After a rather eventful day of school, I gratefully welcomed the tranquility of my abode. The carpet that flattened under my bare feet once I removed my shoes was a gentle reminder of what awaited me. Even if my birthday has been unpleasant so far, minus Abigail and Sophie's treatment of course, the day isn't over yet.

Though I knew that I would have to speak with them about my predicament soon, I didn't want to ruin the special day with bad news. I shut my eyes, balling my hand into a fist. I wasn't going to give up yet. I swore that I would find out what was happening to me, and whether or not it was dangerous.

Only the guest room above was splashed with fluorescent light as I searched the perimeter. Given the time of day, I wasn't expecting either of them to be home from work yet. I briefly wondered if they had stayed home because of my birthday. No, that didn't seem right. Maybe one of them was released from work early?

Regardless of my suspicions, my feet were taking me up the steps to the dim source of light. As the distance from the door lessened with every step, I started to hear muffled voices. Were they here? As unbelievable as it sounded, a glimmer of hope sparked from within. It was rare for them to be home at the same time since their working schedules were normally always parallel; only on some days of the month did they intersect. Even so we were still a close family, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

I tried my best to not step on the wood that would give out an agonizing creak under my feet. Luckily, I remembered the basic pattern of the top floor, so I maneuvered my way to the closed door to surprise them. Yet when I listened to the tone of their voices, they didn't sound happy at all.

"Why didn't you tell me something like this?" I heard Dad's voice yell in a tone that I had never heard before. Were they arguing? That's rare, my young self thought.

"I wanted to let her come to us; to see if what the teacher said was right."

"So... you were just going to let this slide?" He sounded confused―baffled, even. What were they talking about?

"No! David, I'm only doing this for her protection―we can't ignore something like this!" Mom retorted with a voice that thundered in the hallways.

"But what if she's wrong? Ziva's a smart girl―there's no way that she could..."

Before he could finish the sentence, I had already wrapped my hand around the doorknob. With a gust of courage I twisted it, opening the door. I couldn't stand hiding when they were speaking of me. They both immediately froze with wide eyes.

"Z-Ziv... what're you doing here so late?" Mom asked, stiffly pushing her white hair behind her ear as Father looked away.

"Well, I just got home from school? I accidentally fell asleep in the garden," I said while laughing nervously. I was guilty of eavesdropping, evident from my face that was dusted by warmth.

"I guess this is perfect timing, then. Ziv, come here. We have something that we need to discuss with you." A hard, concentrated expression overcasted his normally easy-going features. I fidgeted under their gaze for a moment before walking inside of the room.

They looked between each other, making silent frustrated gestures before Dad cleared his throat. I sighed and sat up, suddenly uncomfortable from the rising tension.

"A teacher called earlier," he mentioned nonchalantly. He left his sentence hanging in the air, hoping that his love could take it and mold it into something better. By the looks on their faces, I could tell that it was about my grades. Looks like I would have to tell them a little earlier than I planned.

Mom spoke next. "She said your academic average is dropping, so the school wants to have a conference with us to determine what the problem concerning your grades is."

"My... my grades?" They were considerably low by then, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before I had to bring the truth to light. I glanced at the both of them before sighing.

"Yes. She said that you're close to failing. We don't understand. Is there something we did wrong? Are you being bullied?" She looked at Dad with evident worry and whispered, "Is this the rebellious stage I've heard so much about? But she's such a good kid... I could never imagine why she would suddenly change like this."

He sighed. "Mel, she's not a delinquent for God's sake. There's obviously a logical reason behind her recent actions." Dad then turned to me, wiping away the stray hair that clung to his glistening forehead. "Well Ziv? What's going on? You normally aren't like this."

I avoided their expectant stares by shifting my eyes towards anything that could distract me. The room was filled with vintage furniture and lavish carpeting, as both of my parents were avid scavengers for antique sales at the local markets. My mind played a forgotten song, further distancing my thoughts from the current situation.

"Ziva!" With a tremble, I was ripped from my brief trance by Mom's booming voice. It was then that I thought of the last time I was scolded by them; when I had stolen a slice of velvet cake from the fridge at the age of twelve. This was certainly deja vu, as I hadn't been lectured to such an extent since then.

For a few moments I clung to the deafening silence until my voice betrayed me, muttering the words that I had been longing to release. "Alright, I'll tell you. But you have to promise me that you'll believe me no matter how blasphemous I may sound. Please." The direness of my situation was beginning to sink in. There was only a matter of time before the secrets that were building up inside of me crumbled to the ground. I internally pleaded that they would understand as they nodded with uncertainty. For if my parents wouldn't believe me, then who else would?

I stood up and brushed my sweater for any invisible dust. "You have to promise."

Father chuckled. "I promise." He probably thinks I'm joking. He smiled, looking at Mom. "You do it too."

She looked at us like we were insane. "She's failing! I can't think of anything that could justify her―"

I clasped my hands together, folding them in an attempt to stop them from shaking. "Mom! Please, I swear I'll tell you everything if you would just calm down and listen."

After glaring at Dad with her mouth hung agape for what felt like a millennium, she finally gave in and dragged him to the guest bed. Once they were sitting at the end, she crossed her legs and sighed in defeat. "Explain."

I gulped and tugged at my collar. Where to start? "Um... this has been going on for a while now, and I don't know if there's a way to get around it. But, I um..." I took a deep breath. Their unnerving stares were making me uncomfortable. I kept fidgeting in my seat, afraid of being ridiculed. This will probably sound like complete nonsense, but I still need to try. So I straightened my posture, setting my lavender eyes on my mother's similarly shaded ones before speaking. "I've been e-eating words for the past two months."

Her eyes bulged and her cheeks faded to a rosy pink as what I said began to set in. She was fuming; I could tell by the way her lips formed a tight smile. But she refused to speak, instead letting me brood in my own thoughts.

There was silence until Dad suddenly laughed without restraint. I was bewildered by the action, almost jumping from the chair at the sound. "Have you been reading too many fantasy books again? I think it's starting to get to your head," he said amusingly. "There's no way that you can physically eat words unless you're eating... you haven't started eating paper, have you?"

By now my face was burning with embarrassment. He swore that he would believe me and yet laughed the moment I gave an explanation. Though, I should've expected that reaction. After all, this seemed outrageous to anyone else.

I shook my head rapidly. "No! I'm serious, that's why my grades have been dropping. I'm not doing it on purpose; I literally can't write." Or at least, it can't be seen. He said nothing after that, only watching me with amused eyes.

"Ziv, we asked for a reason, not a fairy tale." Clearing her throat, Mom had cut through the dead silence with her sharp tone. "That's enough. Tell us the truth or we may need to punish you."

I tried to hold back my oncoming tears by widened my eyes. "So neither of you believe me even though you swore you would?"

"It's not that Sweetie," Father beckoned with a hint of a smile, "It's just that your story―"

"It's not a story! It's the truth. I've been hiding it from everyone because I didn't want to burden people with my problems. I haven't been able to digest food for the past two months! It's come to the point where I can't bottle it up anymore." My fists stayed clenched at my sides.

"Do you know how sickening it feels to watch your once perfect grades plummet because of some 'gift' that you didn't even want?! It's... it's horrible. But the moment I finally let my feelings out for the first time, neither of you believe me." I gathered a lot of courage to reveal this to them. I could've lied and said that I wasn't feeling well, but I didn't. I never lied. At least, not until this started. It was as if I was turning into a different person day by day. I didn't like it.

"Well of course Ziv. It's scientifically impossible to eat words. Although, I have noticed that you take more trips to the bathroom than you used to..." Dad trailed off, looking away. "I figured it was your time of month."

"I can assure you that that's not the problem. I successfully finished menstruating two weeks ago," I muttered, glancing downwards. "That's just because the food that I used to eat isn't working right... the only things I can eat now are my words. It's weird, I know. But―"

Mother raised her hand to halt my rambles. "Normally, I would always believe you because you're an exceptionally smart and sincere girl. But this... this is too much, even for you. You just turned fourteen, yet you still want to waste our time with nonsense?" She looked at my crying face with disappointment before standing and pointing to the door. "Get out. Come back when you've grown up."

I took a faltering step back. What...?

Dad then bolted up, placing his hands on her shoulders with caution. "Melia, that's too far."

"No, David. She needs to stop playing around."

By then I couldn't bare to listen any longer, instead opting to wallow in guilt. If only I hadn't been cursed, then I wouldn't have disappointed my parents. Of course they won't believe me. It's not like I have any other valid reason for failing though. Still, it hurts to see the people that I rely on the most simply brush off my worries.

Ignoring their bickering, I began to sink to the floor with any hope that I had before crumbling down with me. My legs had gone numb; I could feel them tingling as fresh blood began to pump through my veins.

"I'm not lying," I muttered as I stared at the steadily blurring carpet. Yet my words weren't spoken when my lips moved. The sounds generating from my throat were hoarse and uneven, making it impossible to be heard over their heated conversation. I guess I was wrong to think that my own parents would accept my answer. What's the point of eating words if no one listens to them?

I just wanted to pretend this never happened. I longed for the simplicity of my life from before when there were no arguments, no failures and no confusion. However, I had to move forward. I couldn't stay in the past any longer. This was the day I would finally acknowledge my 'gift,' as well as the burdens that came with it. A sudden warmth ignited from within. I wiped my tears away frantically before standing. I'm not going to run away anymore.

I breathed deeply in order to calm my racing heart and rested my eyes on them as they continued to argue. Taking a step forward, I spoke with intestinal fortitude. They eventually noticed, aiming their attention on me. "What if I gave you proof? Then you would believe me right?" I would have rather been punished for telling the truth than fail school for living a lie. "All I have to do is write on a slip of paper and show you what will happen, since neither of you will take what I say seriously unless I have evidence."

Dad winced at my words when he nodded. "That's fine, then."

I looked at Mom through the corner of my eye. She watched us with confusion, probably unable to process the strangeness of my proposal. Her shoulders were trembling in what I assumed to be anger. I was worried that she wouldn't bother to let me redeem myself, but was proven wrong when she stiffly nodded after exhaling. "Alright."

My ears perked at her words, and I immediately ran off to get some paper and a pen from my room. With my feet sliding across the wooden floor, I bursted into the room with a loud 'thud.' I scanned for my bag, almost jumping when my eyes landed on it. After quickly flipping it open, I ripped out the first notebook I spotted.

While doing so however, I had managed to bring out the assorted chocolates and macarons given to me that day. I paused momentarily, knowing that I wouldn't be able to fully enjoy the sweets that at one point made my mouth water. Pushing the thought away, I gathered what I needed and hurried back to the guest room. My parents were still there, waiting to see what I had to show.

I headed towards the nearest table and flipped through the notebook until I found a blank page. "Here," I motioned, offering my pen to them while gripping the book with my other hand, "Can one of you write something here first? Anything is fine."

Dad stepped forward and took the pen before reaching for the notebook. He looked between me and pen, then scribbled something down. Turning the book around, he held it up and smiled. I registered the word carefully. Chrysanthemum.

"Now I'm going to write it down right in front of you," I explained, "and you're going to tell me if you see it, okay?"

They nodded when I grabbed the pen and notebook. I turned at an angle where my hand was visible, writing slowly and harshly so that they could observe. The letters were large and spread apart, for I had no need to care for neatness at the time. Once I wrote the word, Dad pushed his spectacles up when Mom gasped.

"You can't be serious. Did the ink run out?" I handed him the pen, smiling bitterly when he shook it and wrote again. "Try it one more time."

"I can try it however many times you want. But it won't matter," I said, gazing as my handwriting separated from the paper. I pointed towards it, even though I knew they couldn't see it. "My words can't stay on paper anymore, so... I'm forced to eat them."

By then Mom was already crying, realizing the mistake she made. "Ziv, Ziv!" she whispered, as if speaking any louder would break me. She started to walk near me, but stopped when she noticed my shaking fingers gripping onto the book. Dad was still puzzled as to why my words wouldn't show; he continued to stare at the page stubbornly after I had wrote down the word again for him.

I stood back, watching them as my face moistened with tears. "Well," I started with a trembling voice, "do you believe me now?"

Their faces whipped up at my sudden question. A tense silence took over the room as both of them watched me with heated intensity. My throat was tightening up; it felt as if just looking into their eyes would suffocate me with worry. It was beginning to pain me to look any further, so I was forced to avert my gaze.

"Why... why didn't you tell us sooner?" Dad asked frustratedly. He roughly combed through his brown hair with his hand after throwing the book down. "We could've helped you. You've had to endure this thing by yourself for two months. I guess it's our fault for not noticing but," he paused and let out a ragged sigh, "don't you trust us?"

I froze at the thought. Was I ever planning to tell them? Was that how little I trusted my supposed family? If I would've revealed this earlier then we could've worked something out with the school beforehand. I was shocked at my own hesitance. Was there even a point in hiding it? Of course there was.

"I... I didn't want to tell you because I was scared." But even that reason sounded senseless as it escaped my lips. I made them worry; was I bad? "I didn't know how! I still don't know what's going on or how this happened no matter what I've done. I've been trying to find anything similar to what I have―I even told the doctor and she didn't know anything! Why would I want to worry you with my problems?!"

Mom's eyes widened after I spoke. Her hands had curled into trembling fists when she marched to me. "That's precisely when you should come to us!" She then squatted down and pulled me into an embrace. I stiffened at the action. Did I deserve her kindness?

"We're your parents; the two of us have been raising you so that you can grow to become great, but more so for you to be able to ask for help when you need it. There's no need to take whatever this is on your own."

As much as I wanted to argue against it, I knew deep down that she was right. I wiped my face clean of tears before wrapping my arms around her. "You're right; I'm... sorry for everything," I cried, tugging on her sweater while it absorbed my tears and snot. She said nothing, only caressing my back with the gentleness that only a mother could give.

Dad had walked up to us and squatted down as well. He held his chin up, challenging me to speak with a hint of a smile.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his lousy comedy. "S-Sorry," I muttered in an unfamiliar, hoarse voice.

"No prob Kiddo, just try not to do it again," he said before ruffling my hair. "We're sorry too, for not listening to you when we should've."

I was speechless. Anything I tried to say in response was drowned by the sudden wails that erupted from me. That was the one thing that I wanted to hear the most. Mother continued to gently stroke me until I drifted to sleep in her arms.