THINNER
by
Antigone
Chapter 20
The Chapters
Joe
was about to lock the doors when he heard the doorbell rang and, relieved
that his brother would be permanently distracted, left the locks alone.
Not eating was one thing: although lying came with it, it was something
that was still in the open, up for scrutiny. He didn’t like feeling
this way, like he had something to hide, like he had to block out his
family to keep them from hearing.
His
brother had made him nervous, not just in the way he’d watched him eat,
but in questioning the toilets. Joe had thought it best not to use the
same one, and been alternating between the downstairs and the upstairs,
but this isn’t what bothered him: it was the way Frank had said it, the
scrutiny of it, as if he was watching for a reaction, as if he were
interrogating him, interrogating him,
Joe, his own brother! What, Frank needed a mystery, couldn’t bear it
without one, needed one so much he was willing to build one around his
brother?
Don’t
think such things, not about Frank, not about him. About yourself, you’re
the evil one, you’re the
one who’s wrong, you’re wrong just for thinking something like that
about your own brother.
Joe
shivered, knelt on the floor, lifted the toilet lid, steadied himself. He
pulled the bottle from his pocket, the small brown vial he’d carried
with him to school in order to vomit after lunch. He’d only used it
once, two nights ago after dinner, and the intensity of the vomiting had
frightened him, so he had refrained from using it. But he might as well
now: he was alone, his brother was distracted, his parents were gone. If
it would help him vomit, help him purge more, than it had to be done.
Joe
opened the bottle and took a gulp, waited: nothing. He tried some more,
swallowing it quickly, holding his nose to avoid the taste. Still
nothing.
Something
needs to happen and fast the food is digesting you better get it out of
you before the calories get in hurry up stick your fingers down if it’s
not going to work for you hurry up what are you thinking why can’t you
do anything right see you loser you hopeless loser—
The
bottle fell from Joe’s hand. He barely made it to the toilet before the
vomit exploded from his throat, ripping up from his stomach and pouring
in to the toilet. The soup came up, whole pieces of chicken and carrots.
Then the diet soda. Then the lettuce.
Then
the blood.
Joe
could not even catch his breath. Vomit after vomit ripped his frame, and
the blood kept coming up darker and darker. Tears streamed from the
corner of his eyes. He could not even scream for help.
I
didn’t want this I never wanted to do this I didn’t know this
would happen God help me someone anyone please help me…
And
then Joe’s world went black.
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The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.