Alana Brookes is a 13 year old girl who's been in the foster care system for 8 years. She had a single mother who tragically died in a car crash. As Alana has grown up, her mental health had hit rock bottom, leaving the girl covered in scars and pra...
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❝ lights, camera, bitch smile ❞
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Alana's pov:
I placed my hands flat onto the bathroom counter, letting the cold surface ground me, trying to calm my anxiety about Blake and Betty who were to arrive any second now. I didn't want anyone to see me, not Taylor and most definitely not two strangers. I feel fat, I look fat and the jeans I'm wearing weren't doing a very good job at hiding that, making me feel as though I was only growing bigger. The jeans were flare jeans, meaning the stuck close to my body untill around my knees before flaring out, meaning not only were they hugging my stomach, they were also finding themselves stuck to the fresh wounds across my thighs. With the jeans, I was wearing a navy blue tank top and a white hoodie which was only being worn to cover my bandaged arms as I didn't want to scare anyone or cause stares. Although I had gotten pretty good at covering up what I had done to people, especially younger children, I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable so just opted to throw a hoodie on and move on.
I swallowed and took a deep breath in, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling, "It's going to be okay," I whisper to myself, however, it didn't feel like it was going to be okay. I felt as though all the little control I have in my life had been taken from me, like I was now some controlled robot who did as people said out of pure fear while having to fight every thought in her brain telling her otherwise.
I had spent far too long of the day sat at the dining room table bawling my eyes out to both Tree and Taylor, begging them to stop forcing me to eat because I couldn't do it but they refused for as long as it took before I finally ate something. At both breakfast and lunch, I wasn't allowed to get up until everything infront of me was gone, I feel huge. All I want to do was curl into a ball and cry, hoping that the tears coming out would somehow make me loose all the weight I could feel gaining onto my body, attaching itself to me, but I couldn't. Instead I was forced to fake a smile to people who are coming into this situation clueless.
The anxiety was turning in my stomach, making me nauseous at the thought of having to sit down at the dinning table once again today to eat once again a full meal, I knew that even with Blake and Betty there Taylor wouldn't let get up until everything was gone.
It was like she was out for me, trying to get me fat, trying to set me up into a trap where all I could do was gain weight. All people have ever seen me for is my weight, all they have ever said is to starve, all they have ever told me is that I'm fat, that I don't deserve food, that I don't need food, so why does everything change the moment a different person lays their eyes on me? Why am I having to rewire my brain to fit different people? I'm tired of everyone having more control over my life then I do, I want my brain to stay they say it is. I'm not 'sick' like everyone seems to think I am, I'm just cautious of my weight, that's how I was taught to be.
