In the end, I was "awakened" by the smell of barbecue. I tried to swallow on instinct, but I realized I couldn't control my throat. Suddenly, I began to float.My vision passed through the ceiling, then slowly drifted back down. There it was, my crooked, unnaturally twisted body, lying face down on the living room floor.Next to my hand was a crumpled notebook, my book of sins, used to record my weight and calories. In my final moments, I had wanted to write a note, but fear held me back.Mom always said only weak people did things like that. So, I turned a fresh page and, with trembling hands, wrote down my last wish."Target weight: 0lbs. I didn't sneak food. I was good."After writing that, I died, exactly on New Year's Eve.The clock on the wall pointed to 1:00 am. The door opened, and cold air rushed in, mixed with laughter and cheerful voices."Dinner tonight was amazing!" Dad said."Totally worth a five-star hotel. Every bite was incredible," Abigail chirped, looping her
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