Hunger

e i g h t

Week 1

I go downstairs, debating whether to eat, or not. It's two in the morning and my stomach is growling like crazy. My only food today was a granola bar for breakfast and a banana when I got home from school. My excuse for ditching dinner today was sleeping, but I'm up now and starving.

The house was pitch black and it took me a few minutes to get to the fridge. It was no surprise that it was filled with a great amount of food, and fatting ones I may add. Should I make myself a sandwich? I wonder grabbing some cheese and butter.

"Who's there?" I hear a female voice from the stairs.

I put the cheese on top of the counter island in the middle of the kitchen and went to grab the bread, avoiding my mother's words.

"What are you doing?" She asks staring at me from the door, an empty glass of wine in her hand. "You're not eating that at this hour, right?" She asks taking the bottle of red wine from the fridge and staring at me.

I bite my tongue, trying to avoid being mean, or worse, cry. "I'm hungry." I whisper staring at the food in front of me.

"You know that eating carbs after six makes you fat." She says filling her glass. "No wonder you look like that. Have you been secretly eating at this hour every day?" She asks staring at me with disgust.

"I've lost weight mom." I say trying to make her proud. "Three pounds to be precise."

"When I was you age I was way thinner than you." She says proud, taking a sip from her glass. "Everyone was jealous of my figure, almost in the nineties. My lowest was 101 pounds."

I say nothing, and she leaves, probably going to fuck my new dad again tonight, for the fifth time. I put everything away and go upstairs. Christopher's door is open, and I sigh, praying that he wouldn't see me.

I clean the tears that made their way through my face and walked, wondering why everyone decided today that sleeping is not necessary. Why was everyone awake at this hour!

"Hey sis." He says staring at me from his door. He was shirtless, and I could clearly see every single one of his abs and his big arms. I've never seen him like that before. "Like what you see?" He asks, and I take my eyes off his body.

I frown, and his smile disappears. "What's wrong?" He asks, and I take a step back, feeling the wet feelings again in my face.

"Nothing's wrong." I reply with a smile.

What was I supposed to say? I'm hungry? I'm fat? He would for sure laugh.

"You're crying." He says seriously.

"Allergies." I say shrugging.

"Katherine."

"Christopher." I say mocking him.

"How can you be so sarcastic even when you're sad?" He says rolling his eyes.

I take a step towards my room and he grabs my arm pulling me inside his. I've never been inside his room either, why would I? I hate this guy and anything that has to do with him.

"What are you doing?" I whisper not feeling like screaming at him for touching me. I just want to go to my bed and cry myself to sleep, again.

It was big, just like every room in this house, but it was bigger than my own room; not that I care. His bed was probably king size and I wonder why he needed a bed that big. He had a huge tv in the wall in front of his bed, with a door in each side, I assumed one door was the bathroom and the other one was his closet; but I don't know which is which. Surprisingly he had a desk, next to his balcony door and on top there were some books and a MacBook.

"Talk to me." He says taking a sit on the chair in front of his desk.

I take a sit on his bed, and I think he's surprised I haven't tried to leave yet. "What makes you think I would tell you anything?" I ask throwing my back in the bed too. It was extremely comfortable. "Besides," I whisper. "I hate you."

"When will realize that you can hate me all you want, but at the end of the day I'm still your brother."

I sit up and frown. "Ste-

"I know," he cuts me off and rolls his eyes. "Step-brother. But my point is, we live together now. The least we could do is get along."

"I'm depressed not insane." I quickly reply standing up. "Just because I don't feel like punching you right now, doesn't mean that tomorrow I won't be back to avoiding your existence."

"You're mean." He says crossing his arm.

"And you're useless." I say staring at my reflection in the mirror in his dresser.

I don't know if I said that to him, or the person staring back at me, but either way it was true. Too real.

"There you go again." He says frowning. "Stop crying."

"I'm not crying!" I reply, clearly crying.

"You're even uglier when you cry." He says.

I knew he must be joking, but it was true. I quickly made my way to him, wanting to punch his perfect face, but he grabbed my arm. I stumbled making my way to his lap, I sighed frustrated.

"I hate you." I say kicking his chest, tears falling down my face.

"I hate you too." He replies staring at me, not doing anything to stop me from hurting him.

I stopped after a while, and realized I was sitting on his lap. I went to stand up, but he stopped me, putting his hand on my waist.

"Don't." He whispers, cleaning the tears from my face with his thumb. "Are you done yet?" He asks, a sigh escaping his lips.

I nod, frowning. Why was he being nice? I'm too big, too ugly, too fat and I'm clearly not nice. He should just, be like the rest of this family, too honest, and admit that I'm just a burden to him and everyone else.