Minah sat before her latest painting. Looking at with her heart still racing. It was beyond beautiful but not in her eyes.
But it had to. This was the first painting of her own creation that she'd liked in a long while.
It was an oil painting of a girl surrounded by food.
She wondered to herself if this was because of the want to try different kinds of food, or if it was because of her alleged fear of it.
A tiny, rational part in her wanted to stop. It only grew when she heard Tae's story.
But memories... the monsters held her back. His words echoed in her head. Every time she looked at food his disgusting voice and actions came to her mind.
She was 21 years old when she got raped.
She used to be bubbly person with tons of friends. Although she thought the entire university had sister-zoned her, she hid her disappointment over having been single all her life.
That's when HE happened. The devil. The satan.
She met him at inter-university cultural fests a couple of times and had instantly picked up a liking for the tall, charming fellow. They texted, called and all the things couples might do but she found out too late that it was all a trap.
A camping trip to Jeju was where he'd taken advantage of her slightly wasted, if not fully, self.
He told her she was fat.
He told her she was not beautiful.
He told her she was an eyesore.
He told her nobody would ever look at her the way she expected.
He told her she would not get any other action.
He told her she won't get love. The romantic one.
He told the 21-year old that her form will not make a man's heart skip a beat.
She believed him.
She didn't at first. She was completely focused on cleansing herself of his sweat and semen and drool. She would emerge from her gigantic bathroom, an hour or too later, her skin red from scrubbing, over and over again. Her eyes, too, were pools of scarlet, from the crying and wailing.
She had terrible nightmares and had to resort to psychiatric help even of it was for a very short period as she didn't want anyone to know. The sleeping pills brought her dreamless sleep and the anti-depressants robbed her out of her creativity.
At one point, she was merely existing, breathing...
She started feeling better after a year or so. She stopped cleaning herself every four hours. But her attention on her body, remained.
She measured the thickness of her wrists and she pressed her sides to try and feel her rib-cage. She pressed so hard sometimes that angry nail marks would be left upon her porcelain skin. His words were her guide, her drive to reduce weight. His words seeping venom into her mind. She worked out on hours end and refused to eat as much and slowly, three meals came down to two cups of Choco Latte a day from the café near her studio.
Tears sprang from her eyes, she had lost the ability to wail out loud, to produce any sort of noise as she had once when he'd attacked her.
And now, 7 years later, her frail body sitting in front of the canvas she was happy with what she had created. She was happy that Jin fell for her.
She felt so damn fucking happy.
She was giddy with joy.
What started as a wistful smile turned into joyous chuckle
and progressed into a carefree laughter and then began the hysterical hoots.
She was happy.
She saw red, she saw blue.
She saw them mix together forming new hues.
She saw grey, she saw the green,
as envious as always,
Mock her existence.
She saw the lilac, fake as fuck,
grin at her.
She saw the vulnerable pink,
it was almost afraid of her.
It was a painting.
One fucking painting.
She saw the colours spin and swirl,
She saw black.
Unedited AF.
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Dead Weight |Jin.
Fanfiction"You don't need to treat me like a charity case, Jin. There is nothing wrong with me except my weight." What happens when Seoul's second best chef, Jin meets a girl with eating disorder and falls love at first sight? Ongoing.
