Une Fleure Fanée

Week 15 Part 6 (Friday)

     I don't want to dance today. I don't want to get on the bus. I feel so sick, tired, dizzy, weak, cold, and I just want to kill myself. I guess I have to get up, however. If I don't go to the competition, I'll go to the hospital. And that thought alone sends shivers down my spine.

     I nearly collapse to the ground. I need Motrin. I grab the bottle and down two pills. I just need to numb the pain. I stammer to my dresser, picking out a red hoodie with the golden stitching, along with black leggings, putting a red and black sports bra on underneath. Everything is flowing off my body. It's so close to falling.

     Now time for cosmetics. Basic ponytail. More clumps of hair falling out. Oh well. I just need to accept it. If I go bald, so be it. As long as I can still dance, I'll do anything. Even if it means starving for now the eighth day.

     I have to use more and more makeup to hide my dead face. It's boney. That's good, but not good enough. I need to look skinny everywhere else, not just my face. Ballerinas are perfect and beautiful, Lilliana. You are everything except perfect and beautiful. You have to work harder, that's all.

     I have to cover up my cuts before I can flush my pills down the toilet. Last night's cut has barely started to scab up. I put a very thin band aid, a thin barrier, before beating it with foundation. Surprisingly, it blends in, but my vein isn't visible. Blue eyeshadow will do it.

     The Motrin is kicking in. Slight twinge of a headache, and a slight twinge of dizziness, but nothing I can't handle. Mom is drinking her coffee. I silently get an Ensure and pretend to chug it in front of her eyes. That way her suspicions will be at ease.

     We're running late, and we have to get the suitcases in the car. I grab my suitcases, my dance bag, and my phone and take them into the living room. I then grab my Ensure and flush it down the toilet with my pills. After packing my pills, I go back into the main room.

     "You have everything you need? Pills?" Mom says, starting to lug them with me out into the hallway.

     I nod, barely able to drag them into the hallway. After all of our luggage is in the hallway, we drag it to the elevator. For once, I'm glad to use the elevator instead of the stairs. I'm not as strong as I used to be.

     "We're not carpooling today. There's too much luggage," Mom tells me as we lug the luggage out to the car.

     Mom has to put the luggage in the trunk. I can't lift it. You're such a weakling, Lilly. You're like a baby bird. Ugly and weak. I get in the car and I buckle in my seatbelt.

     "So are you ready to prove you earned the jacket?" Mom asks me.

     "Yeah, I think I'm ready," I answer.

     "So who do you think should be part of the team, Paris or Berkleigh?"

     "Paris," I answer instantly.

     Berkleigh betrayed me. I don't want a betrayer on the team.

     "Final question. Who do you think should get the solo at nationals?"

     "I want both of them. Why can't we all have a solo at Nationals?" I ask.

     "Because that would be chaos, Lilly," Mom answers, turning on the radio.

     I lay down, getting a stomach cramp. At least I took my iron pill today. It's not doing much, though. Mom said it should work though. You don't deserve to feel good, Lilliana. You deserve to die.

     I lay there until I feel the car stop. I look at the sunroof. We're at the ALDC. I grab my dance bag, water bottle, and phone and run into the ALDC. Everybody's cars are here. I'm so cold, and the AC doesn't help. Berkleigh's here. I glare at her.