I rummage in the drawer and find the Comfort Bag. I line up two Mars Bars and three Twixes. I have to eat it all in five minutes, then throw it up again.
But my dad knocks on the door.
‘Catherine, can I come in?’
I stuff the chocolate back in the drawer. ‘Sure, Dad.’
He sits next to me on the bed. ‘You don’t have to do it.’
‘Do what?’
‘The... vomiting thing. What do you do – eat, then purge?’
I can’t look at him. ‘How did you know?’
‘I’ve been reading up on it – I heard you being sick a couple of times.’
He takes me to the mirror. ‘Look at yourself, love.’
I am hugely fat.
‘You’re beautiful, Catherine. Perfect.’ He holds me. ‘Shhh, my darling. Don’t cry. We’ll get through this together. It’s going to be all right.’

Want to comment on this Flash Fiction? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Flash Fiction and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...