The Absurdity of Fairy Tales

thirteen

trigger warnings: depression, eating disorders

..

Ask me no questions

And I will give you no answers;

I may bleed red, but inside,

I'm empty and black.

..

"Arielle."

I jump and find Nick leaning against the doorframe, jaw clenched. "What are you doing?" he asks, watching with suspicious eyes as I fiddle with the hem of my sweatshirt, drawing it lower, lower, over the stomach I'd been glaring at.

"I, um, n—nothing," I stutter out, trying for a smile. I meet his eyes for a second and immediately look away in shame. "I, well, um—I hit my side on something and I just wanted to check it out and see if it was bleeding or bruised or anything."

The excuse sounds half-assed even to me, but it's all I have, and I pray with everything I've got that it works. But Nick just looks at me for a second and scoffs, his face hardening.

I should've known I'm all out of miracles.

"I've been your best friend for more than sixteen years, Ar," he says, taking a step toward me. The strength of his gaze makes me sweat; God, he really can see right through me, can't he? "Don't you think I know when you're lying?"

"I'm not lying," I say automatically, shaking my head. I've been hiding myself for weeks; surely I can hide a little longer. I can't let him find out.

"You're starving yourself again, aren't you?" he asks sharply, taking another step closer just as I take a step back. It's not a question this time—it's a statement. Nick knows the truth; he's just waiting for me to admit it.

"I, I, uh—"

He's in front of me before I can say anything else, lifting up the bottom of my sweatshirt with surprisingly steady hands. "I don't see any marks."

I don't say anything; I can't even gather the courage to look him in the eyes. The voices in my head assault me from all sides, sneering, laughing, shaking their heads in derision. How pathetic, they say. What a worthless little thing you are, Arielle. All I can do is stand there, paralyzed with fear, as he tugs the sweatshirt back over my stomach and places gentle hands on my shoulders. "I can see your bones, Arielle," he whispers, and I've never heard him this serious before, not even when he met me outside of St. Valentines. Even his eyes are glassy. "Please don't lie to me."

My mouth wobbles. The back of my neck's tacky with sweat. Please, I think. Please, Nick, don't do this to me.

"Please, Arielle," he says quietly, and it's so broken, so wrecked, that whatever's left of my heart shatters. "Please, Arielle, just tell me the truth."

Lightheaded, I nod. My brain explodes, guilt leaking out of me. Suddenly, I start shaking.

"Why?" Nick wonders, and God, that one word almost rips me apart. Why. I look up in time to catch the sad confusion on his face and it only gets worse. How the hell can I explain this to him? How the hell can I explain to him that the pieces of me just broke? His life is a fairy tale compared to mine. He won't understand—he can't, not until he's stepped into my shoes and breathed in my air and seen through my eyes.

"I—" I whisper, and break off, my head whipping from side to side. "I can't, Nick. I'm sorry, I can't."

Suddenly he's less than a foot away, eyes blazing. "God, Arielle, stop fucking pushing me away!" he hisses, one hand clenched white-knuckled against the countertop. I shrink back against the wall, shaking, and he immediately draws back in apology, running a jerky hand through his hair. "I'm not a little kid you have to shelter from the world. I don't need you to protect me from yourself. I know you're hurting and I want to help. I can't watch you tear yourself apart again. I can't—" he stops, voice cracking. "I can't lose you, Arielle. I can't, because you're the first person I think about in the morning and the last one I think about before I go to sleep. I hear something interesting and the first thing I think is I've got to tell you. I can't get you out of my head, Arielle."