"The Breakup Challenge" at The Sparkle Awards

Fairy Breezes

After a devastating break-up, Rosalie is determined to prove that she's worth something--but she's really just killing herself. What--or who--will save her? AH, One-shot for The Breakup Challenge.

Fairies flitter around my head, and I wonder where they came from. A pale faced woman appears behind me and whispers in my ear, "You're not worth it, you're not worth anything, you should just die," and the fairies turn to little devils, attacking me, clawing at my skin, ripping out my hair, and all I can do is scream...

I wake up, breathing hard.

Where the fuck did that come from? I think, and then I feel stupid for wondering. I know where it came from; I just don't want to face it.

The girl in the dream was her, the one that stole him away, the one who is better than me in every possible way. I was not good enough for him. She is.

I look up at my window and see that dawn is breaking outside. It is not too early for me to get up, thank God. I swing my legs out of bed and stand, carefully stretching out my muscles one by one, and pad over to the bathroom for a shower.

I turn the water on freezing cold and hop in, scrubbing my face vigorously to remove any dead skin. When I am finished, I get out and turn the temperature up. Before the mirror steams up, I look at myself.

I am disgusted. This body will never be perfect, will never be good enough. This body is never clean, never pure. I have been trying to cleanse it for six months, but nothing makes a difference. I stare until the mirror is completely fogged up, and then I get dressed.

In the kitchen, my mother is bustling around, making breakfast for my two younger brothers, one fourteen and one ten, who are sitting at the table, play-fighting. I ruffle their hair as I walk past and they squeak feeble protests.

Violet turns around, smiling, and greets me. "Did you sleep well, Rose?"

I nod and hover, watching her scramble delicious disgusting eggs (367). She dishes out equal portions for Teddy and Thomas and then reaches for another plate. I shake my head. "You know I get sick if I eat too much in the morning," I remind her.

She looks at me suspiciously, but I just smile innocently and she puts the plate back in the cupboard. "You're looking skinny," she tells me. "Promise you'll eat something later?"

"I promise," I say, just like I do every day.

"Will you drive Teddy home from school? I'm taking Tom to the dentist."

I nod, and Teddy looks oddly excited, an emotion that rarely crosses his apathetic teenager face.

Tom complains. "I don't want to go to the dentist!"

"Too bad," Violet says. "You have to."

Tom pouts and I leave the house with a blueberry muffin (259), which I promptly throw out the window when I make it out onto the highway toward school.

In the hallways at school, I see him. He's with her. Her perfect little body is crumpled in laughter; he smiles down at her and kisses her softly. I run to the bathroom.

There, I retch over a toilet, but there is nothing in my body to come out. I take what pride I can out of that and wash my hands before staring into the mirror.

She's short. I'm tall.

She's small. I'm big.

She's thin. I'm fat.

Brunette. Blonde.

Perfect. Less than.

Everything I've ever wanted to be. Everything I haven't.

Back in the hallways, people whisper as I walk by. 'What's her secret?'

They want to be me, bones encased in porcelain.

I want to disappear.

After school, I wait for Teddy in my BMW. He comes out ten minutes after the final bell, holding a bag of Doritos (140). They look so good They look revolting. He slides into the seat next to me and holds out the chip bag. "Want one?" he asks.

"No." I want the whole bag. I shift the car into gear and start to drive. Teddy pops a nacho into his mouth and stares at me intently while I drive, chewing slowly. I try not to breathe in the cheesy scent.

"I know what's wrong with you," Teddy says when we are halfway home. I involuntarily flinch away from the words.

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"Yeah, there is. Do I look stupid? You never eat, you're always exercising—you're starving yourself," he accuses.

"I am not," I retort feebly.

Teddy snorts. "It's about that guy, isn't it? Edward?"

I cringe at the sound of his name as we pull into the driveway and I stop the car, turning to Teddy. "Listen here, buddy boy, if you tell anyone about this, you're in serious shit. I will personally make sure your social reputation is in the toilet before you even get one."

Teddy doesn't look fazed. "As if." But his gaze softens. "I won't tell anyone as long as you promise me something."

"Anything," I reply without thinking.

He grins devilishly and hands me an ad cut out of the newspaper. "I want you to apply for this job."

I look at the little piece of paper suspiciously. It would be just like Teddy to volunteer me as someone's sex slave.

But the truth is much worse better than that.

Vanilla Lily Restaurant. Waitress needed. Call 585-555-2938 to apply.

I try to reason with myself that being surrounded by food is not hard. All it takes is will-power, and I have lots of that.

"I'll do it," I say. Teddy nods, satisfied, and runs into the house to play video games or whatever he does. I sit in the car a while longer before flipping out my cell phone and dialling the number.

"Vanilla Lily Restaurant," a man's voice answers.

"Hi," I say. "I'm Rosalie Hale. I'd like to apply for the waitressing job?"

"Oh good. How soon can you come in?" he asks.

I don't say anything for a moment, and then burst out, "Now."

"That would be great, actually. Just ask for Emmett. Jacob, wash the dishes faster, for God's sake!" he yells at the background noise.

"Okay."

"Thank you so much," he says, and then hangs up.

I consult the ad for a street address, but don't find one. Panicking slightly, I try to find it on my cell's GPS. It doesn't come up. I have no choice but to call the restaurant again. The same man answers.

"Hi, Emmett, this is Rosalie again. I was wondering if you could give me the street address."

He does, and I am on my way, guided by the GPS, programmed to lead me to where I need to be.

I step into the restaurant and am hit with the smell of greasy pizza and French fries. My stomach turns—whether in disgust or hunger I don't know. I choose disgust.

A burly man with curly dark hair comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag. I walk over to him and ask to speak to Emmett. He laughs. "I'm Emmett," he tells me, sticking out a hand. "You Rosalie?"

I take his hand, nodding. My hand disappears inside of his and I am afraid he'll crush it, but he doesn't. We shake and drop. I hide my hands behind my back.

I discover that waitressing is harder than it looks. Lots of walking, balancing, socializing, remembering. I don't mind staying on my feet—Teddy didn't know what he was doing when he told me to take this job. All it can do is make me stronger, physically and mentally.

Emmett takes me out during the dinner rush, introducing me as his trainee and quizzing me on what people ordered when we get back to the kitchen. I add up calories in my head and remember that way. He is impressed, I can tell.

I am impressed by him. He talks to everyone for a minute or two, joking and laughing, managing to leave a smile on everyone's faces. He carries himself with such confidence and laughs my mistakes off, saying that I'll get it after a while. I hope I will.

At seven, after I successfully carry out four plates at once, he stops and smiles at me.

"You're hired," he says cheerfully. "Can you work every day right after you're done school until eight, nine?

I nod and we talk money. I don't want much; he wants to give me a lot. Finally he says, "Look, you obviously need the money. Just let me pay you."

"I don't need money," I tell him honestly.

He eyes my stomach in disbelief and I realize that he thinks I don't have enough to eat. My fear is confirmed when he says, "Can I pay you in food then?"

"No!" I protest sharply. Paying me in food means I need to sit there and eat it in front of him.

He looks taken aback. "Fine," he relents.

"Thank you," I breathe out in a sigh of relief. He is not happy and I feel slightly guilty as I wave goodbye and head out to my car.

When I get home, Violet and Harvey are sitting on the couch in the living room, the TV off. They both look directly at me when I walk in.

"Where were you?" Harvey asks, making to stand up. I wince at his tone.

"I got a job," I tell them. "At a restaurant."

"You missed dinner," Violet points out.

"I ate at the restaurant."

"What'd you eat?" Harvey inquires.

I scowl. "A slice of pepperoni pizza." It's obvious they don't trust me, but I can tell what I'm saying is convincing them. Harvey sits back down with a sigh, picking up the remote control.

"Go to bed," he says, flicking on the TV.

"Yes, sir," I mumble, much too quiet for either of them to realize I even said anything. I march up to my room like a good little soldier, changing into my pyjama shorts and tank top and taking out my jump rope and iPod. I stick the iPod earphones in my ears, turn it to an energetic song, and start to jump. My body makes barely any noise as it hits the ground, and I feel as light as a feather, floating on a breeze. I feel as though I'm worth something for those few moments before I collapse into bed and dreams of things I can't reach through the mist, and a voice, her voice, whispering in my ears, You're nothing, you're worthless, you don't mean anything to anyone... just disappear, become smoke on water, wind whispering through tall grasses... disappear...

The next morning I awaken to Tom throwing himself on top of me.

"You're gonna be late!" he sings, bouncing on the bed next to me. I look at the alarm clock—ten to eight. I groan and drag myself out of bed and to the bathroom. No time for a shower, but I strip and drag the digital scale out from behind the toilet. I take a deep breath, step on, and close my eyes.

When I open them, the number is set. 113 pounds.

Translation: too much.

I step off the scale and vow to eat nothing. I will stay clean and pure on the inside and hope that it affects the outside.

I know it's useless It will work.

I take my multivitamins and chew on my chocolate flavoured calcium supplement as I run down the stairs, fully dressed and ready to go out the door. I almost make it when Violet calls me back in. I stop in my tracks, turn around, and march to face today's thorns.

"Take an orange," she tells me. "Or this breakfast bar."

I shake my head. "I have to get going."

"There's no reason you can't eat while you drive," she probes.

Why you're completely right, Mom, I want that orange (69), I want that granola bar (190), I want to shove them down my throat along with some of Tom's sugary cereal and-- "I don't want to eat in the morning."

In the end I leave the house six minutes later than I had to, the orange's juices sloshing in my stomach and rice cake (35) in my hand. The rice cake gets tossed on the highway.

Total calorie intake = 69.

I am grateful at lunch that I do not have a requirement to sit in the cafeteria with my friends. I have no friends; I scare people too much without him.

He's sitting alone today, reading a book in the corner, a crystalline ice cage around him, and I wonder where she is.

I head straight to Vanilla Lily after school, where Emmett greets me cheerfully. He introduces me to his favourite customers. I soon learn that every customer is his favourite. I talk more than I've talked in six months. It feels good to express myself in words, even to complete strangers about practically nothing.

At seven, Emmett tells me to sit down in kitchen while he gets me a drink. I sit obediently but try to think of way to avoid drinking whatever he's making.

He comes back with a full-on strawberry and banana smoothie (277), putting it in front of me and telling me to drink. I stare at the straw in repulsion, unable to imagine putting one end in my mouth and sucking up all those delicious empty calories.

If they're empty, that means they don't mean anything, right? No Right. I take a cautious sip. Emmett nods encouragingly. "Don't drink too fast," he warns and I almost burst into laughter.

"You own Vanilla Lily, right?" I ask, trying to distract him. He nods. "Why did you start a restaurant? Why the name Vanilla Lily?"

He smiles. "I've always loved cooking and food, and I also like to run things. It was only natural that I open a restaurant. As for the name, I once dated a girl named Lily who smelt like vanilla."

I make a face. I don't like picturing Emmett dating. "What happened to her?"

"She dumped me. Decided she was heading for the big, big city. I wanted to stay here. She didn't love me enough to stay. I would have gone with her if she'd asked, but she didn't."

"You loved her enough to follow her."

"To the end of the world," he agrees.

"How did you get over her?"

He shrugs. "Took time, took endurance, took my friends, but I made it through. Why all the questions?"

I look down at my smoothie, and then back up at him. "It just reminded me of something, that story." And it had. My ending was just different.

"Drink your smoothie," Emmett commanded.

I did.

Total calorie intake = 346.

Weeks pass.

110.

I don't crumble, I stay strong.

104.

I stay in control.

100.

I stay pure, yet not pure enough.

97.

Clean, but not clean enough.

I learn more about Emmett. I grow to like him more and more and I wonder to myself if it's okay to date a twenty year old. I'm eighteen. I'm legal. There's nothing wrong with it.

He's still in the hallways. Her voice is still in my brain, speaking to me. I keep losing weight. I feel better with every pound shed. I feel like I can push it all in the voice's nonexistent face, I'm stronger than you, I'm still alive, I'm breathing. All the voice tells me to do now is die.

But there is a new voice now. A voice of reason, saying I made it through, you can do it, too. The instigator of the voice continues to give me food. I eat as little as possible and say I'm taking the rest home, when really I'm ditching it. I can't chance barely even a bite. 97 is on the edge of nowhere, if I eat I am afraid that I won't stop. I'm surprised the highway's ditches aren't full.

My parents ignore me except for the occasional eat this or you're never leaving again. Teddy watches my every bite, knowledge in his eyes. Tom copies the way I play with my food. I feel guilty for corrupting him.

He approaches me at lunch. I am sitting in the library, reading a magazine, when he suddenly appears before me.

"Hello, Rosalie," he says.

"Hi," I reply, folding the magazine in my lap.

"I miss you. It's not the same without you," he blurts.

I stare at him blankly. "I thought you had Bella?"

"She's not the same as you. Please, Rose," he implores.

This is the moment. I should feel redeemed, worthy. Everything that I've thought in the past seven months should be erased from my memory, and I'll fall into his passionate embrace. Everything will be fine again.

Instead, I feel sick. What kind of manipulative bastard was he? I see everything in a new light, but not the light I expected. Every cruel thing he did is now unmasked for me to look at and ask why didn't I see that before?

"Excuse me," I mumble, pushing past him and out of the library. Behind a tall bookshelf, I see Edward's friends laughing. I keep walking, but I pause outside the library and look back in. Edward is laughing along with them now, and I realize: it was a prank. He never really wanted me back.

And that's fine, because I don't want him back either.

Bella is getting books from her locker. I stop and look at her, really look at her. She's not perfect. Everyone but me must have known. I feel like a person whose eyelids have been shut tight for centuries finally able to open them up and see.

The mirrors in the bathroom have been cleaned, I'm sure of it. There's no way that the skeleton in the mirror is me. I walk away numbly, unable to look at myself.

"Dead girl walking," a guy whispers to his friend as I walk by.

I only just realized how true that statement is.

I almost run into Vanilla Lily that afternoon. When I see Emmett behind the counter, I do run. I throw my arms around him in a gigantic hug and he picks me up, swinging me around.

"What's the occasion?" he asks.

I grin at him. "I can see now," I tell him.

Somehow, he understands.

I get permission to go home early and I pull Teddy aside to talk to me. I tell him that we're going to tell my parents together, that he has to help me or I won't be able to do it. He agrees, smiling the entire time.

At dinner that night, Teddy begins. "Mom, Dad. Rose needs to tell you something."

I should have known this was his version of helping. I take a deep breath and put down my fork, picking up the papers I printed off the internet. I clear my throat. Everyone is staring at me. It's terrifying.

"I... I... I need help," I stutter out, unable to say anything more. I hand the papers to Violet. She gives some to Harvey. I watch nervously as they read.

Violet sighs deeply and picks something up off her lap, handing it to me. It's a bright pink brochure for an eating disorder rehab just outside of Rochester. I furrow my eyebrows. "You knew?" I ask.

Violet and Harvey My parents nod. "We only just figured out exactly what it was."

That doesn't matter to me. Tears well up in my eyes. "I didn't know you cared this much."

"Oh, honey. Of course we do. You're our child," Violet says. Harvey nods.

I fall into their embrace. I feel not as if I'm coming home, but as if I'm realizing that I never left. Tom joins the hug the way little kids do, and Teddy stands to the side awkwardly before I motion for him to get under my arm. He does, and I kiss him on the forehead before whispering in his ear, "I couldn't have done it without you."

The lake beside me is clear blue, pure and cleansed. The grass I am sitting on is plush green, a perfect carpet. The new voice, the man's voice, whispers in my ear, "That's right, Rose. You can do it. I love you." I smile and lay back on the ground.

"I know," I reply.

A fairy flutters by on the wind and I watch it sparkle in the sunlight, little water droplets making iridescent rainbows reflect everywhere.

The world feels right.

The writing style (not the plot) I used for this is taken from Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson. Fantastic book--if you like this, you'll definitely like it.

Thanks to Jenn, Lenn, Dream, and Leon for pre-reading. Couldn't do it without you, peeps! :D

Please review! I love feedback, and I'm especially excited to hear what people think of this one.