In Pieces

Alyssa is unraveling very quickly.

I've added some flashbacks to the story at various parts. The goal was to make this book as intense as possible.

So here goes nothing. It might be a mistake; I may snip these little flashbacks.

Not sure yet.

I'm placing the most dramatic ones in this post. All feedback is appreciated.

Love, Lisa



In spite of myself, I looked back.

Mom was crying in the passenger seat. Dad had his arm around her shoulder. He was trying to hold it together; Dad had always been the rational one. His emotions didn’t get in the way of his life.

But he was even upset this time.

I wanted to run back to the car, tell my parents I am sorry. Tell them I would change. We all knew that was a lie, though. There was no way I would go back to the body I used to have. I would’ve rather died. Literally. I’d actually been working fairly hard to achieve that.

I exhaled sharply and stepped through the airport’s entrance. My flight to Florida left in an hour, so I needed to rush. There was no time for regrets, for meaningless apologies. Mom knews I loved her; that wasn’t the issue. It was myself I couldn’t stand.

She begged me to get treatment. There was a good place in Schaumburg, just a few miles from our house. But that would’ve meant staying in Illinois. That place was crawling with memories. It was a cesspool of could-have-beens.

The world used to be such a bright place. I was not willing to live in the shadow of that brightness; that would be a torture beyond what I could bear.

Besides, I didn’t want treatment. I didn’t want to be healthy because this half-crazed, extreme method I’d discovered was much more intriguing. It was my sole source of relief these days.

I lost Kevin. I chased away my family and most of my friends. I had no plan for the future and only a painfully wonderful past to reflect on. A reminder of the perfection that had slipped through my bony fingers.

Everything that mattered had been stripped away.

But I had control. I floated above this heavy anchor that weighed others down. I was immune to temptation and desire. I could go days without eating, then live off crumbs. I was a champion of my own little game. I was a queen.

A tiny, narrow, hollowed-out queen.

***

If only it would come faster, I thought. I’d be abroad in a couple months. I’d be away from this nightmare of a life.

I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Mom was running errands, Dad was working from his home office, Johnny was hanging out with friends. Because, unlike me, he still had some. He hadn’t ignored their phone calls until they eventually stopped calling.

I closed my eyes. What I wanted to do was reach across the dresser and grab the novel I started reading. Or maybe even the Bible, although it had been hard to comb through that book lately.

I didn’t have the energy. Stretching my arm across the nightstand would’ve felt like running a marathon. The books would have to sit idle. Just like me.

My breathing was shallow, my muscles were tired even though they hadn’t moved today. It was tiring to breathe, even. My eyes flew open and I stared at the white ceiling.

Maybe the breaths would just stop. That would be nice; I could finally rest. I could drift off into nothingness. After all this time, the gaping hole that Kevin left would dissolve.

I would be free.

I chewed the inside of my lip, trying to remember the last time I ate anything. I had a tea yesterday, maybe at ten in the morning. But I’d only finished half the cup. It tasted too sweet; Mom might’ve slipped some sugar in there. That was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

I blinked. There was no water left in my eyes, so I couldn’t cry. Couldn’t sweat, either. No periods anymore. No emotions left. My body was shutting down.

I couldn’t work my face into smile. But there was a grin inside my head. My body was transforming into something stunning. I was so little now that I had to buy children’s clothes. Girls’ size 10 usually fit me. I was five feet and ten inches, yet wearing the same items that an eight-year-old typically wore. It was amazing.

Maybe I could be a child again, travel back to the time when the world made sense. It was my only chance at happiness. Adulthood had brought loss. And misery, too. So much misery. The kind that chipped away at me until I shattered.

I was in pieces. A teacup that someone had tossed to the ground. The fragments were really sharp; they could slice through flesh. Easily.