skin and bone ; riverdale ♡

eighty seven ♡

When I wake up and see the sun pouring in through the window, I realise my heart hadn't given up in my sleep. How unfortunate. I sit up in my bed, groaning in pain as I do so. This bed certainly doesn't feel as comfortable as it did.

My eyes flicker to the door that Cheryl had left open last light, but it's now closed. Betty or Alice must have walked by and closed it. I stretch, trying to rid of the discomfort in my chest. Lazily, I walk over to my bathroom.

Quickly, I undress, stepping under the hot water. I wash and shave as quickly as I can, before getting back out. I lean against the shower door to steady myself. Why do I feel so dizzy from just having a shower? Maybe the water was too hot.

Across the room, I spot my scale, and making my way over to them, dropping the towel that was wrapped around me to the floor. I step onto the scale carefully, so that my wet feet don't slip on the glass. I stare ahead as I wait for the digits on the scale to settle. The number on the scale finally stops. Taking a deep breath, I look down at the bright white numbers. My heart stops when I finally process the figures on the glass scale. I hit my ultimate goal weight. I take a step off, then back on to double-check. Still the same number. Just to be safe, of course, I move it across the room, stepping back on it.

I beam, standing back on the cold tiled floor of my bathroom. I did it. I finally did it. I turn to grab my clothes but catch my reflection in the mirror. My smile quickly turns to a frown as I analyze every flaw on my body. If I hit my ultimate goal weight, then why do I still hate what I see? Maybe I should set a new goal weight.

I tear my eyes away from my naked reflection, pulling my bathrobe on. I head back into my room, thankful that I decided to skip washing my hair so that I don't have to waste time drying it. I tie my hair into a tight, slicked-back bun, far too tired to worry about how much hair is coming out in the brush. I get changed back into my pyjamas. I glance at the time. 7 am. Betty and Alice should be up by now. I grab the water bottle from my nightstand, before heading downstairs. I walk slowly down the stairs, feeling lightheaded. My grip on the wooden bannister tightens as I reach the bottom of the stairs. Alice looks over at me from where she's sat over on the couch with a cup in her hands.

"I was just wondering when you'd be waking up." Alice says, sipping on whatever's in the cup. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

"Just... still feeling a little ill." It's not exactly a lie. I do feel like shit. 

"Sit down," Alice says, making a move to stand up. "I'll do you a cup of coffee and some breakfast. Pancakes or waffles?"

"Neither." I stop her from standing up. "I'm fine, really. I'll just refill my bottle and then go upstairs and get dressed."

"Are you sure? You look really pale today." Alice frowns, standing up and coming over to me. She places her hand on my forehead. "You don't feel like you have a temperature. Actually, you're freezing."

"I'm fine." I insist. "It's just freezing today."

"Are you sure? I can call Weatherbee and tell him that you're not feeling-"

"I'm fine," I repeat myself, wrapping my robe tighter around myself. "I promise."

"Okay, well, make sure you wrap up warm." She says, turning back around. I watch as she walks over to the couch, leaning to reach for something behind it. She stands up with what looks like a shopping bag. "I saw this yesterday, and thought you'd like it."

I open the bag, pulling out a thick knitted baby pink sweater. I grin at my aunt. This is so nice. "Thank you. You didn't have to."

"Yes, I did. You're like a daughter to me, Olivia." She gives me a small smile. "In fact, I wouldn't mind if you started calling me Mom."