#shed your own skin and you're not you anymore--you're who you're dressed as. people will get your attention by calling you their name bc

[grapejuicestyless]

Love Me Until My Breathing Stops?

Harry Styles x Fem!reader

Angst to Fluff

DISCLAIMER!: There are some very serious topics in this. Depression, mentions of fucked up relationships. This is not romanticizing this at all.

Teaser: "Now they'd pass with whispers about how she'd only ever be a shell of who she once was. Destroyed by the weight of the love that she'd given so recklessly and the evil she'd let sleep next to her in her bed at night."

To be honest, I had no idea where it went so irreparably wrong. You never notice you're slipping until your feet are out from under you and your head hits the floor. Maybe that's how I never saw it coming.

My bed was my new home, my tears were my midnight snack and my eyes were probably permanently shut from the puffy skin that was blotchy and irritated beyond belief. My pillow was my sanctuary and the darkness was my friend. I miss my old friend sunshine. I miss the backyard barbeques and the reunions in the park. I miss the kids running from the bees and the smell of the wet grass in the mornings.

It had been a month, two weeks, three days, twenty one hours and thirteen minutes since I'd fallen, unable to pick up the shattered pieces that became my identity. The shadow of the girl who used to find peace in the smiles from people passing by. The girl who threw welcome home parties and tended to her garden every afternoon. Now they'd pass with whispers about how she'd only ever be a shell of who she once was. Destroyed by the weight of the love that she'd given so recklessly and the evil she'd let sleep next to her in her bed at night.

I'd been so convinced that he was the one. Grew up these past few months believing I was all that he saw. Breathing him was slowly killing me. I thought so highly of the man I shared my in's and out's with. I'd wake up early just to see the even rise of his chest, dreaming of his curly hair and our future together. Now in my own suffering, I dreamt that he drowned.

But it wasn't his fault, no he'd asked if I would be okay. I promised I'd be okay. There was no okay, how could he believe me? How can someone simply be okay after wrecking the only thing I'd been sure of in my entire life? No, there wasn't okay. There was simply bad and worse.

Today, was bad.

On days like this, I would talk myself up to a shower. Rid myself of the stench of rock bottom. Ridding myself of the killer that drove him away. How could he be so forgiving to me not being enough? How could he brush off my wasted potential and blame it on himself. Guilt till consumed me whole, even if he'd underlined it in red that it was him, not me. His unfaithfulness that had torn a sweet love story to ashes. Tell me, how could the attentive wife to be miss the smirk hiding beneath his winning smile, his lessons really just weapons targeted at my deepest hurts. Every comforting explanation was twisted way back to what I feared most.

Soon, I'd find myself in the kitchen, raiding the empty cabinets and the ransacked fridge. There was only crumbs and lemon juice in the entire house by now. The appetite I'd worked up gone at just the flashbacks of the slow dances in the crack of the refrigerator light. His hand over mine and his empty promises soothing in my ear. Did he want me or did he want me not? I heard one thing, now I'm hearing another.

I felt rage boiling, the slam of the door rattling the plates in the sink and the pan on the stove. Ripping my hair from my head was the only reliever of the pain, tearing apart my body hoping that eventually it could be put back together into a beautiful bloody mess. Wearing my hurt on my sleeve and praying to god that, that someone could love me just as much for that.

I was thinner now, shedding the pounds like I had anymore to spare. The only clothes that still fit was a white ruffled dress that fell just below my knees. The straps hanging loosely and my feet slipped into black Mary Janes and red socks. I wonder how ghostly I looked stepping into the sun. Skin greyed from the lack of light.

I counted my breathing, noted the cracks on the pavement and counted the daffodils on the walk into town. All to cease the tears pushing behind my eyes.

It was nice out, the air was crisp and warming with the middle of spring having sprung. Vines were growing and the world was getting loud again. It was peaceful, I wanted a piece of that inner silence for myself. Maybe it would bring me a sort of closure, pushing me towards a more okay future.

I listened to the bell rattle with the push of the door, hands hanging loose at my sides. I waved towards the girl working the counter in the flower store. She smiled, recognizing the unrecognizable shadow that waltzed into the humid room. I pasted on the fake togetherness I'd mastered from unexpected visits from family and friends. Trying to imitate the girl who had lost her way long ago.

"Do you have any tulips?" My eyes remained glued to the flower beds as I searched the store for any bright pink clusters.

"A few in the back row, though you might need to hurry, they're quite popular today." I nodded, scurrying to the back in hopes to finally get what I wanted.

There, I saw the empty basket, the last bouquet of bright pink tulips being held up to a tall man. He was maybe six feet tall, but his posture made him seem a little shorter. His hair was chocolatey brown with free falling curls and waves pushed behind his tortoise shell sunglasses. He wore a teal cardigan over a white graphic tee that read something in blue I couldn't quite make out from the angle. His legs fit into lose jeans with rips at the knees and blue and white checkered vans. His laces were ripped slightly, probably from stepping on them, and he smelled like sweet vanilla.

He looked like happiness, a ray of modern day sunshine and fair love, his nose still buried between two flowers, eyes fluttered shut.

Some white carnations lined with a hot pink sat near the tulips, they looked just as beautiful as the fresh flowers that I'd missed by a second too late.

I let myself sigh after taking in the clean smell from the center of them, the crinkling of the paper distracting me from the hurt I felt inside.

"You planning a wedding?" His English accent wasn't horribly noticeable, but still able to be picked up on. I cracked a smile, trying to be polite. Trying to be the girl I missed.

"Something like that, yeah." He laughed, we made eye contact.

I could see his dark green eyes now, sparkling with interest. I can only imagine the lack thereof that I returned to him.

"I'm Harry." He held out his hand, smiling so much so there were crinkles by his eyes.

"I'm y/n." I met his palms. They were soft yet rough around the edges. His fingers had been picked at and he had guitar string scars across his hands.

There was a silence. It was comfortable, relaxed but still, I itched to back away.

"It was nice to meet you." I stepped back, walking away faster than I came to pay for the carnations clenched between my shaking hands.

"Hey wait!" His footsteps were heavy, hammering into the asphalt. I turned, but continued to move backwards, a faint smile played on his lips. Chasing after the beautiful fool who secretly adored the interest the random flower shop boy took in her.

"Missed me already?" I turned back to walk forwards once I felt his arm bump mine.

"Can't help it, you're just so missable!" He joked, flowers facing down at the ground, hitting each other as we walked close together. We left a petal trail as we walked.

"You say that to every girl you meet?"

"Only the runaway brides dressed up like Dorothy on her way to Oz." I covered my smile in my hand, brushing the blush off.

"I'm flattered." We shared a look, walking in silence as we looked at each others eyes.

"So tell me about yourself, Dorothy."

"Dorothy?" He pointed to my shoes, I scoffed.

"Okay..." I thought on it, counting the cracks again.

I knew I was barely together. Barely able to keep up with the work that seemed to just pile itself onto my back. I knew that my finger still stung from when I ripped off the engagement ring and told him to go to hell. I knew I was a fucked in the head, a childish girl who only wanted to be loved like she loved others. I knew at one point I would've said all these things to Harry, a man I'd met only a few minutes ago. Trusted him easily and let him in without an inch of doubt. But I also knew that wasn't fully me anymore.

"I haven't met the new me yet." I smiled at him, chewing at my cheek at the curious eyebrow lift and the breathy laugh.

'What about you, Harry? Who are you?" I looked to my feet.

"I'll let you decide." He looked to my face, my eyes finding it almost impossible to meet his warm gaze.

"Someone who reads too many love stories."

"Says the one dressed as Wendy from Peter Pan." I laughed, meeting his stare finally.

"Am I Wendy or Dorothy?"

"Why not both?" He was unbelievably easy to talk to, even in my mess and hurt, it soothed the panging in my chest with every breath he took.

"Let me walk you home, y/n?" I smiled.

"Okay." We fell into a silence again, out of teasing and jokes to share for the five minute walk remaining. I went back to counting the daffodils and he went back to sniffing his flowers. I went back to silently pulling myself together, picking up any shards of myself that had fallen and focused on my breathing.

"This is mine." I looked towards the dark home, the garden still neat despite the overgrown plants and the few dead plants. I looked back at Harry, then to his feet where his tulip petals continued to fall. They looked bare, hurt and dying now. I met his eyes again.

"Take good care of those tulips for me?" He froze, confused about the sudden request after my silence towards him and his polite offer.

"Yeah, of course." I nodded, turning myself slowly towards my front steps. I took in the pale blue of my paint, the new white shutters beautiful and perfectly matched with the white wrap around porch that hugged the west corner of the home snuggly and the short, white picket fence. You would've never expected such a fuck up to live in such a nice looking home.

"Bye, Harry." Waving, I made my way up the driveway, passing the fence and the the garden. All while he stood there, done with the chase, done with my mood swings. My politeness and my silence. My trust and my question. He stayed outside of my lawn, feet stuck to the sidewalk like gum.

Seven months, one week, six hours and eighteen minutes since I'd fallen, unable to pick up the shattered pieces that became my identity. Seven months, one week, six hours and eighteen minutes since the man who hung the moon for me in my eyes confessed his infidelities and left me to throw a pity party for myself. Almost six months since the next best thing had entered my life. My best friend, Harry.

Unlike my ex-fiancé, Harry came back. He came back and picked up the shards that I'd let crack and bleed under my feet and glued me back together. He'd come by once a week at first, checking up after noticing the vacant look in my eyes when we first parted ways. How I'd slipped into the darkest house he'd ever seen. Cold, tired, worked to the bone. Once turned into twice. Twice turned into four and four turned into almost everyday. His knock at my door my favorite sound. Yet, what he knew of me, wasn't fully me.

Even with Harry and his flowers decorating my home. Even with his laugh and his trusting demeanor, part of that girl I was was forever lost. That engagement ring hadn't only taken skin, it had taken the foolish woman who slept next to a liar and swallowed her pride. It had taken my ability to let people in so easily. And I wish he hadn't taken that from me, because as stupidly blind she was, she was some of the best parts of me.

"The Notebook or Ten Things I Hate About You?" Harry hoped over the back of my couch, his arm falling limp around my shoulders, each hand holding a movie for me to chose.

"Is that even a question?" I snatched the disc with Heath Ledger on the cover and waved it around Harry's face. He smiled, ruffling up my hair before getting up to pop the disc in.

"I need to stop asking you these things, Dorothy. I was hoping for the notebook." I stuck my tongue out, my heart flooding with a familiar warmth only Harry could pull from me.

I bit my cheek until it bled, my shoulder squished between his chest and the bend of his elbow. Silently, I mouthed the lines to the movie, my lips brushing against the soft cotton of Harry's white t-shirt.

"That tickles, my love." He laughed, craning his head down while mine stretched up. Crinkles folded by my eyes, smile lines permanently tattooed on my skin from just the past few months. What was a curse for others, was a permanent reminder of the adoration I had gained for Harry and his ability to fix what was irreparably shattered.

"What?" His whole body shook with a silent giggle, eyes reflecting the movie and an emotion I couldn't pin. I remained silent, eyes flicking down to his lips, his eyes following mine. I felt his touch tighten around my back and his body heat up.

Closer and closer, longer and longer. I panicked the closer I got to wrecking this beautiful relationship we'd built over a silly crush I'd obtained.

Sure, he was nice. He was handsome and possibly the best thing that had ever walked into my life, but stacking every single one of those reasons and more couldn't make me risk everything. I couldn't deal with someone else I loved walking out of my life.

I inched away, scared. I watched his face freeze, eyes relaxed and breath hot on my lips.

"Harry." I whimpered.

"Y/n."

"What if we fuck this up? What if after tonight you change your mind? I can't do that again Harry. I can't pick myself up again." I quietly rambled, tense, scared of the idea that I would face the hatred for my own reflection for weeks and weeks again.

"Y/n." He repeated, softer.

My mouth stopped, eyes flicking to observe his expression over and over. Trying to fight back the tears that built and built.

"I swear to you, I'm not going anywhere. If you trust me, let me in just this once, I wont leave until you're kicking me out." He searched my face now, an internal fight going on in my head. He made it so hard to think being so close him.

"Love me until my breathing stops?" I asked, tears springing from under my eyes and gathering at my waterline now. Scared, just as I was all those months ago. no longer a vacant stare, but one of fear and uncertainty.

"I'll love you until my breathing stops." He wiped under my eyes, fingers quick to land on my cheeks. He waited, patiently for any sign that it would be okay to continue.

I nodded, swallowing.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He smiled, shoulders slumping like a weight had been lifted and he was at ease.

"Okay." I returned the feeling, lips brushing his. They were soft and plump. They tasted of buttery popcorn and chocolate. His nose bumped into mine, skin brushing skin and limbs tangling the longer we tried to hold onto the moment.

When we pulled away, it was breathless, and suddenly I realized the man who'd hurt me seven months, one week, seven hours and three minutes ago hadn't stolen the best parts of me, he only scared her into hiding.

[ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey]

A Secure guy

Written for the Hinny Ficfest 2021. 

Thank you @clarensjoy for organizing this! Really! We're so lucky to have you!!

@thedistantdusk , you're a sweetheart and I love you. Thank you again for everything. That was the sweetest surprise.

Prompts:

#66: “That was the last time. I’m serious this time.”

#85: “She deserves flowers and gifts and a secure guy who isn’t almost murdered by lunatics left and right and I can’t give her that.”

Also available on Ao3.

TW: Rated M just in case. And really angsty.

She deserved flowers and gifts and a secure guy who wasn’t almost murdered by lunatics left and right and he couldn’t give her that.

Harry knew it was a matter of time, he wasn’t that stupid or delusional. 

He just hoped it’d never come and the emotions jostling in his heart hurt like hell, so much more he’d thought it would.

The bed bounced when she retrieved her jumper from the floor of his room and got dressed. 

“That was the last time. I’m serious this time,” Ginny murmured in the night, hooking her bra behind her back, her voice colder than ever before. 

Harry contented himself to nod, unable to come up with a reply anyway. The ball in his throat suffocated him, and yet, to his despair, he wasn’t dying. 

She meant it this time, it was evident. He had to resign himself that it was over, the end of a story, of a story he had himself destroyed. Ginny had turned the page and it wasn’t her fault if he was still stuck in the past.

It was over. Never again would the tips of his fingers graze her hot skin, his palms brush her thighs, his lips skim her face or his nails scratch at her back. 

It would be someone else’s task now, he reckoned. 

She hadn’t looked at him at all this time, keeping her eyes shut, her lips away from his, like it was now forbidden to cross that line. He’d noticed the difference right away, leaving him tight-lipped. His lips had searched hers but she’d turned her head, her long hair colliding with his face. His heart racing, his movements unsteady, he’d tried again, but she’d pulled back completely, increasing the speed of her hips connecting with his, her hands clutching his biceps.

Harry understood at this instant that something had changed in their intimate relationship, that she wasn’t interested to share that part of her with him anymore. He contented himself to observe her while he was trying to pleasure her, her silhouette blurred from his lack of glasses. He cherished every pant and sigh coming from her lips, touching, with a heavy heart, these sections of her body only he knew of.

For now. 

It had killed him to not feel her trembling on him from the intensity of their love-making. Ginny had  jumped from him the second she finished like he’d burned her. Clenching his jaw,  he realized another man would have that chance now, and that he should have relished in it more the last time they had been together. He hadn’t expected it, as stupid as it sounded, and now he was let trying to grasp at every single souvenirs of it he could recover in his memory. 

Thus far, she’d stayed close to him in bed after, her head on his chest, her sweet smelling hair tickling his chin, just like before he decided to fuck it up.

But he prefered to crush his dream life then to live with the possibility of endangering her.

She got off of the bed, the sheet moving from his bare chest at the same time. He couldn’t look at her getting dressed or leaving his room for the last time, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to bear it, that it would be the last image of them sharing something intimate together. 

It was his decision and he couldn’t expect her to act like he hadn’t broken up with her. 

Again. 

His eyes stung, and yet, he did nothing to stop it, too devastated to sooth the pain. He stared at the ceiling of his room, arms crossed over his heart, attempting to protect the last bit of dignity he could gather. 

The door closed behind her, the click reasonating in his ears, and he was left alone to face his intolerable heartache like a big boy. But it hurt more than knowing you were the only one to save the world, more than wishing your mum would rock you at night after a nightmare, realizing your aunt would probably be willing to do that for anyone else but you. Because you were different, you were dangerous.

Because Ginny had been the only one he’d ever trusted enough to be completely vulnerable in her presence, with whom he’d accepted to share the most private parts of him. Their relationship had been a turning point in his life, raw, essential to his survival. Special enough that she could scream to the world the feel of her lips on his was the principal reason they were rid of Voldemort. 

The first threatening sob escaped his lips, the sound breaking the silence of the room, and then another, and another, and he found himself unable to control his shaken body.

Rolling on his side, he brought up his knees to his chest, struggling to breathe, the flow of his tears flooding his pillow. 

He deserved the pain. He deserved it. Because he was different, too dangerous, and Ginny couldn’t be with him. 

He grasped his comforter, bringing it to his nose in hope it was filled with her flowery scent and he could get the impression she was here, close to him. Just one last time. Just once.

Crying convulsively, shedding tear after tear, Harry didn’t even hear when the door creaked again. 

“Sorry I forgot my- Harry?!”

He tried, really tried, to stop the last sob from crossing his lips, in vain. Sealing his lips together, Harry hoped Ginny wouldn’t judge him or take pity on him, or worse, fetch Ron. 

He stayed still, hearing his heart pumping in his ears and feeling dizzy from the sadness and anger at himself consuming his insides. 

The mattress sank under Ginny’s weight and Harry felt her feet against his calves. One of her hands settled on his shoulder, the other one taking residence in his hair, tentatively brushing lock after lock. She pressed against his back, her clothes remembering him she didn’t stay this time. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here,” she whispered in his ear.

“You-you don’t want to be here,” he managed to reply, shame rousing inside him. Harry was mortified she found him in a ball on his bed after they just had sex. His chagrin  was eating him alive, sending him spiralling in a dark void where he could only feel hatred and disgust for himself, but also heartache and something related to agony, he was sure of it. 

The silence stretched a moment until Harry sniffed, his hand squeezing the comforter tighter against his chest. An owl hooted outside, reviving Harry’s melancholy at not having Hedwig to talk to, with whom he could share without embarrassment his fright of dying without being loved. 

“That’s only because you don’t want me to be here, Harry,” murmured Ginny, her words shattering his heart. Regret burnt in his veins, knowing he’d afflicted Ginny with his deepest terror.

Being dumped, ditched by the person you trusted the most. 

Harry turned on his back, needing her to understand she did nothing wrong, on the contrary, that he never wanted her to feel abandoned or betrayed. But the words died in his throat when he saw her eyes filled with her own tears. 

“I just want to protect you from me,” he pleaded with her to understand. She had to understand.

Ginny closed her eyes, inhaling sharply, the hand that was on his shoulder now playing with the hair on his chest, close to his heart. Harry remembered that time to cherish it, to incrust in his mind the solace her small fingers on his skin brought him, soothing the violent anguish torturing his mind. “You’re hurting me more than anyone else could ever do,” she spat at him.

He sniffed again, her words like a knife twisting his heart. He searched for something to say, for the best way to explain his train of thoughts, but he’d never been the best at formulating his idea. 

“Well, I guess I have nothing else to do here,” said Ginny, and he felt her hand lifting from his chest.

He panicked. “No, no. Stay. Please, Ginny.”

She frowned. “Why? For me to hurt even more when you’ll tell me you didn’t change your mind? That you still don’t want to be with me? Just in case? You can’t, Harry. It can’t continue. You can’t fuck me, kiss me like we were still together, and then expect me to be all good with it when you gently remind me we’re not. It’s destroying me,” Ginny said, her voice cracking. Her hand lifted to her mouth and she closed her eyes before turning her back to him, exactly like she did when he let her alone in her room after their last kiss years ago. 

He let her down so many times.

But all he could think of was that: Was she really thinking he only used her body lately for his own physical needs? How could she have been aware that each time they had touched, it  had been the only times he’d felt alive lately? 

She wasn’t trusting him anymore, just like most people she knew. He was now discarded in the “dangerous category”, the same as Tom.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Swallowing, he pressed his palms to his teary eyes, begging himself to regain control of his emotions. Harry sat up, his hand shaking when he moved it to her back. “Don’t- don’t hide from me.” 

He started caressing her back, feeling more confident with her than he ever felt with any other crying girl. Merlin, he was so messed up, he didn’t even know why Ginny ever wanted him. 

Harry should have realised Ginny's trust was something difficult --maybe impossible-- to regain, and that was why she didn’t turn back, still trying to muffle up her sobs. 

He had to try though, to show her it was real what they ever shared, that he meant it when he told her he loved her. He should have said it more, showed it more.

At this point, Harry didn’t even know what he was doing, his mind confused, his needs, desires, dreams and fears all twirling and colliding in his head. There were still dangers at being with him, to be displayed by his side, to be linked to him, and his anxiety of losing her was strong enough to leave him breathless and choking in fear. Harry was unable to think straight when it happened, ready to do anything to keep her safe.

Yet, he made a mistake. Again. He knew it now. 

“I’m sorry, Gin. I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, laying his forehead on her shoulder. 

The tears started flowing from his eyes again but he didn’t hold them in, knowing it was no use. Not when it came to her being in pain, a pain he caused. 

“I-I don’t,” he tried. “I don’t know what-what to do. I don’t want you to die too.” 

There was a beat, and then Ginny turned, laying her forehead on his, keeping her eyes close. “I understand, I’m terrorized by the idea of you dying too,” she confided to him, her fingers dancing around his wrist. “Just- I’m my own person and it’s my choice who I date. Just act with your heart for once. I’ll deal with your decision, but-”

“Can I kiss you?” whispered Harry, knowing he’d made up his mind. A life without her was meaningless and he was nonfunctional without her love.  His hand went up to her freckled cheek, the skin there so soft compared to his rough palm. 

Taken aback, Ginny swallowed before humming in response. Without opening her eyes, she leaned her mouth to his, her breath warming his chin. The tip of her tongue moisted her lips in the most tantalizing way, causing Harry’s head to spin, and then she crushed her lips to his. 

He kissed her with fervor, with a passion he wasn’t aware he was capable of. She pushed on his chest and he brought her body with his on the mattress. Straddling him, she kissed his neck and he felt himself being consumed with desire, with a powerful lust leaving him panting. Ginny chuckled in his neck  and then lifted her head to look into his eyes, giving him such a sensual smile he groaned in longing. 

Their love-making this time was like he was remembering it: full of intensity and filled with love, little attentions and pure ecstasy. 

"Give me some time," she whispered when they were regaining their breath, her head resting on his chest. “I-I need time.” Harry’s breath hitch and Ginny surely heard it because she lifted her head and moved on him to rest her chin on her hands, which were close to his heart. She kissed his chin tenderly. 

“I love you, I just-”

“I understand,” said Harry, cutting her. Because he did, really did. “I’ll wait. I love you. Forever,” he told her earnestly, caressing her hair and promising himself he’d do all he ever needed to do to get her trust back.

[stanbillyhargrove]

Ghosts chp 20

Ally's Story

T/W: sexual assault, eating disorder

Ally's story is NOT nice, it's based off Cat's story from Demons but without the support system that Cat had

Katrina's POV

Ally was perched on the end of my bed, watching as I changed the bandages on my stomach. I taped sterile white gauze to my skin and eased myself back onto the bed with a groan.

"You've been hanging around a lot," I mumbled.

"Do you not want me here? I can leave."

"No! Wait, stay. Please, I like the company. I just mean, I hadn't seen you in a long time."

"When he's around we can't get close to you," she explained, "he keeps us away. But he's weak right now."

She sat back against the wall with a sigh, eyeing me after catching me staring at her, "what?"

"What's your story, Ally? What happened to you?"

She held her arms up so I could see the two long cuts that ran down her forearms, "isn't it obvious?"

"That's not your story, not all of it."

She dropped her arms into her lap, "you don't have to pretend to care. I'm already dead."

I stretched my hand across the bed, reaching for her, "I do care."

Her eyes were teary when she met my gaze, her jaw tight, but she still moved closer to take my hand.

--

"Mommy, Daddy's home," I announced.

She shook her head, "no, sweetie, he's not off work for a couple hours."

But then, a few minutes later, he walked through the door. Sent home early because of the blizzard sweeping through town. My mother brushed it off, saying I must have seen his car even though I was playing nowhere near the windows at the time.

That feeling, that sense of knowing, it never went away. As I got older, I realized it wasn't normal to know when someone was getting close. It wasn't normal to turn around and yell out your friends names when they were trying to sneak up on you. I started losing friends fast, nobody wanted to be associated with the outcast. The chubby cheeked weirdo that gave everyone the heebie jeebies.

I was twelve when the bullying shifted from my weirdness to my weight. The rest of my classmates had shed their baby fat and were lean where I still had a layer of pudge. That's when everything started to turn for the worst. Boys who knew I was crushing on them would sneer and laugh to their friends when I passed them. They'd pretend to like me outside of school just to turn around and shun me once in a group of classmates. Girls looked down on me, snickered when they saw me eating lunch.

Comments started coming from my family through the years too. Things like, 'haven't you eaten enough?' 'You know, everything you put on has to come off.' 'A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.' And, 'do you think you need seconds?'

My mom too, liked to tell me how little she weighed as a teenager. Joked about how her and her friends would compare thigh gaps like it was no big deal. She complained about how much she weighed now that she'd had me even though she still looked like she could be whisked away by a strong breeze. She thought she was helping by telling me maybe I'd have more friends, maybe boys would like me if I lost some weight.

At fifteen I found a website filled with pages and pages of wispy girls who's bones stuck through their skin. Girls who bragged that they had to wear children's clothes because nothing else fit, bragged about the amount of exercise they'd done that day. They shared tips and tricks to curb your hunger, told you if you followed all the rules you too could be beautiful, weightless, like them.

By sixteen, I was one of them. Comparing each days food and exercise with a group of people like me. I finally found my people, my sisters, the ethereal Wintergirls. I fed exclusively off people's compliments and they loved to tell me how much better I looked now. My mom praised my hard work, indulged my diet coke addiction. She was proud to have created a Wintergirl in her image.

Nobody in those groups liked to talk about the negatives. They didn't warn me that becoming one of them wouldn't be glamorous. That it meant constantly freezing, that your body starts growing more hair to keep you warm, that the hair on your head will get thin and lifeless, your nails turn blue and even a light brush will leave bruises on your skin. They didn't tell me that no matter what goals you hit, there would always be another. I wasn't prepared for my life to become consumed by numbers. How many sit ups, how many inches, tracking weight down in a notebook and sobbing if was more than last time. They didn't mention that I'd still hate myself no matter what.

I started swallowing handfuls of pills, secretly hoping that this time it would be enough to poison my liver. I want to go to sleep and not wake up, but I don't know that I want to die. I want to be normal, to eat and not hate myself, but that's not who I am anymore.

I kept waking up, forced to struggle through another day. Started drowning myself in alcohol every night and on the weekends, trying to find something to make me feel again. Some of the more popular girls started talking to me, asking for the secret on how to look as good as I do now, inviting me to parties hoping to get me to spill. I went to the parties but not to spill my secrets. I went for the free alcohol and eventually the drugs that the boys brought.

I had found my usual party group, the people who carried baggies of various things in their pockets. Accepted a baggie from a baby faced jock who smiled when he passed it to me.

"It'll be fun," he whispered in my ear, "trust me."

I looked at the pills for a moment before tossing them into my mouth and taking a swig of my drink to swallow them down.

"Good girl," he praised.

He didn't leave my side, didn't let me leave his sight. He was always there with an arm around me even though I didn't know him. Tempting me with tinted eyes.

This doesn't feel right.

I should have known better.

After a while, I started to feel weird. My limbs felt too heavy to move and I thought I was going to pass out. I leaned heavy into the boys side, not trusting my legs to keep me up anymore.

"It just hit you, didn't it?" He asked, holding me up.

My tongue felt too thick to move, to protest, when he picked me up. Threw me over his broad shoulder and took me back to his house.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he soothed.

I struggled to cry out, to push his hands away but he was so much bigger than me, had layers of muscle where I had only bone. His hands were too rough when he grabbed, when he held my wrists in one hand and undressed me with the other.

I tried again to move my legs, to fight him, but nothing worked.

"Relax," he murmured, "I'll make you feel good."

The room faded in and out through eyes blurry with tears. I could feel him. Everywhere. Every inch of me consumed by his warmth. The moments where I could almost grasp clarity were filled with pain.

He wiped a tear from my cheek, his touch tender now when he whispered, "I know you're into it...God, you feel so good."

I didn't wake up again until sometime in the morning. The sun had barely kissed the sky, just enough that the room I was in wasn't pitch black anymore. Just enough light to see that the sheets I was wrapped in were blue, not white. Just enough light to know I didn't know where I was. It took me a moment to realize there was someone else in the bed with me, a large arm wrapped loose around my waist. Tanned skin tight around broad shoulders that I might have felt safe in before. I screwed my eyes shut tight, hoping this was a horrible nightmare. But, when I opened them I was still here. The dark bruises in the shape of his fingers still stuck on my skin, the pain was still there.

I slid out of the bed, biting the inside of my cheek and praying that I could get out of here without him waking up. Apparently the universe thought I deserved this small favor because I was able to find my stuff, get dressed and slip out of his house without anyone seeing me.

Outside, I pulled my phone from my pocket to figure out where I was. I was an hour's walk away from home. By the time I got home...I'd have to get ready for school right away. I sent out a quick text to my group for someone to bring me something strong to get me through the day and started my long walk of shame.

I did the best I could to hide all the bruises under my clothes before going to school. Long sleeves pulled down into my fists, dark leggings, I even layered on a shirt with the tallest neckline I could find. Hid the red circles around my eyes under dark makeup and called it good enough.

I disappeared into the crowd at school, slinking from shadow to shadow like I was hiding from a spotlight. Thankfully, someone answered my text and slipped a baggy into my pocket during a quick hug. I wasted no time swallowing the pills, didn't even question it. I just needed everything to stop.

I only got through my first class without seeing him.

I was at my locker when suddenly I was picked up and spun around. I was too shocked to do anything more than shriek. Hit the ground and spun around to find myself face to face with that same boy. The star of the football team, he was all broad shoulders and a soft, innocent face. He came from money and everybody loved him because of it. But, of course, they didn't know what really lied behind that sweet face.

"Hey babe," he cooed, "missed you this morning. You could have stayed, I would have driven you home."

The breath rushed from my lungs and I was reliving flashes of memories from the night before. Once again trying and failing to fight back. Hearing his voice in my ear.

"Hey, Bryce!" Another jock clapped him on the shoulder, "introduce us to your girlfriend!"

"I..your...what?" I stammered.

"Guys, Ally...Ally, guys," he beamed, pulling me into his side.

The group of them said their hellos, and then quickly disappeared to their own lockers. I shoved him as hard as I could, but I barely moved him an inch. He still had a smile on his face even though his eyebrows had knit with confusion.

"Your girlfriend?" I hissed.

"Well, yeah? I assumed, after last night, y'know?"

"You assumed!"

He lifted his hands defensively, "take it easy, don't need to shout."

I spun and stalked away from him, to a quieter, more secluded corner of the school to try and calm my nerves.

He followed me, practically purring, "trying to find somewhere private for us?"

I stopped, dumbfounded, giving him time to come up behind me and plant a kiss to my neck.

I recoiled, shoving Bryce away and shouting, "get off me!"

"What the fuck is your problem? You gave it up so easy last night and now you're gunna act like a prude?"

"I...I didn't give anything! You took! You drugged me, carried me home when I couldn't walk and had sex with me when I couldn't say no! You raped me!"

"Babe," he started, "come on-"

"No! Don't fucking call me babe, I don't even know you! I'm not your girlfriend! I'm your victim!"

He got in my face, close enough I could feel the heat from his skin, and growled, "fuck you. We could have been something, y'know? I could have given you everything. You asked for the drugs, remember? You're just a fucking whore, using men to get what you want and then dropping them. You wait, I will fucking destroy you."

By the afternoon, everybody had seen the pictures he took of me unconscious and were calling me a whore. Calling me a skeleton, ugly, a tease, a user. Nobody could believe I didn't want it. 'Look at him,' they'd say, 'he's gorgeous. How could you not want him?' Or, 'I'd give anything to have him even look at me and you're complaining?'

--

It only took a couple days before someone approached me outside of my class. Asked if I'd sleep with him if he gave me something.

"Are you serious? You think I'm a prostitute or something? Try being a gentleman and asking a girl on a date, you'd have a better chance."

His eyebrows raised, "you wanna go on a date with me?"

"Not now I don't, shitdick," I scoffed, pushing my way into class.

Later that day, people were saying I'd slept with him anyway.

--

This went on for months. People would approach me asking for sex and when I turned them down, they made up a story and spread it around.

There was one boy...I thought he was different. He said all he wanted was to take me on a date, for me to give him a chance. So I did. I let him take me out for a coffee since I didn't eat in front of anyone. We actually had a good time, he made me laugh for the first time in a long time. For a minute, I felt like maybe I could see a way out of the dark.

Then, our way out of the cafe, I thought I saw a glimpse of Bryce but when I looked again, I didn't see him.

He drove us away from the city, to a secluded area where it was just the two of us. We sat in the back of his car, talking for a while until he brought me close and kissed me. Fingers started to tug at clothing, pulling a noise of protest from my throat.

"I took you out," he murmured, "now be a good girl for me."

I let my mind go blank, let him take what he wanted. Saw Bryce in his place and let a few tears fall silently.

I realized that no matter how good I thought things could be, no matter what I do, Bryce would still be on top of me and I still wouldn't be able to breathe. He'd always be there, sneering that he'd destroy me.

--

Eating was hard. Breathing was hard. Living was the hardest.

I felt like I had started dying the night Bryce took me home. Like everything since then had to have been a fever dream caused by cells deteriorating. Last night had nailed that feeling home. That I was already dead, just stuck in hell.

I showed up at school to see a snickering crowd in front of my locker. 'Whore' was painted across the door along with 'Liar' and 'Dirty Slut'.

Standing at the front of the crowd with a wicked grin on his face was Bryce and the rest of the football team.

He invaded my space, my senses, the heat radiating from his skin threatening to burn me up. The heady cologne he wore, a toxic gas that stole oxygen from my lungs and replaced it with poison.

His voice, low and husky in my ear when he sneered, "nobody believes you. Nobody cares about you. I bet nobody would even care if you were gone," he pulled away just enough to look into my eye, "I win."

I was holding back tears as I tried to retreat from the school, walking as fast as I could to escape the laughter when my arm was caught in someone's hand. I looked up at the girl who grabbed me and recognized her from some of my classes. We weren't really friends but we were close enough to know each other.

"You okay?"

I faked a smile, tried to ignore my voice cracking, "awesome...I'm awesome."

"Hey, screw those assholes, Ally."

I knew she was trying to help, that she thought her words would be enough to break through months of abuse hurled my way.

They weren't.

My shoulders slumped, "haven't you heard? I already did."

I slipped between her fingers and didn't look back.

--

"Whatever happened to chivalry?" Ally sighed, leaning against the wall next to me, "romance? I always wanted a relationship like in those cheesy old movies. You know, where the love interest makes some grand gesture to say they love you? That's what I dreamed of."

I wiped the tears from my face, "Ally.."

She smiled sadly at me, "I always thought I'd find the one when I became perfect. That if I could just be good enough...but that never happened, perfect never came."

@alias-b @charmed-asylum @champagnesugamama