April 14, 2012
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I do my hair, wondering how much longer the soft curls that lie around my face will stay. I apply my lip gloss in hopes that it will cover my trembling lips. I throw on my old hoodie, covering the scars and the bruises. I walk down the stairs, to see my mother making breakfast. She placed a small plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of me.
“Eat up Honey. You’ll need the energy to get through the day.”
I just stare at the plate, my stomach so hungry, yet I know it’s very deceiving. I know if I eat, I will end up throwing up at school.
“Oh, Honey, at least eat a few bites. I know they’re your favorite.”
I didn’t want to make her feel bad, so I just took a tiny bite. Almost instantly, my stomach was on fire. I winced, but then settled back down. I didn’t want to show my mother how much pain I was in. As I slide my books into my bag, my mom says sweetly, “You’re going to have to tell them sooner or later.”
“Fine,” I say “I choose later.” She ruffles my hair and along with her hand comes a small clump of hair. I can see tears welt up in her eyes. She quickly turns around and rids herself of the hair before turning back around to me.
“I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean,” I cut her off.
“Mom, it’s fine. Can I go now?”
“Sure.” She says taking a deep breath. I know this is hard on her too. I walk out the door and off to school. I turn around to go get something

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