Lolita Brown. Behind her blond hair and enchanting blue eyes lies a world of pain. There are so many labels stapled to her back, everyone knows her life story.
Hunter Kings. A boy once known as trouble from New York, enters Lolita's world in an esc...
M E A N I N G F U L M I S T A K E S Chapter Twenty Nine
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Lying is a terrible thing.
But sometimes, it feels like the only choice.
"Are you sure you're okay?" For the hundredth time, William asks, leaning against my bedroom door frame.
"I told you I'm fine. I think I'm either coming down with something. It might only be something I ate messing with me." I don't look him the the eye because he'll know I'm not telling the truth.
I couldn't bring myself to admit what had happened yesterday. I was embarrassed that I was worth more than a text message, and that I'd relapsed.
Maybe in a few days once I've calmed myself I'll be able to say the words.
William buys my life. My pale face and sagging eyes are convincing enough. "I've stocked up on more flu meds if you need some. Are you well enough to go out today? Myself, Chuck, and Hunter are going out to check out restaurant that opened yesterday. Did you want to come?"
Hunter is hanging out with my friends? Acting as if nothing happened? Betrayal twists my stomach. If he said said something to William or acted upset, by now the blond boy would be interrogating me.
"No, it's okay. If I'm sick I should stay away from everyone for a while. I don't want to make you all unwell too." The familiar sting behind my eyes begins to plead me to release the tears I've held in.
Surprisingly, I hadn't cried as much as I thought. I feel hollow and unable to bring myself to think about anything. Taking control of my eating habits has always numbed me.
I'm scared if I lose the old patterns- that I'll have to think about the world around me. About what had happened between Hunter and I, how he slept with me that ran away. All I got was an unexplainable text message.
I'm use to loss, but every time I experience it, I always have exercise and food to distract me. It's what ruined me last year, but it's what kept me from crashing into darkness.
"Do you want me to make you something to eat before I go?" My stomach almost grows at him for the question.
I'd gotten a grip on the voice in my head once I felt the hospital. Now it runs rapid again and is louder than ever. I can't stop it.
"No, it's fine. I feel too sick at the moment to even think about eating. I'll get up when I'm feeling better and make something." William remains blind to my lies I continue feeling.
"Call me if you need anything." He says me then leaves my room with a smile, then I hear the apartment door open and close. He's gone, and I'm alone again.
My fingers massage my temples as if I could push out the voice in my head. As if I could rid everything my mother taught me. As if I could will enough strength to stop believing slipping or purging meals is the right way.
