Her Arrival

CHAPTER 23| Eating habits.

TW - mention of EDs

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I slump back onto my bed.

Okay.. a lot has happened over the few days..

In 3 days, they've been aware of how imperfect and ruined I am, but still yet, they seem to really not give a shit. As if it never happened.

And it's really, really worrying.

No, I don't mean to be an attention seeker, what I mean is, it's not everyday you find your long-lost sister who was kidnapped, in London, you're super rich and you find out she's been abused for basically half her life. How normal, right?

That's literally an accurate impression of them and what's going on.

I thought they'd avoid me, give me looks of disgust or keep asking me about it, reassuring me it's okay.

But no, they're acting like its all good, though it's far from that.

And their chill reaction is putting me off.

Honestly, they're probably plotting some shit against me.

Oh my God, what if the flour on my face is actually a drug that's slowly killing me?

I quickly shoot up, some flour making its way in my mouth.

Coughing, I somehow make my way to my bathroom.

I splash my face with water multiple times, effectively getting the flour off.

I stare at my reflection, like every time I come in here.

But this time, I don't frown.

Cause I'm learning to accept what happened to me, and that it wasn't my fault.

I'm unusually skinny, dark eyebags practically imprinted under my eyes and cuts on my stomach and arms.

Even though mostly all of my bruises have healed, it doesn't mean I've healed.

Just because my brothers now know of my mental and physical state, doesn't mean that I'm perfectly fine, and it also doesn't mean I'll just forget about everything that went down.

My childhood, innocence, education,

Parents. And time, time with my mother and father I'll never get back.

Trauma doesn't just disappear like that, and I can put on a happy façade for as long as I want, people may believe it if they want to or not. It doesn't mean that I am happy.