The Cheerleader's Freak (In Progress)

2

(TW: Mention of ED and throwing up, abuse)

Chris jerked up from his sleep, breathing heavily and sweat beading at his forehead on his clammy skin. It was dark outside and his alarm clock on his white miniature dresser by his bed read that it was 12 A.M.

"Not again," he whispered as he ran a hand through his strawberry blonde hair. He slowed down his breathing, the rhythm becoming normal after a few moments. He had awoken from a terrible nightmare that had a creature with a deep bass voice calling out his name and could hear his father taunting him about how he looked. 

The anxiety from it all made his stomach churn and he felt saliva build up in his mouth. He jerked the covers back and hurried to his left where a door that led to a bathroom was. Chris raced towards the toilet and heaved what was left in his stomach. He felt a minor headache from the sudden force of it all and his throat felt raw. 

He flushed the toilet and walked to the counter and turned on the sink, running water into his cupped hands and drinking the water, then spitting it out to get the taste of vomit out of his mouth. He sighed and looked up, his reflection mirroring his actions. 

His t-shirt that he was wearing showed off his slightly chiseled arms that were thin. His cheekbones were more highlighted by how much skin was clinging to it. Chris looked at himself in the mirror for a few moments, analyzing every disfigurement that he could find. 

He shook his head and dried his hands on his shorts, walking out of the bathroom. It was enough having his father pick on him and the cheerleaders making fun of him for being a male cheerleader. He was only one because he had talent for acrobatics and he was flexible, so his father being rich and influential, had the school make him a cheerleader and he had been since his freshman year.

He sat on his bed and laid back down, trying to get back to sleep, but he couldn't because he was so afraid of having another nightmare, so he laid on his back, staring at the celling until he could feel himself slowly falling asleep. 

A loud screeching beep went off, making Chris's eyes shoot open and he sat up, leaning over and turning off the clock before it could make any further noise. The clock now read 5:45 A.M. and it gave him thirty minutes before his father woke up, which would give him a window to try and eat something since he began to feel lightheaded from the lack of food in his system.

Chris got out of bed and slowly made his way going to the door while listening for noise. He opened the door and made it down his staircase, which led to the living room and across from it was the dining room and the kitchen.

He made his way into the kitchen, listening for noise and sighs of relief when no noise comes. Chris's stomach rumbled loudly as he laid eyes on some fruit in a basket. He hadn't eaten anything without throwing up lately, due to his bulimia. 

He made a quick move to grab a banana, peeling it and taking a bit. He almost screamed in delight from how much it was great to taste something other than vomit or water.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Chris's father said, causing everything in his body to go on red alert, and suddenly the banana didn't taste as good anymore. Chris turned around to face his dad, a skinny light skinned muscular man with short dirty blonde hair, and he was looking angry.

"You're not supposed to be eating this!" his father snatched the banana out of Chris's hand with one hand and slapping him across the face with the other. Chris held his incoming tears at bay as his cheek stung at the touch and began to redden against his pale skin.

"S-sorry," Chris said, trying not to shrink from suddenly feeling smaller than his father.

"Don't let me catch you trying to sneak food anymore," his father said, storming out of the kitchen, throwing out the barely eaten banana in process. Chris felt tears spill over his cheeks, falling onto his t-shirt. He choked back a sob as he tried to keep his emotions quiet and at bay.