Hi guys! I'm back! I have a longer and more explanatory A/N before chapter 1 which I also posted today so you should just be able to press 'next'
Trigger warning: Disordered eating.
Hi. My name is Santana Lopez. I live by two rules, and two rules only.
- Don't get fat.
- Don't let anyone know.
I guess the first rule is really; don't get fatter. Or maybe it's get thinner, because I know I'm not fat-fat. I'm not as big as Mercedes or Zizes. But if I pinch right here... Feel that? That's fat. That's greasy, flabby, disgusting FAT! It has to go. I can't stop until it's gone. Because... if I feel right here. I love to touch myself right here. It's hard. Two mounds of just solid bone - my hipbones. They're my favorite part of this gross body. I want my whole body to feel like this. And that's why I can't stop. Not yet.
The second rule is the most important. Temporarily this rule could, if necessary, cancel out rule number 1. It's crucial that no one finds out. Ever! It's not safe. People care too much. If someone found out maybe they'd try to stop me, and I need to not stop. Not yet. Quinn knows, but that's different. Quinn helps. Quinn needs no one else to know just as much as I do. So we stick together and help each other out. Whatever it takes to keep it secret – lies, schemes, tricks – we know them all and we work them like pros. Keeping strangers oblivious is easier than stealing candy from children. Ultimately, it all comes down to not letting anyone close enough to see who you really are. No one knows the real me. Do you know what that is? That's power.
My stomach just growled. I love that sound. I love this feeling. Hunger. There's no other way to feel this clean. A million showers can't wash away the fat. Only hunger can. When my stomach growls like that; when it curls with emptiness - that's accomplishment. It feels good. It's better than sleep, better than love, better than… sex.
I remember sex. I never really liked it that much, so it's not that big of a sacrifice - at least not compared to what I would be risking. Other people touching me? Seeing me, you know, without clothes? I'm so afraid of what they would say behind my back. Boys talk, I learned that the hard way. I never again wanna hear about what I did, what I sounded like... What I looked like. Not until I'm perfect. When I'm perfect they can talk all they want, but I'm not there yet. Not yet.