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TRIGGER WARNING : this chapter is very heavy and quite upsetting as it delves into Allies darkest place - if you have or have previously had an eating disorder (and you think this may trigger you) i will put up a warning before the scene starts and you can choose if you want to read it xx

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Chapter 16 : Camouflage

Monday 5th December 2020

camouflage
/ˈkaməflɑːʒ/

verb
verb: camouflage; 3rd person present: camouflages; past tense: camouflaged; past participle: camouflaged; gerund or present participle: camouflaging
hide or disguise the presence of (a person, animal, or object) by means of camouflage.
"the caravan was camouflaged with netting and branches from trees"
conceal the existence of (something undesirable).
"grievances should be discussed, not camouflaged"

I'm sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair with my legs tightly crossed. My left foot is swinging, hitting the cool metal pole of the table leg every few seconds. My pencil is being tapped at a high speed but I slam it down when I get the answer to the question. I pull my blazer tighter around my body, feeling my bulky stationary press hard against my boobs.

Brhhh. I'm freezing.

I swear this school is completely useless. The air conditioning seems to conveniently break at the start of every summer, and yet wait until the winter term to fix it, but not the heating. Cause apparently mid November is hot enough to live without radiators.

Ugh.

Stupid caretaker.

"Can you please stop that?" I jump in shock, banging my knee hard on the underside of the table when I hear Thomas's voice sound beside me. He looks at my leg and slowly drags his eyes up my body. Perv.

"Ugh, just because you're being a dick, doesn't mean yours will actually get bigger." I use my fingers to show 1 centimetre; he frowns and whispers something about him having a mega penis.

Puh-lease it's like around 2 inches long.

Instead of retaliating, I don't answer but instead hit the pole ever so slightly; you can just hear it if you're just around my desk and Thomas fits into that category.

"I told you to stop."

"I'm not doing anything?" I say in my best 'duh' voice. He rolls his eyes and swerves back around in his chair. Out of the corner of my eye, i can see him sulking, muttering the words 'stupid slag' under his breath.

"Excuse me" I sass. How dare he.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not doing anything-" During his pathetic attempt to imitate my voice, I walk off, flipping my middle finger at him whilst I leave.

I can't be asked to deal with him today.

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"I'll be back in like a few minutes" I tell my friends as I leave the cafeteria to go to the toilet.

Ever since they confronted me about my apparent 'eating problem' I've had to eat more in front of them. It's stupid really, I just eat plain salad which does absolutely nothing for me. Luckily today though, I made up the excuse that I was revising for a 'Philosophy and Ethics' exam so I didn't have to munch on manky leaves once again.

But I think I've found a solution anyway.

I pop open 2 foil packets like I do every lunch time, and take the weight loss medication. I upped the dose dramatically due to me eating all this extra food - I want it to work as much as possible, and by having more pills it cancels out the food.

I think?

Right? Or is that not how it works...

Oh well anyways. It's not like having more is going to kill me?

Like I'm already at 58kg! Insane progress!

Since it's Christmas time, we get calendars and I made sure my parents bought it from the Body Shop. Usually I'd get a foodie calendar but with my new diet, I've cut out all crappy foods.

"Whatcha doin'"

"AHHH!" I jump in fright and crush my pill box in my hand. They scatter the floor and break into small pieces. Great. Well that's like £20 down the drain. But...it's not like I actually paid for them anyway.

Thomas's shit eating grin is observing me as I scramble all over the floor to reach the few remaining pills, "Qsymia. Woah, didn't know you were a druggie, Alison Carter". He makes sure to over pronounce my name.

"I'm not. I just take them every so often" I reply, putting the pills in the box and tucking them into my top blazer pocket.

"Mhm. Sure you do" he quirks an eyebrow at me, sneering at what he's watching. Oh boy, you have no idea how much i want to punch his little face in. The satisfaction would just be 'mwah' chefs kiss. But standing almost a foot under him, so that would probably never happen.

"Look Thomas, haven't you bothered me enough today?!" I ask in an irritated tone. He shrugs and circles around my crouching body. Oh my god, it's like he's pretending to be a shark circling around their little fishy food. Pathetic. But I'm not gonna lie, as he gets closer to me every step of the way, my body stiffens slightly more than before, "Just get the hell out of the girls loo's you pervert!"

"Hmmm. No. Sorry flabs" Slowly, I look up.

"What did you just call me..." My eyes start to feel glassy. The nerve of this boy is just astounding.

"Flabs. You know, like blubber or chubbs. I mean, take your pick Allie. You always liked my nicknames...darling." Thomas's face is completely neutral, but I can see that inside he's hysteric. The corners of his mouth are turning up in a malicious way as he meticulously observes me.

A drop of my salty tears drips down my face, "excuse me...". I try to walk past him and get to the door but he's blocking my way with his wide shoulders. With precision, he takes my wrist and moves my body further from the door, keeping me next to him at all times so I can't leave.

"Come on Allie! We both know it's true." His patronising tone is getting under my skin. And worst of all...he knows it.

"Get out." My voice is calm and measured but inside I'm boiling.

Thomas doesn't move an inch, "Didn't you hear me Thomas," I spit his name with over pronunciation, "i told you to get. OUT."

His head tilts to the side like a dog when it hears a squeaky toy.

"No."

No?

NO.

Who does this bastard think he is! "GET OUT!"

I storm towards him and slap him over the cheek. My hand leaves a bright red imprint. He instinctively grabs that side of his face and squirms. I can see the anger burning behind his eyes. He grabs a hold of my wrist and twists it behind my back, making it sore under his tight grip.

"Sorry fattie, didn't know you had such a temper. Just like you little boyfriend. He gets so wound up about his dead brother, even though he killed him."

Oh no he didn't...

"Get out Thomas or I swear I will KILL YOU" My voice is gravelly and prominent. He leans in to me so his mouth is next to my ear. His sweaty scent makes me feel trapped by his body as he has me against the wall. A tear falls down my cheek but he wipes it away in a fake pitiful way.

"You couldn't hurt me if you tried. You're just the fat, ugly girl who no boy would ever like because she could never be as attractive as the other girls. And don't think I don't know what goes through your mind. You want to be like them. Blend in. Be camouflaged. A replica of beauty. But guess what Alison. No matter how much makeup, gym memberships or plastic surgery you have. You will always be ugly."

Confidently, I take a step towards him and rise up on my tip toes.

We're now eye to eye.

"Fuck you." My spit sprays his face.

I shove him hard.

Clumsily, he tumbles back as falls into one of the cubicles. Taking another hit, I kick him between the legs making him curl up and squeal like a piglet. Then for one last measure, I jump on his ankle to make it roll while Thomas swears and shouts in agony.

"GET OUT NOW!"

Thomas runs out of the girls bathroom at full speed. Tears are now streaming down my face at an unstoppable speed. They drip down my chin and fall onto my shirt. I scream out loud until my lungs are burning.

(TRIGGER WARNING)

Hatred fills me, so I start to take it out on the room. Kicking down the doors. Shredding loo roll. Breaking the windows. Finally, I turn to look in the mirror and I feel disgusted at what I see. Turning on all the taps, I splash my face with water and scrub hard, as if I want to erase what I'm looking at. I grip onto the counter and cry loudly.

My makeup is all over the place.

My hair's a total mess.

My clothes are crumpled and out of place.

Sometimes I feel as if I'm useless in this world. Like I have no meaning and that no one would really care if I were gone. That life would just go on. That thought scares me.

No. It terrifies me.

So much that it's driving me to the brink of insanity.

I've heard of people feeling as if there's no point in life. And I'm starting to agree.

So what if I die, the rest of the world wouldn't notice. Sure, some people would remember me and our memories together. But that's all they'd be. Memories. I'd be a memory. An insignificant dot in people's lives. And after a while, people will forget those memories.

They'd forget me.

When I look at myself, I hate what I see. My eyes are drawn to my flaws like all I can do is focus on all my insecurities .

The first thing is my nose. It's not small or fairy-like and goes bright red at the slightest touch. It's round rather than pointy and looks like a mushroom. I hate in photos that when I look at my face all I can focus on is my nose. And yeah, it may sound stupid that i'm complaining; its straight and very average size which i guess doesn't seem that bad but when you've been bullied by your older brother since the age of 4 it starts to make you question it.

My fat. Now my friends say they envy my body, but I don't understand why. Everytime I look down at my body in the mirror, I observe it. My short wide legs with stretch marks all around them. My stomach which whenever I look at it doesn't seem flat enough.

I hate it. And I'm scared I always will. That no matter how hard I try I will never be happy.

I hate the way my thighs touch, they're big and wobbly with cellulite all over them. One time I got asked by a man if I self harm - i don't, it was just the stretch marks which cover my legs. Why aren't they skinnier? Why don't I have a thigh gap? When I look in the mirror, I look nothing how I want to.

Nothing like what society expects me to.

And my shape, some say it's hourglass but I just see fat. You can call them curves but I won't believe you.

My friends say that I'm what guys want.

What they desire.

Crave.

That my body type is what's considered 'hot' to them.

But I don't feel it. I don't care about what they think. Sure, it gives me a momentary lapse of judgment where it tricks me into thinking I'm actually attractive. It's like ecstasy to my ears. A thrilling high, which quickly comes crashing down. Because unless I'm being showered with compliments every second I'm going to end up hating myself again in the end.

The worst part is, is that I feel like I can't say anything - in society I wouldn't be considered overweight, just 'curvy'. This means that whenever I say something I feel so judged because all people say is "you're not overweight, why are you fishing for compliments" or "stop overreacting, you're not even that big."

I bottle everything up because I don't want to seem like a horrible person for 'exaggerating my problems' even though it's eating me up inside. But no matter how much I try to change myself, the difference is so minimal that I see no point in trying.

Due to growing up around impossible beauty standards I've ended up getting it into my head about what is considered beautiful, and my body...it's nothing like the expectations society set for us.

Unreachable expectations.

Every time I go on the internet or whatever social network, I will see girls.

Admire them.

Envy them.

Hatred builds up inside of me for not only them, but me. A part of me in the back of my mind knows that everybody is perfect, but the rest of me can't accept that. I've always set myself high expectations. I guess this is just another one.

Sometimes I won't eat for the entire day and then at dinner I don't even finish a small portion. Other days I'm so upset that I gorge on trashy food. 'Eating my feelings' people would say. But after...after I just feel guilty. So so guilty. That's my lowest low. Because that's when I feel the need to starve myself. And it's either one or the other. There is no in between.

I fear that without the constant compliments that I'm now going to spiral down into darkness. Alone.

And then who knows what I'd do if I was alone.

Probably just something I've done a thousand times before.

In the heat of the moment I punch the mirrors, letting them shatter at my mercy. Blood seeps out of my knuckles but I don't even notice. I just punch continuously over and over again until all the tiny shards of glass fall from the mirrors, puncturing my skin on every movement.

The back of my hand is raw and bleeding.

But when I look up...

I see myself like I do from within.

The broken glass makes my face disoriented and peculiar. It widens my jaw, making my face look incredibly chubby. The glass shards make me look even more ugly than before.

Disgusting.

"You will never be like them"

"You will never be perfect"

"You will always be ugly"

I mutter these words to myself as I slide down the bloody counter as my knees buckle under my weight, and I pool my body onto the floor. Blood drips from multiple points on my body, making the white floor blossom with the rosy red. Water from the taps flood the bathroom, making my blood spread all over the bathroom tiles.

"You will never be like them"

"You will never be perfect"

"You will always be ugly"

Ripping open my bag, I find a new packet of the weightloss drugs and peel them all out of the packet. Still repeating the words, I shove more down my throat until there are no more left, the bitter taste burning my tongue.

"You will never be like them"

"You will never be perfect"

"You will always be ugly"

I start to feel dizzy, like I'm going to collapse because my mind is whirring at a million miles per hour. I clutch onto my head, screaming at the voices - not caring at the feeling of glass shards pricking into every inch of my skin. Blood is trailing down my arms and face, the taste of liquid metal dripping into my mouth.

"You will never be like them"

"You will never be perfect"

"You will always be ugly"

I try to stand up but my body drops to the floor, hitting my head hard against the counter. I can't breathe, I can't think, and my sight starts to go double. The sound of banging on the doors and shouting voices behind them, begin to sound miles away. Taking out my phone with my last bit of energy, I press Levi's contact and drop my phone on the bloody floor. I whisper his name with desperation. When I try to pick up the phone, it shakes and falls from the unsteadiness of my grip, cutting the call short.

"You will never be like them"

"You will never be perfect"

"You will always be ugly"

My eyes droop and my vision starts to fade, but I can still see my face when I looked in the mirror in the imprint of my crowded mind. I looked scared, not only of Thomas but of myself. Of what I've become. Something I swore that I would never ever become. I'm scared of myself and I'm scared of what I will do. I don't know my limits or what's good for me anymore. I'm my own worst fear.

"You will never be like them"

"You will never be perfect"

"You will always be ugly"

When I manage to open my eyes, I make out a figure coming towards me. Levi. I can't focus on what's happening and my eyes close once again, still whispering the sentences over and over. Screams of my name are in the distance but all I can think about is Thomas's scarring words - "you will always be ugly".

Always.

But it's true.

And I will forever hate myself for it.

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please remember to VOTE, FOLLOW, COMMENT, TAG and SHARE so i can get more publicity