I Don't Want This

• Rebecca Steful, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2008

I sat on her bedroom floor, panic filled and struggling to breathe. Tears streamed freely down my face as I tried in vain to stay sitting. It all became too much and I fell forward, still struggling for air. I slowly started to internally self destructed as my disorder ate away at my mind, my body and my perception. I don’t want this.

My body is fat and horrible. My hair and nails are a mess, not mentioning my face. I can hardly concentrate anymore. I can’t get help. No one will want to look at me, let alone help me. I don’t want this.

Why do people ask if I'm alright? When I'm clearly not. Why can’t they just leave me alone? I just want to be alone. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want them to listen. I don’t care if they’re there or not. I don’t want this.

If I concentrate on my schoolwork then maybe it’ll all go away. God knows I need to. If I fail school, I can’t get a job. Then I don’t know where I would be. Why can’t I just be like Bec? She gets school. She’s pretty. She’s skinny. She’s not like me. She doesn’t have my horrible body. I don’t want this body. I don’t want this.

Oh no. Home. I don’t want to go home. Mum asks questions and yells a lot. I don’t like being yelled at. I don’t like questions either. Have to keep my mouth shut. If I start to talk I won’t stop. Have to be quiet. I don’t want to. I don’t want this.

‘Louise.’ Bec’s here. My pretty and beautiful Bec. My best friend Bec. My Bec who wants me to get better. I promise I will. I promise I will get better. I promise I’ll talk. I promise. I don’t want this.

‘Louise, please don’t apologise. There is nothing to be sorry for. I know you didn’t mean it.’ I'm a mess. I'm a mess and she still comes to see me. I have to get better. I have to get better for her. I have to. I don’t want this.

‘Lou I know, I know you’re upset. But I'm here, okay sweetie. I'm here if you need me. Whenever you need me.’ It’s hard. I don’t want to be around you. I’m not better yet. Please go away. I'm trying. I really am. But I just want to be alone at the moment. It means a lot that you’re here, but I can’t be right now. I don’t want this.

‘Lou. Oh honey.’ Bec. I love your hugs. I get strength from your hugs. You give me strength. You’re here. You care enough to help. It means a lot. You’ve no idea how much.

‘I love you. I’m sorry. I really don’t want this. I want to be better.’ I told her. I said it. I do want to be better. I don’t want this. All thanks to Bec.