𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝. [rewriting..?]

-chapter : 3-

"Please don't say
you love me.."

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WARNING : [slight hints of an eating disorder, family issues, arguing, yelling, mentions of depression, hintings of an anxeity attacks and descriptions of physical and mental abuse.]

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After multiple weeks of training, your parents decided to go to a restaurant as a family and spend some time together.

So—
you got dressed as soon as they announced the news and off you three went.

Your parents had decided on a Italian restaurant, since they haven't eaten some good spaghetti and meatballs in a while, and you didn't protest.

The three of you made it there in no time with small talk being exchanged along the way, people along the sidewalk chatting away and living their lives—
your dad opened the door for you and your mom, you both thanking him.

A waiter greeted you and escorted to your table, you we're handed a menu rather quickly and soon you began ordering.

"I'll have the spaghetti Bolognese, but without the meatballs and extra Parmesan, please."
your mom ordered, the waiter writing it down hastily onto his notepad.

"And I'll have the ravioli with extra cheese and the salad on the side."
your dad spoke out, yet again the waiter wrote it down quickly into his little notepad.

"I'll have the.. [order of your choice], please."
you said, the waiter nodded before asking, "What would the three if you like to drink?"

Before you could really voice what you wanted, your mother had already decided to anwser for you, "We'll all have a glass of water."
she said, glancing at you with a slight glare making your mouth close and your stomach twist and churn.

The waiter nodded once again before going away into the kitchen, your parents started talking about random things, but you zoned out and instead started picking at your nails—

"—what do you think, [Y/N]..?"
your dad called out, this made you snap out of your daze, your eyes widened making your mothers glare come back.

"Next time when we're talking, listen."
she barked out with venom dripping down her tone making you dread staying here for one more second.

You nodded your head without uttering a word since you didn't want to upset her even more—
god knows what she'd do.

The waiter came back rather quickly with the food and he put it all down skillfully, he smiled and wished that you a good appetite.

You all started digging in, the food being delicious to you since you haven't been eating well the past few days, being too occupied with
training—
you we're quietly enjoying your food, before hearing someone clear their throat.

"So.. how are you enjoying your food,
chubby—?"
your mother said innocently with a warm smile on her face, being fully aware of what that does to you.

Guilt and dread started growing in the pit of your stomach, making you lose all of your appetite—
the nickname made your skin crawl and made you want to rip your ears off because of that fake sweet tone.

You dropped your utensils and went straight to the bathroom, being sick of your mothers shit already.

Hastily, you closed the door behind you making it echo thru out the building, you couldn't bring yourself to care—
snaping out of your daze you realized that your fingernails were digging into your skin making it bleed all the way down to your wrist.

Your foot steeps echoed thru out the empty and lonely restroom as you made your way to the sink, your bloody hands dragging acros the pearly white creating a soft red—
water started pouring from the tap making you wince slightly, as it caressed your moon crescent shaped scars roughly.

[E/C] orbs stared back at you in the mirror, looking blank and slightly blood shot from the tears escaping your eyes, you brought your hands up and rubbed your tears away hastily.

'Mama doesn't like whiny
girls who cry.'

Her taunting voice rang out thru your head, the deafening ringing in your ears growing louder and louder, along with your breath getting caught up into your throat, getting trapped away in your lungs.

Desperately, you tried to catch a breath, your hands clawing at your throat.

'It's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine—'
your thoughts felt like waves crashing thru you, they we're all jumbled up and too loud alongside your
ringing ears.

You started focusing a bit more in your breathing, making sure to breathe slowly, you clasped your hand to your mouth, and soon you calmed down, the ringing in your ears vanishing too—
slowly you splashed some water, making sure to not look into the mirror otherwise you'd see her again.

Finally, you composed yourself enough to go outside again.

.

Everyone was conversing in the restaurant and minding their own business, you we're glad that noone noticed your episode.

Your shoes made soft noises behind you, as you slowly but surely made your way towards the table, your mom and dad chatting away as if nothing had happened—

you pulled out 20.000 ¥ out of your pocket before you put in down onto the table.

"Oh—? Leaving so soon—"
before your mother could continue chatting her shit, you grabbed her by her collar, your fingers slowly turning white from your iron grip.

Your [E/C] glared at her with zero remorse, your eyebrows twitching in annoyance.

"Shut the fuck up."
you barked out, before removing your hands from her collar, your mother shivered at your tone it sounded like you wanted to rip her head off.

Her eyes widneded in shock, your dad's following soon after—
and with that you grabbed your things and left.

.

Currently, you we're going God
knows where.

All you knew, was that you just needed to get away from everything-
and you found just the perfect place for quieting and calming down.

A lonesome looking beach
with noone near.

You tore off your stupid fancy looking shoes before you threw them sonehwere in the sand, hoping they'd get ruined that way.

Slowly, you plopped down onto the sand, your ears listening in on the waves and seaguls passing by—
you closed your eyes as you slowly imagined being somewhere far away from them.

You sighed as drowsiness started settling in slowly but surely.

Noone ever really told you how tiring panic attacks can really be.

The eyebags under your eyes had become more prominent, but at this point you couldn't bring yourself to care at all—
the tension in your shoulders disappeared as you finally started relaxing.

Your hands drew pretty patterns in the water, made out of poison that your put back into your body of course.

Pretty patterns flew thru the waters, as your fingers made tiny circles into the wind—
your lips etched into a content smile.

And with a soft sigh
escaping your lips, you left the beach with a light feeling in your chest,
not really caring what would
happen once you arrived home.

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