Fighting Weight Page 22

  Me: Luck. SOS. Please.

  Bypassing the many calls and text messages from Slater and the girls once again, I decide to call my last lifeline before She takes me completely under.

  I try Kristie. I need her. I need Lucky. Her voice is too strong.

  You’re useless…

  Look at what you’ve done. What kind of a friend and sister are you?

  Beep.

  “Kris, please. I—I, I’m losing…” I barely get out, before I hang up and throw my phone across the room, pissed off that I’ve had to call her again. “Fuck you’re a waste of space, Ali! Like she cares? She gets paid to listen and to spew her bullshit. She’s not your fucking friend. You’re such an idiot,” I tell myself, the anger festering. “And fuck Lucky! Where is he? Isn’t he supposed to be my fucking hero? Oh wait, a girl like me doesn’t deserve one.” I laugh bitterly to myself.

  You stupid, inconsiderate bitch.

  Eat, Alina. Take back control. You need me, not them… Eat the cake; eat the ice cream.

  She won’t stop.

  Dump out those grocery bags. It will feel so good…

  …it will feel like home.

  “No, no, no!” I yell, placing my hands over my ears trying to shut Her out. I can’t regulate my breathing. My heart is palpitating so hard that I worry there’s something really wrong with me. My body is almost convulsing, I’m shaking so badly from the adrenaline of Her words, and the truth that lingers behind them. She is my home.

  Why won’t She just leave me alone?

  Trying to resist the urge to cave, I struggle to remind myself of the strategies I’ve learned when fighting bingeing and purging.

  “Deep breaths. Just take deep breaths. You can beat this. It will pass.”

  You can’t ever beat me.

  Looking at the clock, I note the time and clock twenty minutes like Elijah suggested trying in group one day.

  “Sometimes giving yourself a threshold of time to wait before giving in makes it go away,” he’d said.

  “Remember bingeing and purging won’t take away the reason you feel like doing it,” Kristie told me once, and I try to remind myself of this now.

  But it will feel so good…

  “Call a friend you trust,” someone in group suggested.

  Neither are responding. They don’t want to deal with any more of your whiny bullshit.

  “Read. Try to take your mind off of it,” another had added to the growing list.

  I can’t see through my tears.

  Fuck reading, fuck my friends, fuck waiting, fuck everything!

  “Fuuuccckkk!” I scream, pulling at the ends of my hair on each side of my head. “I hate this. I hate you! I. Fucking. Hate. This. You’re so fucking stupid. You’re a fucking joke. You aren’t worth it, you’re fucking useless. Just eat, you fat bitch. Fuck it all, fuck you, and fuck them, and most of all, fuck Her!”

  I snarl at my reflection in the mirror before grabbing the three beige plastic bags off the desk. Moving back to the foot of the bed, I pour the contents across the blanket, the food scattering this way and that.

  It looks like heaven, but it’s my hell.

  Breyers vanilla ice cream.

  Hostess chocolate cakes.

  Double-stuffed Oreo cookies.

  Strawberries.

  Lay’s ketchup chips.

  Marshmallows.

  Peanut butter.

  Pretzels.

  Water.

  Water.

  Orange juice.

  And more water.

  Reaching for a two-pack of Hostess chocolate cupcakes, I tear open the crinkly plastic, pull out the first, and devour it in two bites. I eat one, two, then reach for more…three, four…

  I can feel myself starting to calm down.

  Good girl, I’m all you ever need. Welcome back…

  47

  Slater

  “What the hell do you mean, you think she’s in her room,” I ask, towering over Paisley, who’s visibility upset. But I’m looking for a confrontation because I’m so pissed, so I could give two shits. “How could you guys let her go? Didn’t you follow her?” I rub the back of my neck, frustrated. I’m wasting time here, I’m better off to go break her fucking door in and see for myself if she’s in there, safe. After leaving Tommy, I’d rushed around to each of the girls’ rooms, and finally found them all huddling in Rain’s suite, upset and trying to figure out how to best help Ali.

  “We were in shock, it all happened so fast,” Paisley says, using a Kleenex to wipe her eyes. “You think we willingly let her go after that? She’s our friend, Slater, we wouldn’t ever do that to her. We kept trying, calling and knocking on her door…it’s not like we just gave up.” Paisley’s tone is more pissed than upset now, and I can’t blame her. I’m being an asshole.

  “Slate, man. Take it easy. You need to back off a bit. This isn’t their fault,” Rain says, shoving my chest and forcing me to withdraw like I should. He’s right. This isn’t their fault. It’s mine. I should have looked at the list. Fucking Penny Donaldson.

  “I know, you’re right,” I say. “I’m so fucking angry right now, I have half a mind to hunt that reporter bitch down myself. I’m sorry, Pais, I was out of line. Ali won’t answer my calls or texts, and I couldn’t find any of you guys. I was losing it after Tommy filled me in,” I tell them truthfully, running my hands down my face. Seeing them all upset and worried, and me coming in here guns blazing, makes me feel like a total dick. “I mean it. I know I’m being an asshole. None of this is your fault.” I place my hand on Paisley’s shoulder and she nods. Looking around, the others nod too, and offer small smiles.

  “I know,” says Paisley. “We’re all upset. Question is, what do we do now? Should we call Lucky?”

  “I think we better,” Siobhán says, and we all agree. “I know Ali told us she needs space when she gets upset, but this news getting out will be huge for her. He might be what she needs, even if over the phone.”

  “Plus, we should let him know that the story about their family might be out there, to give him a heads up. I’ll go call him and fill him in,” Paisley says, moving towards the bedroom for privacy.

  “She isn’t answering my calls or texts,” I say, feeling frustrated and defeated. I wave off the beer Rain’s offering me.

  “She isn’t responding to us either, Slate,” Roxie pipes up. “She won’t open up. The adjoining door between our rooms is locked. We can’t get in. The front desk denied us entry, said her room is set as ‘do not disturb’, so they wouldn’t open it because the room’s not in our names. The one nice concierge did take us up there, only after we said it was an emergency, but said he couldn’t justify opening the door when we didn’t hear her inside. I’m sorry, we tried. We keep trying.”

  Hearing this makes my blood boil. How can they not barge in after being told it’s an emergency? What the fuck constitutes “an emergency”? I make a mental note to ask the manager when I go back down.

  “I can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now,” Siobhán says, although it seems it’s more to herself than us. “We had no clue. She’s always said she and her family weren’t close, except her and Lucky. She’d always change the subject. Poor Ali. I feel sick to my stomach. And, knowing her, she’s probably up there thinking we’re mad at her. I’m not mad, I just wish we’d have known so we could have reacted better, faster…” she trails off, taking a sip of water.

  “Guys, she wouldn’t do anything stupid, would she? I mean, she’s been doing so good. Surely this wouldn’t set her back? Or would it? Fuck, I wish I knew more about—” Rox cuts herself off, as if just realizing now that Rain and I are here.

  “It’s okay. Ali’s told me some, and don’t worry about Rain, he’s not gonna say shit.” I give him a look, and he agrees.

  “I never say shit about anything,” Rain says. “Besides, I’d never hurt Ali. She’s our people now.” He shrugs, and I see Rox forgive herself for the slip.

  “I’ve wasted enou
gh time.” I stand up. “I’m getting into her room if I have to kick in the door myself. I’ll keep you posted,” I nod, before giving the girls a hug, reassuring them that she’ll be okay, and that I’ll do whatever I can to help her.

  I’m at the door when Rain shouts for me to text him if I need backup from our security team.

  I wave over my shoulder. Right now, all I need is to see that Ali’s all right. And if she’s not, I hope she’ll at least be willing to let me try and help her.

  A feeling I’ve never experienced much before settles over me as I make my way down the hall to the elevators, a feeling that’s sitting in my stomach like a lump: fear.

  Fear that I have no clue what I’m walking into.

  Fear that I’m about to push too hard and lose what I haven’t had nearly enough of yet.

  Fear that I won’t be able to take her pain away.

  Fear that I’m in over my head. I’ve got no clue what the fuck I’m doing right now. I’m running on emotion and anger.

  Regardless of the fear, I’ve made the easy decision. Alina Cassidy is worth whatever I have to fight to save her. She’s worth too much not to.

  *

  The first thing my eyes catch is the mess on the bed.

  Crumbs.

  Wrappers.

  Chunks of half-eaten food littered over an unkempt bed and spilled on the floor.

  Then my nose catches a whiff of something familiar—puke. Ali’s unspoken words from the plane suddenly click into place, confirming what I’d suspected but was hoping wasn’t true.

  How can someone choose to hurt themselves so brutally? I’ve heard of people having eating disorders, but I’ll admit I have no fucking idea about any of it. I’m so far out of my element, it isn’t funny.

  Educated on the subject or not, it’s clear…

  My girl is hurting.

  Ali is fighting a demon.

  And she needs me more than I ever knew.

  Is she mine? Do I even want this?

  Stepping closer to her bathroom door, the first thing I hear is her.

  Retching.

  Whimpering.

  Coughing.

  Then retching again.

  More coughing, then the sound of puke hitting the toilet, over and over. Chills break out all over my body with each and every moan, grunt, and splash.

  What the fuck?

  My blood runs cold. When she lets out a loud whimper, it sounds like pain. My flight-or-fight instinct kicks in, my earlier fears returning, because shit just got real. And I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.

  Maybe I should just leave, mind my own business, and allow her to do her thing. My mind races, yet my heart and mind know better and my feet stay rooted at the foot of the bed, my head turned toward the bathroom, toward the sounds, and I wait, listening.

  Am I ready to be this guy for this girl?

  Can I do this?

  Do I want to? There are millions of girls, I think, but I half-smile, because this is Ali, and she’s the girl.

  My heart rate picks up when there’s another loud heave, and I make a move towards the door. I need to get in there—I have to fix her.

  Her phone’s on the floor by her bed, and has been buzzing like crazy this whole time. Picking it up, the name “Lucky” appears over and over on the screen, but I let it be. I toss it on the bed, knowing this isn’t the time, but hoping Paisley’s updated him.

  “You need to leave,” I scowl, turning towards the hotel security guard who, I realize, is still here. He’s stepping closer to the bathroom, hearing Ali vomiting again. I’d managed to persuade this guy to let me in her room with the promise of front row tickets and backstage passes to our next show, but now it’s time for him to go.

  “You sure, sir? Should I call an ambulance? Your friend sounds quite ill.”

  “I said to go.”

  “Sir, I thi—”

  “I don’t give a shit what you think, I said leave. Get the fuck out!” I bark, louder than I intend, but having caught another gagging sound coming from the bathroom, I need to get the fuck in there. “Now!”

  “Call the front desk if there’s anything you need, sir.” With that, Hunter, I think his name was, leaves, the door closing with a solid click behind him.

  “Alina!” I pound on the washroom door. “Open the goddamn door,” I shout, unable to help it. My adrenaline is spiked high, and I’m shaking so bad I think I might pass out.

  Worry, anger, fear, revulsion, and a million questions swirl alongside the array of emotions I feel ripping through me on the inside, yet through it all, I have an epiphany: I’m all in with her. I’ll do anything and everything I can to help make her okay.

  “Alina. Open the door! Now,” I repeat again, this time louder and more determined. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re gonna piss me off.”

  I grip the doorframe, waiting, wondering…

  How can someone so beautiful on the outside be so catastrophic within?

  48

  Alina

  I hear my phone buzzing and buzzing somewhere in my hotel room, over and over, insistently.

  Lucky?

  Kristie?

  Who cares? I’m done caring.

  I hear the hotel room door open, and voices booming, walking in closer to where I’m locked inside the washroom. I knew it was only a matter of time.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Is that Slater?

  Oh my god. Thank god I locked the bathroom door just in case.

  I brace myself over the toilet, flushing, trying to make the stench and food go away. He can’t see me like this.

  I pause, hearing the room door slam, thankful that whoever it was left. My stomach and throat revolt in unison at me for forcing them to wait. Without any ability to control it, even if I wanted to, I retch and heave as wave after wave of vomit comes up and hits its target. So much vomit.

  Wiping my mouth, I sink to the ground, too dizzy and weak to stand anymore. My hair sticks to my forehead. I’m seeing black dots, my throat hurts, and I’m splashed with puke.

  How long have I been doing this?

  Yet at the same time, I feel so, so good. I no longer feel as desperate. I feel the high I’ve missed for far too long resurfacing as I lay my forehead on my arm that’s draped over the cold toilet bowl.

  How quickly I’ve gone from hating myself to feeling relaxed, maybe even a little calm. I close my eyes, planning to rest a few minutes before starting the cycle again, when a loud knock sounds and I jump.

  “Alina. Open the goddamn door!”

  Slater. Shit.

  I ignore him. He’ll go away.

  He goes quiet, and I hope he’s decided to leave, that I’m not worth the trouble.

  “Alina Cassidy. Open the door! Now. I’m not going anywhere, and you’re gonna piss me off.”

  “Well, you know what? I’m pissed, too, so go ahead and join me!” I yell. “I’m pissed at me, at my stupid family, at the world, and right now, I’m pissed at you and want to be left alone. So fuck off,” I try to yell again, but it comes out scratchy and weak this time.

  “Be pissed all you want, baby. I’m not leaving until I see you with my own two eyes. Test me if you want, but I’ll tell you right now, I’m winning this fight, Ali.”

  “Fuck you, Slater, and don’t you ‘baby’ me. I’m not your baby. I’m not your anything!” I snarl. “And you’re not my boss. The door’s staying closed. The last thing I want to see right now is you. You’re not in control of me, you’re nothing to me. Nothing but a distraction to help me get through the tour and, FYI, you sucked at it. So, get the hell out of here and leave me the fuck alone.” I try to stand, to get closer to the door so he can better hear the venom in my words, rather than the quiet, croaky voice I have from purging for so long. But I’m too weak to move. Hands trembling, I push myself up over the toilet so I can expel the bright yellow bile that’s surfacing along with all the lies and hurtful words I’m sputtering.
“I’m the one in control here!” I yell, after heaving again.

  “Are you? Sounds to me like the last thing you are is in control, Ali,” he scoffs, and the truth of his words stings.

  You’re right, I’m not. She is.

  “I hate you, Slater, just leave me the hell alone. Go. We’re done here, and I’m clearly busy, distraction no longer needed. Besides, I’m leaving, and whatever we were is over. I’m not good enough, I’ll never be enough, and it’s all over. All of it.” I wave my hand flippantly as if he can see it through the door before a deep-seated wave of nausea hits me as the conscious part of me realizes how I’m ruining everything, tearing everything down around me, just like I always do. I feel the need to be sick again, but this time not from all the food, rather from my lies and the pain I feel shouting these things at a man I’ve come to care about so much kills me.

  Her voice is too strong to fight off. She’s got control of me, and I’m too weak to fight Her but I can’t stop pushing him away.

  “Slater. Go, before I call security,” I warn.

  The bully wins.

  I’ll always win, Alina…

  Unable to keep it down any longer, with tears streaming down my face, I barely get myself up off the floor in time before I purge it all away…

  … my happiness.

  …the friendships I’ve made.

  … my progress

  …and worst of all, Slater.

  49

  Slater

  Standing outside the bathroom, overcome with emotion, I grasp the wooden doorframe to brace myself. I can hear the wood crackling under my fingers, my grip becoming harder and harder as the hurt pushes its way to the surface. I feel as though I’m taking each shot Ali fires my way right in the face.

  “I hate you, Slater! Just leave me the hell alone. Go. We’re done here. Distraction no longer needed…go, before I call security…”