Addiction

She pretended to be asleep as her sister was the last to leave the house. Keeping her eyes closed, she waited just a little bit longer until the familiar sound of her father‘s droning car killed the sound of her breathing through the walls. Quickly she threw her blankets off her to the wall side, letting the warmth her body had produced underneath, escape. It was a bit chilly because of her sudden movement, but she didn’t mind.
         She raced down to the kitchen window where she could observe the car with her family members driving out of their yard. A few seconds of silence followed. She was alone. No one else was in her house anymore, except her.
         With only one thing on her mind, she went straight to the freezer which was under the fridge. She opened it with a sturdy pull, releasing the cold and allowing it to creep down her spine like a spider with long, tiny legs. Her body shuddered, but she didn’t give a damn about it. Her mind just didn’t have the time to think about anything right now, but one thing, to eat. She was hungry. She was hungry indeed. This girl hadn’t anything going down her throat for the last 36 hours, except some water with no calories.
         The large spoon was already in her right hand. Despite the other objects in the freezer, she pushed them all out the way until she finally reached the ice cream.
         The good, old ice cream. Her parents loved ice cream. She didn’t love it much, and she hated herself for doing what she did, however, ice cream though was very useful for her intention which she had for it. Her grasp was strong. She wanted that damned ice cream now. Hard she pulled it out. She had it. Yes, the damned ice cream.
         In a rush she threw the other food which belonged back inside. A soft blanket of coldness remained, covering her body gently while she sat down with her spoon and the ice cream. The table didn’t look comfortable, neither did the kitchen itself. The kitchen was a cursed place.
         Greedily she opened the 500ml ice cream box and the cool raised up in her nose. The spoon in her hand crashed down into the mixture of food, produced by whomever. Her mouth opened, being eager to eat, to stuff all the ice cream in her hole. Her throat felt frigid, just like her feelings.
         Brain freeze, ssh. This probably was the only thought that could make it through her cells, through to her consciousness.
         Faster and faster she ate. It tasted good, but what did it matter? The taste of this ice cream her parents loved didn’t fulfill the significance of her mind.
         Her brain froze a couple of times, nevertheless she didn’t stop even one second. She continued to stuff the ice cream down her throat.
         Heavily she breathed as she was done with it. Guilt arose in her. Urgh. Her tummy was filled; it was too full; she was too fat.
         Not even wanting to know how broad her tummy looked, she grabbed the emptied ice cream box and threw it into the garbage can, where it belonged to. She quickly cleaned the spoon, so nobody would recognize that she had eaten while they were absent.
         The girl couldn’t bear this up any longer. She had to hurry.
Hurry! It yelled inside of her skull. Hurry! If you don’t hurry it’s gonna cling on your body and you never will get rid of it! Hurry! She obeyed. Quickly, she was done.
         After, she rushed upstairs, with only one target, the bathroom, her toothbrush. She grabbed her toothbrush, leaned over the sink and thrusted the end of it a couple of times deep in her throat, giving her body the signal to act reversely, before the vomiting reflex complied its part.
         She felt the cool vanilla ice cream coming smoothly up her throat; it hadn’t been inside of her long enough to adjust to her body temperature, but the taste was the same. Afresh she thrusted her toothbrush in, deeper; her throat started to hurt, but she didn’t care.
         Rather thin than fat; that’s all what counts; the way doesn’t matter. The pain doesn’t matter, the result is the point. Get out, you damned food! I want to be thin!
Choking she continued without thinking to stop. Again and again she thrusted her toothbrush back in, and again, and again.
         The pressure was high and her nose began to clean itself. What was in her nose now flew down with the vomit, some strings also hung down from her nose. Her throat became sore and injured. While she continued to thrust her toothbrush into her throat, her nose started to bleed. Drop, drop... more blood dropped out of her nose, joining her vomit. Under her bended body a picture of emotions was building up; it was fair and beautiful, a graceful massacre. Her eyes had cried forced tears. They were teary, narrowed, like she had cried for hours. Her make up had dirtied her innocent face as it ran down from her tired eyes over her cheeks, then it fell into the mess of her conflicts.
         Her stomach felt emptied. However, she tried it two more times until no trail of ice cream came out of her body. Her stomach was emptied. She did it.
Gasping, her arms propped her weak body on the sink to stay up. Her legs were getting weak, yet she didn’t pay attention to her legs; she stared at the food. The food she had eaten and thrown up. It still looked fresh, and it still was chilly. Whoever wanted could eat it afresh. Yet it did look different. It was melted though, and her stomach lining lay over it like a veil covering the bride, covering the beautiful in a blurred sight.
         Tightly she held on to her toothbrush on her left hand; her right hand was going down to touch her work. This should be called art. Lithely the stomach lining followed the movements of her fingers as she ran them through it. She had the control over her body. Carefully she rose her right hand, turned it around and wrapped the lining around her spreaded fingers. It was a funny, slimy feeling. No smile of enjoyment became visible on her face though. Not a hint of it, not even a ghost of a smile floated past her face for a second. It was a pleasure to her, to mix her creation, to grasp and twirl it, but her face was an emotionless mask.