CHAPTER SEVEN
Riley — 16 years old (Junior year)
I scrub my uniform, trying to clean the stain as much as I can. Except I know I can’t hide this big blob of Bolognese sauce that was purposely spilled on me. My clean, unwrinkled uniform is now sullied and I don’t even have a change of clothes in my locker.
Damn it, the teachers are going to get on my case and probably give me detention. For being “unclean” and not looking like the school’s best standard. Berkshire Academy is unrivaled and well-known for being the private school for the rich. We have a certain standard here, and it needs to be kept at all times. Anyone who breaks those fundamental and unspoken rules becomes an outcast — both by teachers and students.
Our uniforms are new and pristine.
Our shoes are polished, without a stain on them.
Our hair is perfectly-styled, without a single strand out of place.
Our sports teams are unrivaled.
Our students have the best grades in the whole damn country.
Berkshire Academy breeds the next generation of famous CEOs, surgeons, lawyers, scientists, and politicians. Anyone who walks out of here after graduation is unstoppable.
But a lot of times, it’s without merit, and more so because of family name. Nepotism is a harsh reality of Berkshire Academy and its students’ futures.
Once I’m done scrubbing, I drop the toilet paper into the trash. My uniform now has a big wet stain, right in the middle. There’s no way I can hide it, and it’ll take forever to dry. I can’t skip my next class either, since we have a test.
Goddamn it.
Mrs. Solvana, my Pre-Calculus teacher, is a bitch. She’ll probably give me an earful about my “dirty” uniform right in front of the class, to humiliate me further, and then send me to the office. She hates me. And knowing her, she’ll find any reason to stop me from taking my test.
How quickly I’ve fallen…
I went from being the Cheer Captain, one of the most popular girls at Berkshire that everyone respected and looked up to — teachers and students alike. And now look at me.
Someone that doesn’t belong here anymore.
I’m fighting to survive in this shithole. Only because my father won’t allow me to leave and go to another school. He says I either continue at Berkshire or I dropout. But he won’t accept a dropout as a daughter, so here I am.
He says a Johnson never cowers, never runs away, and never fails.
But this Johnson is.
Riley Johnson is everything but respected now.
I still remember the day when I told my father about Jasper’s betrayal.
“He deleted the photos and videos, and that’s it? No consequences?” I question incredulously. “He shared them publicly without my consent. He took them without consent. He should be facing some kind of repercussions. This is not okay!”
My father’s eyes darken. “You want me to file a case against the Chief of Police’s son? You’re more delusional than I thought, Riley. Do you realize how much power Jasper and his father have? I refuse to become an enemy of Matthew Baker because of you. I’ve spoken with him and Jakob both. Matthew promised his son will delete the photos and videos he took of you. And it’s done. There’s no need for us to keep going back and forth with them.”
“But my reputation—
“Wouldn’t have been tarnished if you hadn’t whored yourself out in the first place!” my father roars.
I flinch, taken aback by his unmasked fury. Why is he angry at me?
I didn’t…do anything. My heart thumps in my chest, and pain grips my stomach, revolting, and I strain against it.
“I didn’t whore myself out,” I whisper, both hurt and confused. “You told me to please Jasper, to keep him happy and interested in me.”
Please Jasper, to please my father.
Keep him happy, to keep my father happy.
My father gets right into my face and I lean back against the chair, trying to put some space between us. But he doesn’t allow me that reprieve. His hand holds my face, his fingers digging into my cheeks, so painfully, I have to blink back tears. The backs of my eyes burn, and my flesh, where his nails are digging into, stings heavily.
“Are you suggesting that I forced you to become a slut for Jasper?” he hisses menacingly, his spittle landing on my face. “You did this to yourself, Riley. You irresponsible, little bitch. You tarnished your own reputation, and with it, you tainted mine too. Jasper doesn’t have to bear the consequences of this. You have. And you will.”
He releases my face roughly, and my head snaps back. Sniffling, I look down at my lap.
Is this what my father thinks of me?
A whore…?
Someone this unworthy?
Defeated, I close my eyes as the sound of his footsteps drift away and I am left alone, sitting in this dark, cold house.
People say that your house and your family are the place you feel the safest, where you belong. The place where you run to, to hide from the storm, to survive the hurricane.
But this is not a home.
It’s a tomb — a sophisticated, glamorized tomb that keeps up the illusion. But it’s a grave, nonetheless. And I’ve merely been rendered to a living corpse, waiting to be buried under this cursed land.
“Oh, look who’s hiding in the bathroom. Smelly, slimy Riley.”
Mocking voices snap me out of my drifting thoughts. Jenny and her circle of mean girls join me in the bathroom. Great, as if them tripping me earlier and having me spill my Bolognese spaghetti all over my uniform was not enough. Not that I was going to eat it, anyway. I don't have lunch at school. I never eat in front of anyone.
They think I eat.
But I’ve mastered the act of faking it.
When my photos and videos were leaked by Jakob, we only had a month left of Sophomore year. So, while the rumors spread like wildfire, the bullying wasn’t that bad. I was able to avoid it as much as I could. Anyway, I still had Elaine and Blythe on my side then.
And when summer came, I hid away. In my bedroom, surviving within my four walls.
If I wasn’t at home, my mother was dragging me to whatever modeling gig she could get her hands on or she was able to get me some random cameo roles in TV shows.
My summer was busy and away from Berkshire’s bullies. Everything was almost tranquil for a short period of time.
Except, that didn’t last long.
We had to return to school again and that’s when the real bullying began. The name-calling, more rumors — all of them fake, were spread, and then what started as verbal soon transcended into physical. My pinky still throbs with a phantom pain, a reminder of how it was fractured. The cast was removed two weeks ago.
After a while, it wasn’t just the students. The faculty of Berkshire Academy turned on me too. And that’s when I learned that once the number of bullies becomes large enough, it’s easy for the faculty to blame the victim both for psychological and practical reasons.
After all, I am the nexus of all trouble caused by the bullying, and regardless of whether it is my fault or not, it’s easy to blame me, the one who is always there when trouble happens. Especially when the majority of students are pushing the narrative that I am actually the one who is causing the problems.
So, at some point, I stopped reporting the bullies.
I stopped fighting back.
When I started my junior year four months ago, I became a social pariah at Berkshire Academy. But I was also a reject in my own home, with my own family.
An outcast, through and through.
“Did you clean your vagina properly this time?” Rita sneers, disdain apparent on her face.
“This is getting old now. Do yourself a favor and find a new rumor to spread,” I snap, glaring at Jenny and her “new” friends.
A few weeks ago, Jasper told his fellow football friends that the only reason he couldn’t bear to have sex with me again is because I have terrible vaginal odor.
Hence the nickname: Smelly, slimy Riley.
I cried the first time I heard the rumor, and then I laughed. Because the rumors were becoming more and more detailed, yet so inaccurate that I had to applaud their imaginations.
I try to move past them, but they block my path to the door. I roll my eyes, faking nonchalance, but icy fear spreads through my veins. Last time they ganged up on me like this, I went home with a black eye and a fractured pinky. It took a lot of makeup to cover the marks they left on my face.
“This is getting quite predictable now.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare them down. I don’t cower, because a Johnson never cowers. “Get out of my way.”
Jenny lets out a throaty, taunting laugh. “Or what? What can you possibly do, Riley?”
“Ganging up on me like this? Five against one? Who is the coward now, Jenny?”
My muscles tense because I know I’m making this worse for myself, fueling their hatred and their need to force me to my knees. It’s a game of authority — the ultimate power trip. To make me bend, to have me quaking and cowering at their feet.
To humiliate me.
“All of this for what?” I plaster my fake pageant smile on, knowing it will just piss them off even more. I refuse to beg for mercy .
They won’t break me.
They can’t break me.
“A tiny two-inch dick?” I continue, with a humorless laugh. “Please, Jasper is not that good of a lover for you to go that hard for him.”
Jenny growls and lashes forward, backhanding me in the face. The copper taste of blood instantly fills my mouth and I lick my bruised lips. Bethany, Jenny’s younger sister, kicks the back of my legs and I fall on my knees. Her two other friends circle around me, grabbing my arms and tugging them roughly behind me. Forcing me to curve my shoulders low to avoid them pulling my arms out of their sockets.
Jenny bends low, putting her face close to mine. “You’ve always fancied yourself a mighty princess, invincible and on the top of the ladder. But you’re easily disposable, Riley.” Her long, perfectly manicured nails dig into my cheeks, and I know she’s cut me when my skin starts to sting. Pain throbs through my face. “Where did your beauty get you? Being called the school’s whore. Where did being rich get you? Being the school’s clown. Where did your so-called popularity get you? Friendless and a sad reject. Even Elaine and Blythe want nothing to do with you anymore. You’re nobody .”
The bullying doesn’t hurt. The rumors and all the embarrassing shit they’ve forced me to endure. None of that caused me more pain than Elaine and Blythe turning their back on me when I needed them the most.
Once I became an outsider within Berkshire Academy, they refused to be associated with me anymore. To save their own reputation .
While they didn’t actively participate in the bullying, they watched as I was pushed into the lockers. They watched as I was tripped and made fun of, and sometimes, they joined in on the laughing and mocking.
I guess we were friends only because it benefited them, not because they cared about me.
My eyes flash toward Jenny. “I’m nobody and you are just a jealous skank.”
Outraged, she backhands me again.
I laugh. “A dirty traitor,” I spit through the bloodied lips. “You are jealous because I caught Jasper’s attention first. You’re jealous that even though it was for a bet, I was his girlfriend first . You’re just jealous because you’re second best.”
This time, her slap has my head snapping back and I hit the wall. My ears ring and there’s a dull pain in the back of my skull. The ground underneath my knees spins until my stomach revolts as they drag me across the bathroom floor on my knees. Jenny is screeching something, but her words fall on deaf ears.
The only time the world stops spinning is when my head is submerged in cold water.
My body automatically reacts, adrenaline flowing through my icy veins, and I start struggling against their captive hands, struggling to breathe, but I only end up choking as I run out of breath.
Fingers dig into my scalp, painfully and mercilessly, as they keep me under.
My struggles turn violent, and then my head is being lifted away from the water. I’m only allowed a brief reprieve, one single inhale before Jenny dunks me back into the toilet bowl.
Water rushes through my ears, and I hold my breath.
My heart thuds loudly against my rib cage, almost like it’s trying to break free from its confinement and my muscles seize.
The humiliation.
The heartbreak.
The hate.
The emptiness that swallows me.
Everything crashes through me like a messy tirade, unstoppable and destructive.
My mind shuts down, and the next time she lifts my head, I close my eyes. Water sluices down my face and I feel her warm breath next to my ears. “I’ll make your life a living hell, Riley. Do you know why? Not because I hate you. It’s because of that petty arrogance you have. Even now, when you’ve fallen so low, you still walk with your head high. That confidence of yours? It won’t last, as long as I’m your enemy.”
She releases my hair and her friends drop me to the floor. My face, my hair…my uniform, everything is wet and dirty.
Closing my eyes, I take in several deep breaths. My nose is running, and my sniffles echo around the four walls of the bathroom. Their footsteps fade into the background, and I briefly hear the door closing.
Silence fills the bathroom. There are no more voices. No more laughter, jeers, screams or mocking giggles. I can almost hear the dust particles float around the room.
Rubbing my hand over my face, I try to wipe away the water residue that’s left on my skin. So, me not cowering to my bullies is arrogance?
I am ruined, but I refuse to let them win.
Poor, little, insecure Jenny and her asshole boyfriend.
I open my eyes, staring at the ceiling, and a cold laugh escapes my bruised and still bleeding lips. “I guess I’m failing my test,” I say out loud, to no one specific.
There’s an awful feeling pricking my chest, a mix of despair and frustration. Anguish and rage. So much rage. At them, at my parents, at myself.
Struggling to my feet, I move to the sink. The girl staring back at me in the mirror’s reflection is unrecognizable. My hair is drenched, messy strands plastered to my face. My mascara has left black streaks down my cheeks, and my eyes are bloodshot. My lips are swollen, and bruised. My face is pale, except for my right cheek that’s turning an ugly shade of purple from Jenny’s slaps. Her rings must have caught my skin, because there are two rough cuts on my cheek.
I hate this…
— this feeling of worthlessness.
What is my value now?
***
The rich, savory taste of pizza fills my mouth and my taste buds are tingling. Soft, springy texture of bread, sweet and savory tomato and cottage cheese. Salty olives, sour pineapples and chewy, roasted meat.
Everything tastes like heaven, and the euphoric feeling of binge-eating courses through my body. Even though I know once I’m done, I’m going to be filled with disgust and the need to purge will overcome my senses.
But, right now, I just can’t stop stuffing my face with everything flavorful and gourmet.
My brain barely registers the lack of control, and my hands — shaky but desperate to reach for the next pizza slice. I can’t stop. I need this.
I can’t get my hands on this food, that food and all the food in front of me. It’s a buffet, yet not enough. A buffet that I can’t eat fast enough.
My brain doesn’t even recognize the calories I’m stuffing in my body. All my senses are filled with pure bliss — the delight that comes with indulging.
I need more.
It’s okay if I eat another slice…it’ll be the last piece I eat.
Lies. Lies. Lies.
Half of my tray is cleared, and that’s when it starts hitting me. The euphoria and adrenaline that accompanies my eating is replaced with guilt and shame. Sadness and anger.
Yet I can’t stop.
This is wrong.
But I can’t stop.
I shove another spoonful of whip cream in my mouth, and I don’t stop until the container is empty.
I need to stop. This is bad.
Sniffling, I drop the empty whip cream container, and grab the Oreo package. I shove three Oreos in my mouth, chewing until my jaw hurts and my stomach cramps.
Why am I doing this?
Why can’t I fucking stop?
No more pizza, no more Nutella, no more whip cream, no more Oreos, no more bread and carbs and calories. No more—
A loud urgent knock interrupts my thoughts, and I drop the package onto my lap. “Riley?” my mother calls from outside the door. “What are you doing? We have to leave in five minutes.” Her voice is cold and stern.
Wait…what?
“What?” I ask, loud enough for her to hear me through the door. “Leave, where?”
She bangs on the door again. “Open this door right now!”
My eyes grow wide, and panic surges through me. Jumping off my bed, I drag everything down, hiding the tray and all the trash from my binge-eating under the bed.
I can’t let my mother see this.
She can never know.
No one can ever know.
This is my ugly secret.
I quickly rub a hand over my face, catching any leftover crumbs to make sure I am presentable enough for Nora Johnson.
When I open the door for her, she barely spares me a glance, pushing past me to stomp into my room. “Why are you not dressed yet?”
Confused, I can only stare at her. My stomach is bloated, and I feel a rumbling deep inside me. I’ve never had someone walk in on me while I was binge-eating. And I’ve also never had someone interrupt me before I can purge.
Blood roars between my ears, and I feel sick.
“Riley! Are you listening to me?”
I can barely focus on my mother’s irritated voice as she speaks to me. “What?”
“How can you forget about the Christmas gala?”
I blink. “I thought it’s tomorrow.”
Her eyes sharpen with a deadly glare. “No, you stupid girl. It’s tonight.”
It’s now that I notice my mother’s attire. She’s wearing a silver evening gown, with her favorite black fur wrap around her shoulders. She has a cloud-pearl embellished clutch in her hands and a heavy diamond necklace around her neck.
She looks posh and elegant — expensive , exactly like the Nora Johnson she’s known as. The perfect image of a rich, billionaire wife.
She stares at me exasperatedly, as if I’m a naughty, unruly child.
“The gala is tonight,” I say blankly. How did I forget such an important event? My father has been mentioning it every chance he gets. The charity gala is the event for him to gather more social connections. He needs all the support he can get since he’s running for Senator.
My mother sighs in frustration before she heads to my walk-in closet and starts rummaging through my various evening gowns.
She walks back out with a plum-colored strapless gown thrown over her right arm and a pair of black heels in her left hand.
I take a step back, shaking my head. My stomach churns with nausea, and I need to get rid of all those calories I forced into my body. The food I consumed was more than what my body can hold, and the desperation to release it claws under my flesh.“I need to use the bathroom first.”
My mother scoffs and grips my elbow. “We don’t have time for this, Riley!” She drags me to my white vanity and forces me to sit down on the plush stool. “Your father is already waiting downstairs and we’re going to be late. You know very well how much your father hates lateness!”
No, she doesn’t understand.
I need to purge, or I won’t make it through the night. The food has settled roughly in the pit of my stomach, and it’s causing me uncomfortable cramps.
“Mom!” I yell, tears burning the back of my eyes. “I need to use the bathroom! Just give me ten minutes, please .”
The image of me bending over the toilet, retching as I dig my fingers down my throat fills my mind. This is what I need right now.
My gaze falls on the scrapes on the backs of my knuckles, and I try to hide my hands in my lap. I know some people can purge without using their fingers, but as much as I’ve tried, I just can’t do that. It’s also the reason why I always keep my nails short, much to my mother’s dislike, to avoid injuring my throat or causing any infections.
My mother’s hand tightens around my arm, and she pinches me, right above my elbow. It stings and I wince. Our eyes meet through the mirror, and her face is flushed with anger. “I’ve had enough of your attitude, young lady. Get undressed, now! We literally only have five minutes to do your hair and makeup.”
I swallow down my nausea and do as I’m told. I am my mother’s dutiful daughter.
Compliant, faithful and docile.
Once I’m dressed, she’s pulling my hair into a neat bun while I try to quickly do my makeup. She studies me through the mirror, and I wonder if she can see all my imperfections, all the ugliness that I keep inside me.
“You are lucky you got your natural beauty from me,” she compliments haughtily, but I know the praise is more for her than me. “Here, use the red lipstick. Bright red lips always complete any look.”
I’m dressed and ready to go in exactly eight minutes.
My mother rushes me out of my room and down the stairs, where my father is waiting in the lobby. He barely spares us a glance. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter in apology under my breath.
“Lateness is unladylike,” he grumbles harshly.
“I understand, I won’t be late again.” The diamond choker around my neck feels more like a restraining collar than a pretty, expensive necklace that was gifted to me on my birthday.
On our way to the venue, my stomach feels bloated. It’s painful and profoundly uncomfortable, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I fidget in my seat, and the lulling movement of the Range Rover has my stomach roiling with nausea, but I keep swallowing it down.
My throat burns with acidic bile. Deep breath , I remind myself. Just like I’ve read online.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
When the car comes to a halt, I release a shuddering breath and plaster on a fake smile before stepping out. It’s a smile I’ve mastered. The one that tells people that Riley is in control, even when she’s spiraling out of it.
The one that speaks of confidence, even though she’s shriveling from the inside.
I am Riley Johnson: poised and confident. Calm, cool and collected. The perfect lady that my mother raised and my father expects me to be.
They see what I want them to see.
And it’s always been like that for as long as I can remember.
Dutiful, quiet, ladylike.
My mother and father walk inside, her hand around the curve of his elbow. They truly look like a power couple, walking with utmost confidence and authority.
I follow quietly behind them, ignoring the camera flashes.
Only I know that their marriage is loveless. An arrangement to further my father’s political career. My father needed an upper-class bride, and my mother needed a man with great wealth and social standing. Their marriage is a sham, and I am the unpleasant result of their fake love.
The air is cool inside, but I tense when I see the people — all of them in their fancy dresses and suits, champagne glasses in their hands and judgmental looks in their eyes.
The temperature rises in my body, and I suddenly feel suffocated.
I’m always on my best behavior during any social gathering, with my pretty smiles as I converse with anyone who approaches me. But I hate it.
I hate the crowd.
I hate the voices.
I hate the soft playing orchestra in the background.
I hate every sound that mingles together and my ears start to itch. My throat closes up, and I have to force myself to swallow past the heavy lump that’s lodged in my throat.
But my smile never once falters.
Socializing is a skill I’ve mastered since I was a little girl, but I don’t enjoy it one bit.
A server hands me a fruit punch mocktail and I take it with a sweet smile, quietly thanking him before finding myself a lonely corner to stand. I watch the people interact with each other; except, I can’t help but think how all of this is so… fake.
These events are the ultimate power trip. A place where gossip festers, secret rivalries are made and worst of all — reputations are ruined by extremely judgmental, rich brats.
I’m sipping on my mocktail when my gaze falls on someone familiar. Someone I recognize. Someone I never want to see at these types of events.
Our eyes meet from across the room, and I blink in astonishment. The social mask I’ve been wearing, the one that covers my emotions and the ugliness that resides in me, cracks open.
He sees it — my shock and dismay at seeing him.
And Jasper smirks knowingly.
But how can I be so stupid ?
I should have known he would be here. I should have expected it, at least. Except it completely slipped my mind earlier, while my mother was rushing me to get dressed.
Now Jasper is here. We’re in the same room, and this is not Berkshire Academy, with students our own age. This is a public gathering, with cameras and disparaging eyes from well-established adults.
Shit.
Fear creeps back into my heart and I lick my lips. Gripping my glass harder, I try to hide the way my hands shake. I move toward my father, and when I’m close enough, I grab onto his elbow. More for support than anything else. I need something— someone to keep me upright.
“Did you know Jasper was going to be here tonight?” I whisper to him, as he briefly gives me his divided attention.
He stares at me blankly, and I already have my answer before he responds. “What did you expect?” His tone is stiff, almost as if he finds me bothersome.
I swallow, almost choking on my saliva. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“What’s there to warn you about?” he scoffs. “Stop acting like a petulant child, Riley. Don’t embarrass me here.”
I’m not trying to! I want to scream.
But he won’t listen.
My father never listens, unless whatever he wants to hear benefits him in some way.
I let go of him, and he goes back to his conversation with whoever he was talking to. Suddenly, everything begins to sound louder. The voices, the laughter, someone’s coughing; I even hear a distant sneeze.
My heart thunders against my rib cage, and I stride away to the bathroom. My legs are shaking so bad, I have to grab onto the sink.
Breathe, Riley. I remind myself. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
I eye the toilet through the mirror’sreflection and the insistent need to purge fills me again. The need to get rid of all the disgusting shit I consumed earlier. I can almost imagine the grease of the pizza, the calories that came with the whip cream and Oreos that I ate, building into my stomach. Festering like a raw, hideous wound inside my flesh.
The bathroom door clicks open. “I have to say, you look pretty ravishing in that dress.”
My stomach sinks before I ball my fingers into fists. His voice is grating and I push away the fear that slides through my veins, like acid.
“This is the ladies’ bathroom, Jasper. Why are you here?”
He walks up behind me, his bigger body looming over mine. I’m tall at five foot seven. While Jasper is not much taller than me, he’s more muscular. “Because you’re here.” His dirty smirk widens. “You look pale, Smelly Riley. And I’ve haven’t even begun terrorizing you yet.”
“This is not the place for it,” I hiss.
Jasper shakes his head and I don’t miss the way his eyes darken with something sinister. “No, this is the perfect place for it.”
His arm goes around me, his hand cupping my breast over the gown. My jaw tightens and I fight off the aggression coursing through me. I can’t imagine how much trouble I’ll be in if I punch Jasper here, at the Christmas gala.
I grip the sink tighter, until my knuckles ache. He gives my breast a taunting squeeze. “Are you adding molestation to your numerous charges, Jasper?”
He chuckles darkly in my ears. “It’s not molestation if you want it, Smelly Riley.”
His other hand moves to my abdomen, and then lower, until he’s cupping me between my legs. My whole-body flushes in mortification. I roughly push back against him, and he briefly loses his balance, his hands falling away from my body.
I feel hot — not with desire. Oh, no, no. I feel hot, with uneasiness and shame. My head spins, and I wobble away from Jasper. “You will never touch me again. The next time you dare do that again, I will break your arm. I swear.”
He raises his eyebrow in question, almost mockingly.
“You have an ego problem,” I hiss, fighting back enraged and panicked tears. “Truthfully, it doesn’t match that small dick of yours.”
His face turns red, the veins bulging at my words. Jasper takes a threatening step toward me, but I’m already swiveling around and heading out the door. His fingers brush against my bare arm, but he doesn’t get a chance to grab hold of me.
Disgust curdles through me, and the food that’s still in my stomach becomes unsettling. My belly twists painfully, as I search for my dad through blurred vision.
Someone grabs onto me, and I hear them asking if I’m okay. But I can’t answer.
I can’t… breathe.
Fighting back the dizziness, I reach forward blindly. Panic surges through me, and I can’t think. I can still feel his touch on my skin, the way he grabbed my breast and how he cupped me so shamelessly.
The devils on my shoulders are silent. But the voices around me… everything is too loud .
Help…
My stomach revolts and nausea builds.
My rapid heartbeat is accompanied with cold sweat and my body starts to shake. Hyperventilating, I call out weakly, but I don’t think anyone hears me. “Daddy…”
I let out a choked sob. “Help me, please.”
My full stomach roils again, and I fight the urge to gag. Tears slide down my cheeks, and my throat closes up. The lump grows heavier and heavier. The disgusting feeling of sickness surges through me, clawing under my flesh like a poisoned disease.
No, I should have purged everything I ate before. If I don’t…I’ll grow fat and ugly. People will see it. They will see how my stomach distends. They will see the rolls on my thighs. They will see…everything I’m trying to hide.
I won’t be pretty anymore.
No…
I need to be beautiful. I am my mother’s daughter.
I am powerful. I am my father’s daughter.
This is my value.
I need…
Oh God, I can’t.
I can’t…do this.
Jasper’s voice, Jenny’s taunts — the mocking and everything else fill my head. My ears echo with them, so loud, it’s almost deafening.
The world spins.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My father grips my arm, and he’s shaking me.
Time slows.
“Riley! Riley, get a hold of yourself!”
Through a blur of faces, I see my mother staring at me. Her expression is shocked and disturbed, embarrassed.
Poised and confident. Calm, cool and collected — I am none of those.
That’s the last thought in my head before my stomach cramps so terribly, I hunch over. A pained sound escapes my lips, and then I’m retching all over my father’s shiny shoes.
Once the damn breaks, it doesn’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I’m sobbing. My mother is screeching in disgrace. I hear my father swearing.
The rose-tinted glass that has surrounded me since I was a child shatters. Inside, I am just a broken, hideous girl. I can’t hide behind the illusion that was Riley Johnson anymore.
Everyone sees the disastrous truth.
They see me.
Ugly and ruined. Completely wrecked.
My knees weaken and I fall to the ground, before my eyes roll back in my skull and the world goes black.
Complete, utter darkness surrounds me, dragging me into the abyss that’s been calling me for a long time now, but I’ve been fighting so hard against it.
I lost the battle.
I died in the war, my body disintegrating into nothingness.
And then…
Silence.
The next time I wake up, I hear voices around me. Familiar ones. My father and mother are arguing. I keep my eyes closed, barely hiding my wince as my head throbs painfully. It feels like I’ve been hit with a truck.
The memories of tonight assault me from all sides.
I still smell like vomit, and my mouth tastes bitter.
“How did you not know about this?” My father questions, his tone filled with accusations.
“ You didn’t know either! Oh God, I can already see the subject of the tabloids tomorrow. This is going to be all over social media. You won’t be able to stop this or keep it hush, hush.”
My father growls and then I hear a glass shattering. “The public humiliation I had to face because of this stupid girl.”
“What are we going to do now?” My mother mutters. I sense her pacing back and forth, and I can almost imagine her wringing her hands in tension.
“I don’t want her anywhere near us. She needs to be gone. She’s sick !”
He wants me gone? What…does that mean?
Fear propels me to sit up, and dizziness swamps me. My father notices that I am awake, and his eyes — oh his eyes are dark and livid.
I lick my dry lips. “ I’m sorry .” My voice is barely a whisper, but they hear it.
They hear it, except they don’t care.
My heart thumps in my chest when I try to speak again. My body is weak, broken under the traumatic events of tonight, but I keep my spine straight. “I can get help. There’s a therapist I researched—
“Pack your bags,” my father says roughly, cutting me off, “you’re leaving tonight.”
My lungs squeeze, painfully. “W-what do you m-mean?” I stammer helplessly. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m sending you to a rehab place I know.”
Rehab?
My eyes widen, and I scramble to my feet. “Wait, but what about school? I can’t just leave.”
I know I need help…
I’ve always known, but somehow, I chose to stay quiet, chose to stay willfully blind. Because it was easier that way. Better.
It was the illusion I created around me.
My father stalks over to me, and his hand comes up. He grips my face, his fingers digging into my flesh. “Do you realize what you did tonight? Do you realize the mess you’ve left behind for me to clean up? Do you really think I’ll let you stay here after the disgusting chaos you caused tonight?”
“It’s not my fault,” I cry out brokenly. “J-Jasper, he tried to—"
My father backhands me so hard, my head spins, and I gasp, my breath stuttering in my throat. “Shut up,” he roars, his spittle landing on my face. “I am done with your constant excuses. Always blaming someone else for your stupid, stupid mistakes.”
He pushes me away from him, and my body crumples to the ground. “Please… please , don’t force me to leave.”
I can’t go to rehab.
I can’t go to a place I’m not familiar with. Just the thought of it fills me with extreme anxiety and I can’t breathe, can’t think straight.
I just…can’t.
“Why do I need to go to rehab? We can find a therapist here. I don’t need to leave school; I don’t need to leave home .” — the only place I’ve known all my life. Even though it’s a tomb, it’s the only place I belong, right?
I grab onto his ankle, sobbing helplessly. “Please, Daddy,” I beg, leaving my bleeding heart at his feet. “Don’t force me to leave. Please. I can’t go. I can’t… please. ”
If I go, I’ll lose whatever is left of my sanity.
My father squats down, so we’re at eye level. There’s no remorse, not an ounce of emotion on his face, except anger and disgust. “Listen to me carefully, Riley. You ruined my reputation tonight and you will fix it. This is how you’re going to fix it. I’m putting you in the best, most expensive rehab in the country. You will stay there, until things calm down. Until the rumors die down and until whatever you did tonight is forgotten. We will tell the world that you’re getting the help you need, and they will be satisfied with that. And you and your anorexic self will stay out of my sight. Understood?”
“Bulimia,” I whisper, the sound of my heart shattering echoes in my ears. It’s the first time I’ve said it — admitted it out loud. “I researched…I have bulimia, not anorexia.”
His lips curl with a sneer. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. You’re leaving tonight. Get changed, pack your bags and get the fuck out of my sight, Riley.”
Tears slide down my cheeks and I choke on my sobs. My father walks away, leaving me and my mother alone. “I can’t go, Mom.”
“You need help,” she says, grimacing, “you’re sick .”
I see the look on her face, the unguarded expression she gives me. My gaze falls to the floor, my body growing numb. Coldness seeps into my bones, and my heart withers.
“I know I’m sick, but why does that disgust you?”
Her answer is silence, and as her footsteps fade away, I let out another wretched cry. “Why? WHY? Why does that disgust you? Why do you…hate me so much? WHY?”
Why can’t you just tell me it’s going to be okay?
Why don’t you care?
Why can’t you just pretend to care?
But I know I will never get the answers to my questions. I rub my hands down my face, swiping away the tears and snot. Then standing up on my shaky legs, I straighten my spine.
They can’t break me.
I won’t let them break me.
My existence has been obliterated, and I pick up the fragmented pieces of my soul with my bare, bleeding hands.
I do as I’m told.
Dutiful. Loyal. Compliant.
It’s a repeated mantra in my head; I can’t escape it no matter how hard I try. The grooming that’s been done to me since I was merely a child.
I pack my bags, and I get inside the waiting car. The moon is full in the dark midnight sky, beautiful. A deep contrast to the ugliness that surrounds my soul, my very being.
And with that, I leave behind the Riley the world has always known.