Depressed for Love (Lesbian story)

The Bruise

"Brieanna, I'm very concerned about your weight."

"What's so wrong with my weight?" i inquired of my mother as we jumped into her truck to bring me to practice early that morning.

I don't understand why she won't let me drive myself to practice. I'm perfectly capable of it. I guess she just doesn't want me to skip.

Ever since I've been diagnosed, everyone's been pelting me with 'concerns about my weight'.

Taking tests at the Doctor's. They always check my weight. Alot of times they feel my stomach, and once they feel on my rib cage, they quickly pull away and cringe.

Coach Thorn is always on my back about eating extra calories durring the day, and late at night, but I hated to set bad habbits of snacking.

Even Olivia has noticed my low weight. On the ride home from our 'awkward first date', she was curious as to why i hadn't eaten much of our sundae I bought.

If she only knew what I felt for her, she'd understand that if you see an ass hole hit on someone you like, then its kind of hard to eat anything.

My mom pisses me off the worst though. She is such a fucking hypocrite. My whole life she tells me to love and discover myself and she'll always be proud, but she lied.

The day my parents found out I had interest in girls, I was not planning for it to happen at all.

It was a project in class to write a letter that I would never send, and I had interest in another girl at that time. My letter was to this girl telling her that I liked girls, and that I really liked her. My teacher changed her mind on the assignment, and i just kept my letter tucked away in my notebook. I had completely forgotten about it.

One night, I asked my mom to check some homework in that same notebook, and as long as I've known her, I should've guessed that her nosy ass would've looked though my whole damn notebook to find something to bitch about, and when she pulled the letter out, I immediately recognized it as she asked what it was.

I took it from her to 'see what it was' and lied by saying it was a note between me and some friends in class, and quickly threw it away.

Ten minutes later, I find myself cringing at my mother's words.

"YOU'RE GOING TO HELL!"

She dug through my garbage to read my notes. She was so determined to find something, and when she did she penalizes me for it.

I remember the sting of the forks stabbing against my skin as she threw anything she could get her hands on at me. Sadly, we were in the kitchen at that time.

I tried to run from her wrath, but T.V. remotes hurt just as badly as forks.

There was no escaping her. Ever.

"The devil will have you when you go to hell!" I remember her screaming.

"The only devil that will have me is you attacking your own daughter!" I screamed in retalliation.

My sister and father just left the room. That was the only way they could repent from joining in.

That was the first night my mother had beaten me, and that's the night that I stopped having an appetite.

So, in an attempt to ignore and hopefully rid me of my 'homosexual disease', mom complains about my weight.

Ever since I've met Olivia a few weeks ago, I've been eating a little bit more each day. I was pleased with myself that I was finally gaining weight back. That's what everyone wanted, so it felt nice to finally please someone for once.