?"

"Look at you, you're skin and bones! You're very secretive about your eating habits and Jen said she's heard you throwing up a lot lately."

"I'm sick."

"Have you been to the doctor?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I was at a loss. I fumbled for an excuse, but David wasn't done. He took my uncertainty as a chance to come in for the kill.

"Carrie, it's obvious that you're sick, but with an eating disorder, not a physical illness. We want to help you."

"You can't prove anything!" I shouted, losing my calm demeanor and becoming hysteric.

David turned on the T.V. where a video camera was hooked up. He grabbed the remote and hit 'play'. A clip played of me, earlier today, kneeling at the toilet, putting my fingers into my mouth, and forcing myself to throw up. He rewound it a bit and freeze framed it until he got to me sticking my fingers into my mouth.

"I don't?"