She sat in the chair, on edge. She would have to move quickly so that her mother, currently in the kitchen with a sleeping Elizabeth tied on her back, wouldn’t see her. She had positioned herself near the washing machine so she could stash the food bag in the crevice between the washing machine and the wall. But currently she had the bag hidden in her lap. She chewed her food slowly, swallowing some of the juice but refusing to swallow the bulk of the food. When she was sure that everyone was looking away, she spat the food pellet into her palm and quickly put the pellet in the bag.
She spent the rest of the meal doing this, chewing the food but not swallowing it and stashing the pellets into a small lunch bag. She would then hide this bag of food by the washer, and flush its contents down the toilet in the middle of the night. This she did almost ritualistically, in a last ditch attempt to control the outcome of her life.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
She stood on the scale, willing it to tell her she had lost her weekly 2 pounds. It didn’t. She had only lost one. She felt so repulsed by herself that she was both enraged and saddened. Deeply.
What are your thoughts? We want to know!