The Billion Dollar Mistake

12. Weird Ass Pink Panther

Harper the zombie.

That's who I became after I found out the worst news. Day after day, I did the same thing: went to the gym, work, and returned home to cry in the shower. I would wiggle in a meal every now and then, though food never seemed to taste right. It often left me depending on fries and gummy worms, which was terrible in itself. It was safe to say that I was barely taking care of myself.

I stared at myself in the mirror and hardly recognized the girl staring back at me. My face looked terrible. Even with my excessive amounts of sleep, I still managed to look tired. My poor eyes seemed to be going on a trip around the world, judging by the bags under them. I looked pale. My hair was dull.

I thought pregnancy made you beautiful.

I shuddered at the thought. I never really had image issues until now. I actually used to try and gain weight but now I'm trying desperately to keep it from happening. I wasn't used to hating how I looked. I threw my towel over the mirror and went to get dressed. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a loose sweater. With a slight struggle, I pulled on my work shoes. I sighed with relief as I bent to pick up my apron.

The only good thing that has come out of this predicament is that my body is being somewhat spared. I still looked the same as I did before Cyrenville, just not as lively. My soul yearned to go back to before that weekend. I couldn't wait to get back into the gym and train hard or go to the nail salon and inhale the fumes. I smiled one of my now less frequent, genuine smiles.

I can't wait for my life to go back to normal.
----

It's almost Valentine's Day. Which means I'm almost five months. Which means I only have four months until I can leave and start my new life.

I smiled as I made mental plans. I got to work in the best mood. My boss immediately took notice.

"There's my Harper!" She exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug. I returned it.

"Good morning. What do you need?" I asked, washing my hands.

She rattled off a few tasks. Most of them involved cutting things into hearts. We took the extra cake and made cake cups and pops. She has been avoiding assigning me large jobs since I had a breakdown about some of my cookies turning out oval.

I assured her that I could handle anything she needed me to do. And today she needed me as a waitress. It's rare that people come in and sit anywhere but the bar or outside. So imagine my surprise when I saw three men dressed in all black arguing over who got the cupcake shaped menu.

I sighed and grabbed the notepad and my pen. I grabbed a few extra menus and bounced over to the men.

"Hello, what can I get for you?" I chirped, my ponytail bounced over my shoulder. The men eyed me curiously. The blue eyed guy gave a slight nod.

"We want everything on the menu." He stated simply.

"E-everything?" I stuttered, stealing a glance at my boss.

"Yes. But I want your favorite." He smirked. I rolled my eyes.

"So the entire menu with extra cinnamon bombs." I sang. They nodded in unison.

"Would you want that right now, or will you be taking this with you?" I asked, secretly hoping they would leave. 

I hate waiting tables.

"Bring us the cinnamon bombs and water." A shaggy haired one piped. I nodded.

"I'll get everything right out to you." I smiled.