A/N: So I've decided to go on with this, with the sequel. I can't promise my updates will be constant, but they won't be forgotten either. This is going to be the last chapter, the part where someone, finds out about Alex, and then the sequel will be about her time in recovery, her thoughts, merely all of that. I appreciate all your kind thoughts and I hope to see more in the future. I'm glad you all liked this and I hope the next version does justice. :) Thanks again!
'Real tragedy is never resolved. It goes on hopelessly forever.' -Chinua Achebe.
The world has never been so blurry as it is now. I keep rubbing my eyes out of happen, because I feel as if they're watering. Glancing at my reflection in the mirror I scoff in disgust and turn away. I hate myself, my own body repulses me. I did happen to notice one thing though, how fucking red my eyes were. The dark, purple bags under my eyes popped out, making it look like someone had painted makeup on my face.
My body shook as I weaved in and out of the rooms of my apartment. I could barely register grabbing armfuls of food and stuffing them into my mouth. I kept eating, wanting to kill away the emptiness, the rawness inside of my stomach. I watched myself in the mirror on my dresser that sat directly across from my bed. With my door shut tightly, I continue to eat, not tasting anything, feeling as if I'm watching myself from the outside.
My limbs felt light and heavy all at the same time, my head ached and my heart pounded rapidly. I ate to try and stop the pounding too, I ate to try and calm the nerves, the shaking that errupted through me, I ate because I needed too. Then I did what I always did, I threw up, added another design to my body, and repeated the actions, all over again. I wanted the bad, scary feelings to go away. I wanted that high, the high I was feeling now, to stay permanently.
I felt a lump grow in my throat and without warning, without even making myself, I collapsed to the carpet and threw up again, and again, until I was throwing up blood and stomach acid. Groaning miserably, I pushed myself back onto my feet and grabbed a towel, soaking it up before it could seep in and stain the carpet. When I felt my stomach turn again, I clutched tightly onto the bathroom wall, breathing heavily in through my nose and out through my mouth, head spinning, body slowly collapsing. I fell to my knees a second time, angry at the fact that I wasn't making myself throw up, that it was happening on it's own accord.
When the feeling of needing to puke again passed, I let out a relieved breath. I'd rather not vomit unless I'm making myself. Sniffling, I turned around and headed back into my room, finding that it began moving much faster then I'd like it too. I felt as if the walls were beginning to close in around me as I made my way carefully to my bed to lay down.
Maybe a nice nap would do me some good?
When I woke up, I'd felt no better then before I went to bed in the first place. The spinning sensation had yet to ease up and my stomach was turning again. My head still pounded ridiculously as I willed my weak body into a seated position. I could feel my ears begin to pop as I pushed back the sheets, god, even that felt like an effort, and a stood up. I had to grip the end table to keep from falling as my legs adjusted to the weight. I felt like I'd put on ten pounds, and as I headed to look at myself in the mirror, I felt my eyes actually well up with tears. I could see the fat, the disgust piling on my body.
What the hell was happening to me? After I'd lost it all, I was gaining it all back!
I began to eat again, just to throw it back up. I angrily slashed my body, more then once, watching as the blood seeped into the cracks of the tiled floor in my bathroom. I felt hot tears slide down my face, my eyes still blurry, my thoughts raging a war in my head. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I wiped away the blood, stumbling a bit as I pulled myself back onto my face. The world began to spin worse then before, everything from colors to furniture blurring together in a erratic mix. My heart wouldn't stop pounding, it wouldn't settle down as I listened to it in my ears, wondering how much longer it'd be till it jumped out of my chest.
As I proceeded to walk out of the bathroom again, for what felt like the umpteenth time today, I could practically see my legs turning to jello, my entire body crumbling as my eyes rolled into the back of my head and my limp body collapsed to the floor. I could hear two faint voices though, before my world went entirely black, yelling my name.
I didn't need to see them to know who it was. Elliot and Olivia were just the people to make unexpected visits to my house, and now was when they chose too? Fuck.