Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Walk away, Riley.
I take a deep breath and shove everything down, all the anger and the maelstrom of emotions that seem to drown me. My eyes close for a second, as I regain my composure.
Walk away and don’t look back.
I am Riley Johnson, poised and confident. Calm, cool and collected. The perfect lady that my mother raised and my father expects me to be. I don’t make a scene. I don’t yell and I don’t cry.
With my back straight and my shoulders squared, I nudge my chin high and stare at Jasper. He smirks into the kiss, his gaze still on me.
He’s not going to break me. Not tonight.
“Your party is lame, Jasper,” I drawl, my cheeks burning, but I force my perfect pageant smile on my lips, “and cheating on me publicly? That’s lame too. Quite overrated, I would say. Do better, I dare you.”
I don’t wait for a response. I don’t stay to hear their mocking laughter or see their taunting grins. I walk away, because that’s what a lady does.
I am Riley Johnson, poised and confident. Calm, cool and collected.
I walk away from the party, avoiding Blythe when she calls out to me. I don’t stop until the sound of the music fades into the night, until I am far away from his house and everyone there.
I don’t stop until my lungs are burning, and I double over in pain. Keep walking, Riley. Don’t stop, don’t look back.
I wish I hadn’t sent Mr. Rodney, my personal chauffeur, back home. He was the one who drove me here. I could call him and tell him to come and pick me up, but he’s going to ask questions. And will probably report back to my father. I don’t have the energy to deal with their questions or my father’s judgments right now.
It takes me a whole hour to get home. I have long taken off my heels, and my feet are so blistered, I can see some cuts that are bleeding.
When I get there, it’s late, and the house is eerily silent. I don’t know if my parents are home yet, but I quietly make my way to the kitchen. I limp around with my sore feet. I grab a tray of food, piling anything I can get my hands on onto the plates.
Somewhere in the back of my head, there are red signals flashing. But the devils on my shoulders are whispering in my ears. Encouraging me.
I am trapped in the claws of misery, but I don’t stop until there’s no space left on my tray. I quietly make my way back to my bedroom. There, I pull out of my phone and quickly scroll through the take-out app. Ordering a large cheese pizza, then I add some muffins and bacon to the order. After a second-thought, I add two large fries to my cart. When I’m finished, I make sure to leave a note for the driver. “Don’t ring the bell. Leave the food at the door.”
There. Done.
The smell of delicious food from my tray beckons me. My misery takes a back seat and excitement, mixed with tense adrenaline, flicker through my veins. I can’t think clearly, my brain is fuzzy and at the first bite of food, it’s like my body is a balloon, and I’m floating.
This is my drug of choice.
Every bite fills me with immense pleasure, and I can’t help but moan in greediness. And once I begin, I can’t stop.
I shovel the food into my mouth and down my throat, enjoying every delicious flavor. This is food heaven. And my stomach’s growing fullness reminds me of a warm, comforting hug. For some people, an orgasm is their level of euphoria.
This is mine.
I only pause long enough to go down and grab the food I ordered. Then I’m back in my room, shoving every bite into my mouth, like I can’t get enough.
It’s not enough.
I can’t stop.
I don’t know how to stop.
I stuff myself past what my body can possibly hold. My lack of control derails, like it always does. Until my tray is clean, and everything I had ordered has been shoved down my throat.
The moment I take my last bite, my mood shifts. The adrenaline and the excitement flicker out, and in comes my anxiety and the feeling of pure disgust and self-loathing.
The fullness of my stomach no longer feels euphoric.
I feel gross, and absolute horror washes over me. I barely make it to the bathroom before I start gagging. Bile tastes acidic on my tongue, and I make it to the toilet just in time for me to start retching violently. But I don’t stop there. Shoving my two fingers down my throat, I force out every bite I gladly took earlier.
I can’t afford to gain weight.
I can’t…not do this.
The devils on my shoulders are laughing now. Taunting me.