tw: disordered eating mentions, controlled eating

I stared at the messages, a lump forming in my throat. I stumbled into the classroom, Christian talking to Mr. Baker, the AP psychology teacher, though I felt his eyes on me. I took a deep breath, forcing a smile, and entered the classroom.

"Everyone take your seats ... please, quiet down," Mr. Baker called, standing at the edge of his desk in front of the room. Another message came through and I ducked down to look at it.

You're a fat, pathetic slut and no one cares about you. You're such a burden.

I closed my eyes, pushing my phone back into my pocket and tried to focus on Mr. Baker, but my thoughts were tainted. I had blocked Caitlin's number long ago. How did she get it again?

Christian knelt down in front of me and I realized everyone had left the classroom. His eyes were filled with concern. "Show me your phone, Alina." I shook my head and he sighed. "Alina. You've been glancing at your phone for the last hour and you have been staring at the screen for the last two minutes. Show me what's bothering you."

I closed my eyes. "When I lived in Michigan, I was bullied by a girl named Caitlin and her friends. I blocked her number and numbers of her friends but .." I held out my phone for him to take. He did, flipping it around and scanning the messages.

"Alina, you don't deserve what these girls are saying. Come on," he said, tucking my phone into his jacket pocket and gripping my backpack. He stepped back for me to stand. "I'll take you home, we need to talk to Angelo - no, don't give me that look. You need to tell him about this."

"What about what I want?" I asked, blinking away the tears that formed, swiping at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater.

Christian sighed. "I'm sorry, Alina. This is about your wellbeing and safety. I can't not tell him." We walked out of the classroom and into the hallway where Tabitha and Zoe were lingering. Christian leaned down, talking so only I could hear. "Talk to them, they worry about you. Maybe telling them what's going on will help .. I'll call Rafe, tell him what happened."

I nodded and lifted my hand in a small wave at Tabitha. "Hey, are you okay?"

"You spaced out for the entire class," Zoe added.

"Yeah I ... no, I'm not ok. Not really," I murmured, with a tiny shake of my head. I gestured at Christian. "He has my phone, but will you guys call me tonight? I'll tell you everything."

"Are you in trouble?" Zoe asked, and I shook my head.

"No, no, nothing like that. I'll explain tonight."

"Call me anytime," Zoe said, smiling and gestured to Tabitha. "We'll be at my place, you're welcome to come too, by the way."

I smiled, the last time I had been invited to a classmates house since I was in grade 5 for Jonny Walkmans birthday. "Maybe another time, but thank you. I'll talk to you tonight?"

"Definitely."

"Absolutely."

+++

"I want her in prison, Dana," Angelo snarled, his voice filled with coldness and authority. He had been speaking to his lawyer, Dana Fitzgerald, for the last twenty minutes. "...I don't care if she's sixteen or sixty. She needs to face the consequences of her actions."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Angelo."

He glanced up and checked his watch, wincing. "Call me tomorrow, Dana." He hung up and smiled softly at me. "Hey, I'm sorry I kinda lost my cool there."

"It's ... nice of you to care, Angelo." I winced at how pathetic that sounded. My oldest brother smirked, his eyes dancing with amusement. "I mean- thank you, for standing up for me."

Angelo leaned forward. "I will always stand up for you, bambina." He chuckled softly. "I'm almost finished work. Do you want to watch a movie and eat some junk food?"

I nodded, watching him grin and stand, walking around his desk to offer me his hand. We walked from his office, down the hall, and into the kitchen. "Take a seat ... actually, can you grab the ice cream from the cellar?" Angelo asked, his voice muffled as he dug around in the pantry.

"Okay," I said and moved to the door beside the pantry, opening it and flicking on the light. I hurried down the steps, the air becoming cold. I opened the freezer and found four different kinds of ice cream. I picked up chocolate and out of habit, checked the dietary information.

Junk food is bad for you, my mother would snap, with a disappointed shake of her head. "It's a shame to ruin all your hard work just because you don't know when to stop eating that junk."

I closed my eyes, pushing her voice away.

I grabbed the vanilla instead, checking the information.

My hand hovered over the container of chocolate ice cream as I stared at the label. Calories per serving: 280. My mother's voice was like a knife in my head, sharp and cutting through the moment.

"You're going to regret that later, Alina. Do you really want all those empty calories sitting on your hips?" Her voice was cold, clinical, always framed in a way that sounded like she was helping, but it never felt like that. It felt like judgment, like every bite was a test I'd always fail.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing her voice to stop, to go away. But it didn't. It never really did.

"You know, once you put on weight, it's hard to lose it. It's not worth it, just stick with something healthier." Her words wrapped around my chest, suffocating me, it harder to breathe.

I glanced back at the vanilla in my other hand. 160 calories per serving. Still not great, but better, according to the ridiculous rulebook of food my mother had drilled into me. My stomach twisted as I stared at the container, the urge to put it back and just grab something else—anything else—fighting against the part of me that just wanted to enjoy something normal for once. Just a simple scoop of ice cream.

My hand trembled as I opened the door of the freezer again. What if she's right? I could hear the disappointment in her voice so clearly. The sharp looks she'd give me if I ever reached for more than a small serving, the way she'd pinch the fabric of my clothes and say things like, "We'll have to go shopping again if you're not careful."

It was exhausting, never being allowed to enjoy something without feeling like it was a crime. The constant calculation in my head of how many calories, how much fat, how bad it would be. I hadn't even lived with her for months, but her voice was still louder than my own.

"Alina?" Angelo's voice drifted down the stairs, pulling me back. "You good down there?"

I blinked, shaking off the haze of her words. "Yeah, just—just deciding," I called back, forcing a steady tone.

I looked back at the chocolate ice cream. The part of me that still cared what she'd think wanted to put it back, but another part—the part that was slowly growing louder—told me to take it. That it didn't matter. That it was okay to let go of her expectations. She's not here anymore.

With a small, shaky breath, I reached for the chocolate again and put it under my arm. I could practically hear my mother's disapproval echoing in my ears, but I ignored it. This wasn't about her. It was about me.

I made my way back up the stairs, the cold container clutched against my side. Angelo was leaning against the kitchen counter, bags of chips and candy spread across the table like a mini-feast. When he saw me, his grin widened.

"Chocolate, good choice," he said, moving to grab bowls and spoons.

I smiled weakly, setting the ice cream down on the counter. My mother's voice still lingered in the back of my mind.

Angelo handed me a bowl and spoon. "Go ahead, take as much as you want. We deserve a little treat after today."

I scooped a generous portion into my bowl, my chest still tight but easing as I looked up at Angelo's easygoing smile. He didn't care about calories or portions. He didn't care if I had seconds or thirds.

It's just ice cream.

It's just ice cream.

It's just ice cream.

"Hey, what's on your mind? Are you not feeling well or something?" Angelo reached out and touched the back of his hand to my forehead, checking for a temperature.

I blinked, realizing I had spaced out. "I ... don't know. I think..." I trailed off, glancing away from my brother's worried eyes.

"Alina, you can tell me," he said softly.

I glanced back at the ice cream. I have so many issues now, he doesn't need to know about this. "Tomorrow is my first swim practice tomorrow. I guess I'm nervous."

He looked doubtful that I had told the truth - but I did, it just wasn't the whole truth. He smiled though. "You will do great, bambina. I know it."

"Thanks, Angelo."

"Come on, let's go and pick a movie." He gathered some snacks in his arms. I forced my mother's voice out and followed him with my own armful of snacks. Fuck you mom.

+++

I hesitated, staring at the screen of my phone, my finger hovering over the FaceTime icon. I had promised Tabitha and Zoe I would tell them everything, but now that the moment was here, my stomach twisted with anxiety. What if they thought I was being dramatic? What if they didn't understand?

With a deep breath, I hit the button, watching the screen as it rang. After what felt like an eternity, Tabitha's face popped up, followed by Zoe's. They were both sitting on Zoe's bed, cozy under blankets. Their faces lit up as soon as they saw me.

"Hey!" Tabitha said, leaning closer to the screen. "How are you feeling?"

"Yeah, we've been worried about you," Zoe added, her eyes soft with concern.

I forced a smile, but it didn't quite reach my eyes. "I'm okay, I guess. Thanks for calling."

"You said you wanted to talk about something earlier," Tabitha prompted gently. "What's going on?"

I bit my lip, suddenly unsure how to begin. My mind swirled with memories of Caitlin and her friends, of all the cruel things they had said and done. I swallowed hard, glancing away from the camera for a moment to gather my thoughts.

"I... I haven't told you guys much about my old life," I started, my voice shaky. "Back in Michigan."

Tabitha and Zoe were silent, waiting patiently for me to continue. I took a deep breath.

"There was this girl, Caitlin. She was... well, she made my life hell," I said, my voice growing quieter as I spoke. "She and her friends bullied me—constantly. I don't even know why it started, but once it did, it just got worse and worse."

Zoe's face fell, and she shook her head. "That's awful, Alina. What did they do?"

"They called me names, spread rumors, made me feel like I was worthless." My hands trembled slightly as I remembered the messages from today. "They used to say things like I was too fat, or that I didn't belong. Caitlin would find any excuse to tear me down."

Tabitha's brow furrowed in anger. "That's horrible! Why didn't anyone stop them?"

I sighed, leaning back against my headboard. "I don't know. Some of the teachers didn't care, and others just didn't see what was happening. I tried to tell myself it didn't matter, that it wouldn't follow me here, but then..."

I trailed off, pulling my phone from where Christian had left it on the nightstand. I held it up for them to see. "Somehow Caitlin got my number again, even though I blocked her. She's been sending me messages. That's why I spaced out in class and Christian took my phone."

Their eyes widened as I flipped through the texts, showing them the cruel words that Caitlin had written.

"You're a fat, pathetic slut and no one cares about you. You're such a burden," I read aloud, my throat tightening with each word. "She just won't leave me alone."

Zoe's eyes filled with anger. "What the hell is wrong with her?"

"Why can't she just move on?" Tabitha added, her voice thick with frustration. "It's like she's obsessed with hurting you."

I shrugged, feeling a weight settle in my chest. "I don't know. But it's hard to shake it off, you know? Every time I think I'm starting to feel better, starting to forget about everything, she finds a way to remind me."

Zoe's face softened, and she leaned closer to the screen. "Alina, I'm so sorry you had to go through that. You didn't deserve any of it."

"And you don't deserve it now, either," Tabitha said firmly. "You're not what she says you are. You're strong, and you're kind, and we're here for you. Always."

I blinked back the tears that had begun to blur my vision, their words cutting through the fog of doubt that Caitlin had wrapped around me. "Thank you," I whispered. "I just... I don't know how to make it stop. Angelo called his lawyer, who is going to contact her parents. I think he'll file a restraining order against her for me. I just ... with everything that happened with my mom and stepfather, I didn't want to tell anyone or ask for help."

Zoe shook her head. "Asking for help doesn't make you weak. It makes you smart."

"And strong," Tabitha added. "It takes strength to open up and let people in."

I smiled, a real one this time. "I guess you're right. Thanks, guys. I really needed this."

Zoe grinned. "Anytime. And remember, if she keeps texting you, we'll figure out how to block her for good. Or we'll confront her ourselves."

I laughed softly, the weight on my chest lifting just a little. "I'll hold you to that."

Tabitha nodded. "We're serious. No one messes with our girl."

We spent the next few minutes talking about lighter things—homework, movies, anything to distract me from the mess Caitlin had stirred up. By the time we hung up, I felt a little lighter, a little more ready to face whatever came next.

As I set my phone down, I realized that for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel completely alone. And that made all the difference.

+++

The cold water was a shock as I plunged into the pool, the lanes stretching out before me like an endless corridor. I pushed off the wall and began to swim, trying to focus on the rhythm of my strokes, but my mind was a mountain of anxieties.

Each lap felt like an escape from the tight grip of my past, but it was also a reminder of the constant weight I carried. I could hear my mother's disapproving voice echoing in my head, criticizing me for every bite I took, every ounce I gained. The sound of her controlling words, her concern over my weight, was still so vivid, it almost made the water feel thicker.

Then there was Michael, whose touch had left scars deeper than the bruises. The fear he instilled in me was a shadow that never quite left. I remembered the way his anger would seep into every corner of our home, the way his hands would crush any semblance of peace.

And now, in this new city, I was trying to push those memories away, yet they lingered, making every breath feel heavy. The swim team was supposed to be a fresh start, a place where I could leave behind the bullies from my old school, but I found it hard to shake the worry that followed me.

I swam harder, my strokes more urgent, trying to outrun the ghosts of my previous life. I didn't want to be the girl who was defined by her father's cruelty or her mother's controlling ways. I wanted to be strong, to be someone who could glide effortlessly through the water and leave all those fears behind.

I turned to push off the wall again, and tried to focus on the rhythm of my breathing, on the glide of my strokes, but the fears still lingered, pressing on my chest like a weight that wouldn't let go.

"Okay, great work today," Coach Robinson said, clapping her hands together. I pulled myself out of the water, standing and reached for my towel. "Alina, good work. You too,

I changed out of my swimsuit and into my clothes, a pair of grey leggings and long sleeved shirt with the saying "If my book is open, your mouth should be closed" on it, curtesy of Soren. I flinched as I pulled it on, though the wounds on my stomach hurt less today than yesterday.

I walked out of the locker room, finding Christian talking to Coach Robinson. One of the stipulations Angelo had in order for me to swim was have him sit in on meets and practices.

"You swim like a fucking fish," Elias De Angelis said, the De Angelis twin with dark curls. His brother, Xander De Angelis leaned against the wall with him, scrolling on his phone. He looked up, his hazel eyes softening as he tucked his phone into his jeans pocket.

"With you, we'll win states for sure."

"Thanks. You're in my EnglishLit class right?"

He nodded. "Mr. Areos is kinda an ass, isn't he?"

I chuckled, happy someone else had the same thoughts. "Definitely," I said and watched his lips curve into a smile. I glanced back at Christian to see him staring back. "I should go, I'll see you guys tomorrow?"

"Yeah, for sure," Elias said, grinning.

"We're having a party at our house this Saturday. You should come. And bring your friends," Xander offered. "Elias has a crush on Zoe."

His twin smacked him in the ribs. "I do not," he hissed but by his reddened cheeks, I'd say he did.

I snickered. "I'll think about it. And don't worry, your secret is safe with me." Elias pulled Xander away, embarrassed. I walked to Christian, waving to Coach Robinson.

"How are you feeling?" Christian asked, taking my backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. We walked out of the pool area and into the main hallway.

"Good, actually." I had been seizure free for two days. "Are we still training today?"

"Yeah. I heard you started running in the morning with Soren. That'll be good, build up your stamina," he said, glancing sideways. "But make sure you don't over do it, okay?"

I nodded, though I liked having a ton of exercise. It helped me stay in shape. It helped me stay focused, the pain of pushing too hard an incredible escape from my thoughts and emotions.

+++
Thank you so much for reading.
Thoughts on this chapter?
Sorry it's been so long since I updated.
More Killian and Soren next and Enzo and Alina meet for the first time 😬😂
- Charlie 🧡