Hi Annies, sorry I haven't been here for a while, but there's been a lot going on.

So amazing, but I haven't eaten for two days – can you believe that?! I've just had a lot of diet coke. I drank so much of it yesterday I got the jitters. Does anyone else get that? I was a bit worried at one point because I thought I was going to faint.

My mum keeps trying to feed me – she brings stuff up to my room. I tell her I'll eat it in a while and I put in a bag under the bed. But because she thinks there's something wrong, I'm 'allowed' to not eat. It's brilliant. I've finally got an excuse for not eating and no-one is trying to make me.

But I'm not feeling great at all, I start to type, I'm worried about what I've done – I wish I could ask you for help Annies, I wish I could... I move the cursor over the text, paste it up and regret doing it immediately.

My stomach grumbles like mad, I get out of bed and I get dressed. I listen at the door and I can hear Mum talking on the phone in a hushed way. Good.

My emergency food bag has some stuff in it and I sneak into the living room to nab Tony's bottle of vodka which is in the cabinet. There's money in the bottom drawer too, and I grab that and make my way out of the house. The office will be deserted at this time of the night.

Perfect.

I'm a fat, useless horrible bitch and I deserve to...

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god – I just want the whole world to GO AWAY. I've locked myself in the office I do the cleaning in because it's quiet and peaceful and no-one I know comes here. I don't know what to do, I'm so scared...

But there is food, there is always food. I've been to the supermarket on the corner and I've got my food. I'm so mind-numbingly hungry as well because I haven't eaten for a couple of days. It was easy not to eat too, the thought of anything in my mouth or stomach was so disgusting because of all the thoughts whirling around in my head, I just didn't eat.

I feel floaty now, as if I'm not in my body at all, but I've got all my lovely, favourite foods here and I can hide away with them, hide away for a long, long time.

There's a big loaf of garlic bread (supposed to be cooked in the oven, but never mind I'll eat it anyway), and there's normal white bread too – I'll nick butter from the fridge here. I've got some Victoria sponge I stole from the Great British Baker, and sweets, lots and lots of fudge, caramels, chocolate, chocolate, chocolate...

And a bottle of vodka too that I nicked from Tony. I don't normally bother with alcohol - why waste those calories on liquid after all as the Annies always say, but I think I need to drink something and I can mix it up with diet coke so I don't taste it.

I lock the doors and I make my way to the office kitchen. As usual it's a bomb site. The lazy, filthy slags who work here haven't bothered to put any of their dishes or mugs into the dishwasher and there is spilt coffee and sugar all over the work surfaces along with – gross – used teabags.

I'm not tidying it today though.

I find the last clean plate left and I start cutting up garlic bread. A few seconds in the microwave and it is soft and goo-ey. I cram it into my mouth and then wander over to the fridge. Someone has left mayo in there and I dunk bits of the bread into the mayo.

The soft squidginess slides down my throat, but I'm shoving it in so fast, I need a drink to wash it down. I gulp vodka straight from the bottle, gag and then take a mouthful of diet coke to take the taste away. The coke will fill me up too quickly, though so I swap it for some orange juice I've found in the fridge. I don't care if they notice I've stolen their food and drink. I don't care at all.

After a while, it's easier just to sit down on the floor. I slide down the cupboard, gripping the vodka bottle. My stomach is a tight hard mass and my head feels fuzzy and wobbly, but I feel better. Everything will be OK, won't it? It doesn't matter what I've done. I'll never go back to school, I'll tell Mum I want to become a hairdresser or something like that, I'll talk to the police and explain and I'll... and Mr A'll...

Will what? I swig back some more vodka and the momentary lightness and happiness I felt floods back out of me and I start to cry. Nothing will ever be OK again. I'm crying so hard I'm almost choking as I keep drinking from the vodka bottle so I move on to the giant bar of chocolate, breaking off large chunks of it and cramming it into my mouth.

It's gone in seconds and I curse myself for not bringing another bar with me. I'll need to steal more food from the filthy sluts. The vodka's disappearing quickly too. I'm going to lie down for a little while just till my head stops spinning...