CHAPTER TWO

MCKINLEY

I hate Mondays. Alright, I know everybody hates Mondays, but not like me. I really hate them. That’s weigh-in day. My boyfriend Erik makes me weigh myself in front of him every Monday at eight in the morning. He never forgets or deviates from this nonsense. It’s always the same. I either stay the same weight or I gain. Rarely do I lose, which always ends in Erik scolding me for sneaking food, even though I don’t.

“On the scale, McKinley.”

Instantly, my eyes water. “Please don’t make me.”

It all started with him saying he wanted to help and support me, but it changed quickly. Every time he sees my weight, he gets angrier than the time before.

“Goddamn it, McKinley. Get on the fucking scale. I have to get to rehearsal.”

I sigh audibly as I step onto the scale and he glares at the numbers on the display, then up at me. “For fuck’s sakes, McKinley. What are you eating while I work?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. Only the stuff on the list.”

Erik has given me a list of prescribed foods that I’m allowed to have. There are no carbs allowed except for vegetables, and even those are only allowed in moderation. Every week he goes through my food diary. I have to list everything I consume, even the amount of water I drink.

“There is no way, if you’re sticking to the list, that you wouldn’t lose weight. You don’t eat healthy and gain six pounds. One hundred seventy-six pounds, McKinley. This is unacceptable. I don’t fucking date fat women. You’re an embarrassment.”

Grabbing my face in his hand, he squeezes painfully. “No more cream for your coffee. Until you learn how to control yourself, you won’t have that privilege.”

He lets go of me and goes to the refrigerator, taking out my sugar free cream and dumping it down the sink drain. Erik knows my coffee is the last little treat I had. This is punishment.

“I am not eating anything not on the list, Erik.”

Walking over to the refrigerator, he grabs the marker and begins crossing things off the list. “Peas have sugar, so no more. Corn, I said you could have occasionally, but that’s out now.”

What I hate the most is that I cry. Every time, without fail.

“Why are you doing this? Don’t you love me, for me?”

I already know the answer before he opens his mouth to respond, “You’re fat, McKinley. Disgustingly fat. I told you before, I don’t date fat chicks. Get your shit together or I’m out.”

He storms off and walks out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Abuse is a never-ending cycle. For most of us, it starts in childhood and moves into adulthood. It’s not that we don’t want to break it, it’s just that it seems so impossible. For me, it’s all I’ve ever known, so instead of fighting it, I join in.

I grab the marker and write on my leg, ‘Fat’. Then my arm, ‘Disgusting’. Next, my other leg, ‘Repulsive’. They are all words he says about me, but I feel them too, every time I look at myself in the mirror. Nobody chooses to feel like this about themselves. I don’t think anybody wants to loathe the reflection staring back at them, but I do.

Three knocks on the door make me put down my sharpie and throw on a robe. Every Monday, like clockwork, my best friend, Mia, shows up at my door. She will try to appeal to my common sense and get me to break up with him. It’s the same advice I’d give her, but I never follow it myself. The cycle of abuse is vicious, and the more you experience, the more you believe you deserve it.

I open the door to her concerned face and she comes in with coffee. “You have cream, right?”

Shaking my head, I close the door behind me and admit, “Not anymore. Until I start losing weight, I’m not allowed. It’s fine. I’ll drink it black.”

She hands me my coffee and plops down on the sofa.

“Goddamn it, McKinley. This has to stop. I know your history but I don’t get it. Do you want to live like this for the rest of your life? He treats you like a dog. You deserve better than this. Anybody does.”

I take a seat beside her, and she grabs my robe and yanks it, while she stares at the marker on my skin.

“If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me. This hurts me seeing you like this. Stress causes weight gain, you know. He is probably doing this to you.”

I take a sip of my bitter coffee and swallow quickly to get the taste out of my mouth. My friend bought it to be nice, so while she’s here, I’ll force myself to drink it, but when she leaves I’m getting rid of it.

She pulls the robe closed, so it covers my leg again.

“I’m saying something to him. You asked me to keep my mouth shut, and I did, but no more. This has to stop.”

I grab her arm and beg her, “No, please. We have The Dark Notes concert. It’s the only thing getting me through and if you say something to him, that’s gone. Please.”

Erik is the guitarist for the band opening for them, and it’s the only reason I can get in. I could never afford the three hundred dollar tickets and if she pisses him off, he will not give us our tickets. Mia and I have been over the moon about this show since they got the last minute gig. This is the biggest gig Erik’s band, The Glass Monkeys, has ever gotten. Even he has been excited and there’s little that makes him happy.

“Fine.”

She rolls her eyes. “For now, I’ll keep my mouth shut, but no more sharpie for you. You can’t control what he says to you, but you can control what you say to yourself.”

Mia doesn’t get it. I can’t stop what my mind says about me. I only write what’s in my head. It’s not like I sit there and think of the worst things you can say to someone. Our internal dialogue is filled with things we’d never say to another human being. Except Erik, I guess, because he says it without seeming to have any difficulty. I haven’t always marked my body with mean words. Not long after the weigh-ins started, he drew all over the parts of me he thought were fat. He called it motivation. I called it devastating. He wrote ‘fat’ in huge letters on my stomach, ‘Thunder’ on my left thigh, and ‘thighs’ on my right. Not long after, I started doing it to myself. I can’t explain it to Mia because I don’t entirely understand it myself.

“It’s abuse,” she whispers before continuing, “McKinley, you are abusing yourself. Please stop.”

I nod in defeat because this is something she’ll never comprehend. Living it is the only way you come close to getting why someone would do this to themselves. I know it’s not normal and honestly, if she did it to herself, I’d be horrified. “I’ll try.”

Mia is a gorgeous tall blonde, with eyes bluer than the ocean, and every man that lays eyes on her wants her. At one hundred twenty-five pounds, Erik tells me constantly I should look like her. Of course, he wishes I looked like my model best friend, but I never will.

“You know my agent is always reminding me to keep my weight down, but even I don’t have someone monitoring every morsel of food I put into my mouth. This isn’t healthy. This is how fucking eating disorders are born.”