𝙾𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

I write onto the mock exam paper, taken from a previous year. Then my mind stalls.

What have you eaten so far today?...

I begin listing off the foods.

On track so far.

"Do you want a stir-fry tonight?" I hear Mum call from the kitchen, her tone light.

"No, thank you," I call back.

There's an infinite amount of calories in that oily dish. And too many vegetables to count.

"What are you going to have instead?" Mum asks.

You can more easily control the calories with toast.

"Toast," I reply.

Mum's footsteps become progressively faster and more purposeful. She's coming down the hallway and all I can do is stare at my door. Brace myself. Mum swings it open and grabs my wrist, hauling me from my chair. She drags me back up the hallway, her fingers suffocating the blood supply to my hand.

I wasn't thinking.

Stir-fry was definitely a question Mum wanted a yes answer to.

Mum rips open the kitchen cutlery draw, picks up the butcher's knife. She slams it into my hand, screaming, "WHY DON'T YOU KILL YOURSELF NOW?!"

I immediately stiffen, my knees bending to prepare for a hit. I'm staring at the knife held inward at my heart. I've gripped the handle too, trying to hold it from me.

"YOU'RE EATING NOTHING, EDEN!" Mum screams as she tries to take the knife back.

But I have gripped the handle hard, holding it frozen.

Mum takes her second hand. Grips the blade. Pulls.

I stand at the foot of the kitchen, watching blood spurt from her hand like a park fountain. Now I'm frozen. She's intoxicated with screaming.

Babbling, crying.

Huddled over the kitchen sink with a washcloth pressed against the wound, the colour red rapidly spreading over the cloth. Mum's calling out that she needs to go to the hospital. She runs past me.

But pauses at the door. "I never want to see you again!" Her final scream.

At times like these, I wish I were perfect.