Paint Me Beautiful

her pies and cookies and those stupid ass, mother fucking biscuits.
    My mother shakes her head and continues to cry. I don't want to end up in a clinic or out on the street if they kick me out of the house, so I try to appease her as I hear my father's truck pull into the driveway. I look out the window and see that Marlena is driving my Fiesta in behind him.
    “ What can I do to prove it to you?” I ask her, desperate to get back up the stairs before I see the disappointment in Big Bob's eyes or the determination in Marlena's. Frankly, I'm afraid I'll resort to violence if I get near my sister right now. “If I eat the stupid biscuits and gravy, you'll back off?” My mother sniffles and looks up at me.
    “ That would be a start, Claire.”
    “ Fine. Can you bring them up to my room when they're ready?” She nods, and a small smile lights up her face for a moment. Interesting that the thought of her daughter wolfing down a thousand calories in one meal makes her happy; it makes me sick to my stomach. “Thanks,” I say blandly, turning to make my retreat when I hear the garage door opening. I can only handle so much stress at a time.
    “ I love you, Claire,” my mom calls out, but I don't respond to her, I can't. Out of nowhere, tears have started to pour down my face, and I barely make it to my room before I begin to sob. I collapse to my knees and try to tell myself that nothing is wrong, that I am okay, that I am not sick. Nothing I do helps. I feel more empty than ever before, more out of control, like my life does not belong entirely to me.
    When my mom does bring the food up, the smell makes me dizzy and I wait only a moment before I shovel the gray and brown pile into the toilet and flush it. After that, I weigh myself again and I don't care that I'm wearing shoes and clothes, when I see that the number on the scale is higher than it was this morning, I stick my finger down my throat and make myself throw up. The only things that come up are water and bile, but that doesn't matter to me, all I can think about is how this puts me in control, how I can command my body and it obeys.
    I retreat back into my bedroom and I exercise until I collapse, until sweet darkness consumes me and I drop to the floor with a thump that nobody hears, lay there alone in my pain, bleeding inside and knowing deep down that no matter how skinny I get, that I will never be happy.
    Never.

 

    “ Claire!” I wake up with a groan and roll onto my side, coughing hard enough that my belly muscles clench in agony and bile rises to my throat. “If you don't answer me, I swear to God, I will pick this lock. I know you're mad at me, and I'm trying to be respectful, but sister, I am worried to death about you.”
    “ Fuck off,” I call with a scratchy voice. Water, I need water. I crawl across the bedroom floor on my hands and knees and drag myself to my feet, turning on the faucet and cupping my hands beneath the cool water, so that I can sip it greedily, snorting like a pig as I swallow mouthful after mouthful and wish and hope and pray that it makes me feel better. As of right now, I just feel like I want to die.
    I hear my bedroom door open and end up slamming the bathroom door in Marlena's chubby face.
    “ Leave me alone,” I tell her, leaning against the wood, so she can't force her way in.
    “ Look, I'm sorry about what I said to Mom. I asked her not to say anything to you.”
    “ Yeah, so you could get to me first,” I snort. Marlena is quiet for a moment.
    “ Emmett was pretty upset when you didn't show up today,” she says, and it takes me a second to figure out what she's talking about.
    “ What?”
    “ He said you guys were supposed to go paddle boating today and that you never called or texted. He just stopped by, but I told him you were still sleeping.” My heart thumps painfully in my chest, and I start to cry again. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my cheeks look puffy and fat and disgusting, so I look away and stare at the gray-blue paint on the wall.
    “ Leave me alone,” I whisper as my liquid pain crashes to the floor. The sound is so loud, I swear, it feels like my eardrums are exploding in my head. “I have shit to do today.” I dash my arm across my face and try to get a hold of myself. I can't let myself lose it yet, not when I'm so close. I am going to be famous. I am going to be somebody. I will have money and power and options. When I walk down the street, people will know