Binge- A Fiction Piece

Standing in front of her bedroom mirror, she begins her nightly measuring process. She pinches what she thinks is fat from her thighs and shakes it back and forth. As she looks at her naked body in the mirror, she wonders how many more nights she will have to spend over the toilet before she reaches perfection. She seems to have forgotten the two emergency room visits last month for dehydration and exhaustion. Her face is pale and hollow, making her look much older than she actually is. Heavy makeup and fancy clothes can only do so much to hide her skeletal frame.

She holds both arms out to the side and shakes them where her bicep is supposed to be. Excess skin hangs loosely from the bone and she can’t take her eyes off the mirror. Her eyes see fat where anyone else would see flesh and bone. Now clenching her hair with both hands she curses herself. The tears are starting. As they slip silently down her face, she makes no effort to wipe them. Her eyes are fixed on the imperfections staring back at her. A handful of hair leaves with her hands as she releases them from her hair. She turns her back to the mirror and picks up her bathrobe from the bed. She slips it on and steps out into the hall. Faintly, voices can be heard from the living room. She retreats back into her doorway and waits. The clock on the wall reads 10:45. Her parents will be in bed by 11. Fifteen minutes to wait. As much as she doesn’t want to, she can’t help but feel excited. Despite the shaking, the lightheadedness, the rapid heartbeat, the results are worth it to her.

Staring into the toilet she takes a deep breath. With her left index finger, she finds her gag reflex almost instantly. Her eyes water as she pushes her finger further and further down her throat. With a swift motion, she removes her finger and starts coughing violently. A steady stream of liquid begins to fill the toilet bowl. She always runs the shower at the same time to deter her parents from coming in unannounced. She looks at the orange liquid in front of her and decides she isn’t finished. With her next release comes a chunkier stream. She moans a little as her stomach muscles tighten over and over again. When she looks into the bowl again she sees something that she hasn’t seen before. The orange liquid is now red. Feeling lightheaded, she leans back on the bathtub and closes her eyes. She breathes slowly in and out to try and calm herself down. Despite her attempts, her heart is beating faster and faster. The room is spinning and the steam from the shower has saturated her shirt with sweat. She attempts to stand by bracing herself on the bathroom sink. Now standing, she hunches over the toilet and uses all of her strength to flush it. There is a knock on the door. The flush must have made too much noise. She sinks to the floor and curls up in a ball. There are two more knocks on the door, this time a little more urgent. She tries to speak but the words don’t come. Moving her mouth over and over again, she whispers “Help me”. The noise from the shower drowns her out. The bathroom that she once came to for empowerment would now be the place where she took her last breath.