Trapped (Bullied Book 4) (Bullied Series) by Vera Hollins (romance novel chinese novels .TXT) 📕

I thought it had something to do with my oversized dress, but I was wrong. It all had to do with my weight.”

“What did they say?”

I sharply sucked in a breath, my eyes still closed. This memory never failed to bring back the humiliation and fear I felt that time.

“They called me a pig. Hippo. Fat. Fatty.” My long nails were pressed hard into my palms, but the pain was good. Pain kept me rooted to the present.

Susan’s face was sympathetic as she waited patiently for me to continue.

“They said I would surely sound like a squealing pig when I opened my mouth.” It’s in the past. Remember, it’s just a memory. “So when I started to sing…nothing came out. I tried and I tried, and the only thing that came out was a high-pitched sound that couldn’t even be called singing.”

“And then?”

I glanced at the golden pencil she held in her hand. I’d found out the first time I saw her that that golden pencil also helped me stay in the present. So I stared at it, transfixed.

“And then they started booing and laughing. Even some of the classmates I considered friends laughed or pointed fingers at me. It was terrible. They said I didn’t know how to sing. They said I should never sing. They said I was too fat for the stage.” I buried my face in my hands. “It was cruel and vicious.”

“How did you feel in that moment?”

“Shocked. Then ashamed. I was so ashamed I couldn’t stay on that stage anymore. I couldn’t sing. So I rushed away and swore to never go on a stage again. I never tried singing in public after that.”

“And that is how your weight and singing insecurities started.” I nodded. “Did you consider yourself overweight before that incident?”

I wiggled my lips back and forth. “Hmm, maybe. I don’t know. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I mean, I didn’t pay that much attention to my weight. I kinda knew I was fat, but it didn’t bother me. I was a kid, and I couldn’t have cared less about the way I looked. But it all changed after that day, and I started thinking about dieting and calories.” I snorted. “Up until then I didn’t even know what calories were, but all of a sudden, I was all about calories, the number on the scale, and the size of my clothes.”

“What did you do to lose weight?”

I shrugged. “Nothing special. I used to diet from time to time, like trying out some popular diets I could find on the internet, but I would usually get bored of them after a few days and start eating normally. I also tried exercising a couple of times. I never actually lost any weight, and for a while I just tried to learn to live with it. Like: oh okay, I’m fat—well, it’s not like it’s going to change any time soon, right? I just have to live with it.” I let out a chuckle.

“What led you to make yourself vomit?”

A faint blush covered my cheeks as I inspected my hangnails. “My back-then crush, who never even noticed me, made fun of me with his friend in eighth grade. His friend loved to taunt me about my weight, but one day he joined in too and…and it was horrible.

“He said no boy would ever be interested in someone as fat as me, which hit a nerve, because I was always invisible to boys. All my friends had boys crushing on them or were dating someone. I had nothing. That night I thought if I couldn’t be slimmer by dieting, maybe I could make myself throw up. That…that was the first time.”

“So you threw up because of what your old crush said?”

“Yes.”

“How did you feel afterward?”

“Relieved. I felt I had control. It was nice for a change, but then I felt guilt and fear because I remembered my mom, who had had an eating disorder. I was afraid I would end up like her if I kept throwing up. She also caught me that time, which was totally humiliating. So, yeah.”

“And did you keep vomiting?”

“From time to time. Maybe like once or twice a year. I don’t know. I went to therapy then, but I wasn’t fully convinced I had a problem.”

“I see. And what brought about those moments?”

“At that point I was in a relationship, and while it gave me a confidence boost in the beginning, I kind of always felt that Rory could find someone better. One time, we went bowling with friends, and everyone ate just a sandwich or a couple of snacks, but I overdid it and ate my weight in food.”

I watched her golden pencil move as she scribbled, remembering the embarrassment too well.

“I came home, locked myself in the bathroom, and made myself puke.”

“And now? Do you feel compelled to do it?”

“Compelled? Not really. It’s like it’s an isolated incident. Sometimes, just sometimes, I think about it, but I don’t feel the need to do it. I do it when things become too hard and I feel cornered, and it’s like a way for me to let all those negative feelings flow away.”

“What made you do it this week?”

I grimaced and told her what Blake had done in the basement, and then about the pressure I’d felt when I got home.

“Did it provide any relief?”

“Only for a bit.”

“Do you think that relief was worth it?”

I tucked my hair behind my ears and dropped my gaze. I was fully comfortable around Susan, who had been my therapist since I’d arrived in Enfield six months earlier, but it wasn’t easy to open up about my tendency at all times.

“In that moment, yes. But then I felt disappointed in myself because I’d promised myself and my parents I wouldn’t do it anymore. So, no. The relief was not worth it.”

“Considering how you feel about it, on a scale of one to ten, how likely would it be for you to do