her. She is staring at me now, makes a slight nod in my direction; it’s my turn.
“Yeah, go on,” I say, sucking hard on my cigarette and hating the taste. “In the dirt where you belong.” But as I say it I’m thinking – nobody would do that, would they? No one would get on their knees? Not if you had any dignity anyway.
Which just proves that Jess Pearson has none, not one tiny bit, because she willingly gets down on the floor and begs for our forgiveness. She looks at the ground the entire time. It just proves to me she is a sad little freak.
So because of that we leave her where she belongs.
And I don’t feel guilty.
I don’t.
Kez Walker: Just got to keep smiling. Lots to look forward to ;o)
2 hours ago.
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Marnie: Feelin better then?
Kez: Yeah. Guess so
Lyn: Ive ways of makin u smile…
Marnie: Lucky you
Kez: Things could be worse
Marnie: Yeah you could be Jessica Pearson!
Kez: OMG! Kill me now.
Marnie: I’m loading up the gun…
Kez: Plz do! I swear that would be the worst thing eva.
Marnie: I’d rather not.
Lyn: Nah … Jess is all right.
Marnie: Ah, give over Lyn she is rough.
Lyn: You girls are harsh.
Marnie: Trust me. We’re right.
Another day …
I am thinking again about the messages I read last night. I can’t help it. I almost feel detached, not quite part of all of this. I don’t know, maybe I’m just becoming used to it. After all, people like me aren’t designed to be loved and respected by others. Do I blame Kez for not wanting to be me? No, not at all.
I don’t want to be me.
I go into the bathroom to have a quick bath. I wish we had a shower, that way I wouldn’t have to look at my body so much. I run it so it’s only half full and pour in some of Hollie’s bubbles, as they’re great at hiding the flab. I pull off my nightshirt, still looking straight ahead – I try not to look down unless I have to. And then slowly, carefully, I ease myself into the warm water.
I really don’t know why I’m so fat. I don’t eat that much, I really don’t. Mum says it’s just because I eat the wrong things and maybe she’s right. I do try not to. I really do. But sometimes I wonder if it’s even worth debating; I’m obviously just weak, unable to resist the bite of chocolate or the temptation of crisps. If I was a stronger, better person I could say no. Mum buys treats for me and Hollie and then gets mad at me for eating them all. But I can’t help it. It makes me feel better.
If I was a better person I would be thinner. And then I would be popular.
The bubbles are floating about on the hill of my belly, sliding down the shiny slope. I arch up my back, exaggerating the size. It’s so large and white – I almost feel lost in it. Silvery marks, like tiny slug trails scar my hips. I run my fingernail across them, tracing the lines, the signs that my body is struggling. If I carry on eating, would these scars split open? Would my fat spill out like a slug’s innards?
I wonder if it’s actually possible to be trapped inside this flesh. Could delicate white bones be hiding under all this matter?
Help me! This blubber is keeping me prisoner. I’m trying to escape…
I pick up the pink razor that lies on the side of the bath. Carefully I skim it over the pale flesh of my belly. I’m sweaty and my head is pounding. I press harder and see a tiny bubble of red emerge under the blade.
I lift the razor, staring at it for a second. So sharp, so powerful. I can imagine drawing it across my skin, letting all the bad stuff out. Turning the water a deep, angry crimson.
I’m worthless. I deserve this…
I press it against myself again, holding my breath. Then I let go. The razor floats harmlessly among the bubbles, bouncing gently against my leg.
I can’t do this. I won’t hurt myself. I won’t…
The tears come before I can stop them. I cry silently, my hand pressed up hard against my mouth. I don’t want Hollie to hear me. I don’t