MELT DOWN

I cried the whole way home.

In the back of the taxi, with my forehead pressed against the window, I let the tears fall freely. The driver didn’t say a word. Good. Because if he asked me if I was okay, I would've screamed at him.

By the time I got home, my head was pounding and my chest felt like it had been carved open.

I barely got my shoes off before I stormed into my room and slammed the door shut behind me.

Then I snapped.

I threw my handbag across the room. The bottle of appetite suppressants followed next—tiny white pills flying out as the cap burst open.

I knocked over the stupid stack of “slimming teas” on my vanity.

Then the tight shapewear was next.

I pulled them out of my closet and flung them onto the floor, took my scissors and started cutting them to shreds.

And then, I saw myself in the mirror.

Standing there, barefoot, eyes red and puffed, hair frizzed.

I looked like a psychopath.

“I hate you,” I whispered, barely recognizing my voice. “I hate you.”

I stepped closer to the mirror, pointing at it.

“You’re embarrassing. You think you can be an actress? Look at you! Do you think anyone wants to see you on screen? You want to play a romance role. To feel that love even if it's scripted. Joker.”

My fingers trembled as I wiped tears from my cheeks.

“Even your own mother doesn’t want you. She hates you. How were you even conceived?! Eating pills for breakfast, sucking in your stomach to please people who’ll never accept you. You’re a damn joke.”

I glared at the sketch I made as a child and tore it off the wall.

“You LIED to me!” I screamed, my voice hoarse and cracking. “You told me I’d be beautiful! That… I… that… I can achieve my dream, that I… deserved love. That appearance doesn't matter but one's heart and character.”

I pressed my trembling lips, then turned angrily

to my reflection in the mirror again.

“You will never be as beautiful as your mother and sisters! And guess what, honey? You will never be a successful actress!”

I collapsed onto the bed, grabbed a pillow, and punched it with all the force I had.

“I hate this life!”

Another punch.

“I hate this body!”

I screamed into the pillow until my throat burned.

Tears poured down again. I couldn’t tell if I was crying from anger, grief, or just plain exhaustion.

I went silent after a few minutes. I took my phone and ordered food. A lot of it.

Spicy wings. Pork dumplings. Fried rice. Cheesecake. Pizza. Burgers.

What's the need to diet anymore?

I should just accept myself.

The delivery arrived faster than I expected.

I didn’t even wait for the delivery guy to be fully down the hallway before I ripped open the bags and shoved the food into my mouth.

One bite after another, I didn’t care if I was full or sick. I just wanted to feel something other than this ache in my chest.

I kept eating.

Even when my stomach begged me to stop.

Even when my throat burned and my hands shook. I just kept shoving bite after bite into my mouth—like I could drown the pain in food.

My room was a warzone. Torn shapewear, food wrappers, pills, clothes scattered everywhere.

I barely noticed the time until I heard laughter from downstairs, the front door opened, high heels were clicking on the hardwood floor.

The twins are back… my younger sisters.

I know what’s next that will follow. I didn't make dinner.

So I expected them to be at my door in a few minutes, to check on me.

Well, not because they care to know why, but why I didn't make anything for them to eat.

“No food?!”

I heard one snap.

I glanced at my door. It was unlocked. I wanted to go and lock it to avoid their drama, but my body feels so heavy.

I decided to sit back and continue eating anyway.

Just then the door creaked open. For a first-timer,

you would think you just witnessed two identical Barbie dolls come to life.

My half-sisters are that beautiful. Their natural blonde hair and blue eyes—something—and their Asian features made them stand out.

“Oh my God…”

Chloe snapped.

“What the hell happened here?”

Zoey added.

They stepped inside, their faces frozen with shock.

“Charlotte, have you lost it?”

“Just… leave me alone,” I said, stuffing my mouth with food.

“What is this?” Zoey snapped, stepping over a pair of torn waist trainers. “Are you okay? Seriously, this is insane.”

“I said get out.”

“I knew you were never really dieting. Look at that junk food. You are already big, you want to blow?”

“I SAID GET OUT!” I roared and forced myself up.

I walked to them and started shoving them toward the door angrily.

They gasped, stumbled, and looked at me like I was unhinged.

“You’re so damn rude! This is unlike you! Take Zoloft or something. We were just worried!”

Zoey shouted back.

“Yeah, well don’t be,” I snapped, slamming the door in their faces.

I locked it, slid down against it, and hugged my knees, crying.

Furious knocks came on the door.

“You are being so rude and childish, Charlotte!”

“What about our food? Charlotte!”