8.18: Endings

WARNING: YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ SOME REALLY F%#*ED UP $#!T THAT MIGHT BE TRIGGERING AND OFFENSIVE AND IS REALLY F%#*ING MESSED UP. ALSO, I VERY, VERY, VERY RARELY CURSE (this is why I usually say 'fudge' or 'sugar' instead of the real F or S word) SO IN CASE YOU GENERALLY IGNORE WARNINGS BE WARNED. IT IS MESSED UP AND SICKENING ENOUGH THAT I CURSED.

Marlo's POV...

   "They're paying closer attention…" I whispered, lowering myself onto the floor of the stage. 

   "They are?" Mr. Elton sympathetically asked. "Why do you think that?"

   "Anderson, my younger brother, sorta brings out this maternal instinct I didn't know my mom had. She's started pressing me more about food, watching what I do online more, monitoring my activities. It's like, she actually cares. It's super sucky, cause I'm having to eat stuff or else she gets all bitchy about it."

   "What do you do about the eating?"

   "Well, like, I can't gain weight. I mean, I didn't get into that one academy, so I need to be even more perfect, even skinnier. I've started purging or puking or whatever."

   "All the time?"

   "Not really. I mean, I don't go over to mom's a ton, so only when I'm at there or dad watches me."

   "Good. You know how bad throwing up is; it'll hurt your pretty little complexion, starving is much better."

   "I know, Mr. El-"

   "I've told you, Marlo, call me Nicholas."

   "I know…" I looked up at him as he stroked my cheek. "Um, my pro-ana Tumblr's gotten two hundred followers." I said, glancing back down, hoping to change the subject.

   "Tumblr?" He asked. "You fifteen year olds, so young, so beautiful, so pure… So technology oriented." When he said pure, he moved his hand from his lap to my leg, stroking it up.

   "Yeah." I said shifting my weight.

   "Your purity and beauty is why I love you. Your purity from your tough, your beauty from your slimness."

   "I wanna be skinnier."

   "Don't worry, you will be. Stay motivated; you'll be the best ballerina ever. I'll make sure of it."

   "Thank you, Mr. Elt- Nicholas." He was a donor I'd met the night of the recital. I'd convinced him to donate two hundred thousand dollars to the studio, ever since he'd been helping me be pretty. He bought me diet pills, leotards, laxatives, makeup, private lessons with better teachers, and in turn didn't ask for any money from me, he just wanted to occasionally kiss me, stroke me, watch me preform or change or he would ask for pictures of my body. It was all innocent; besides he was helping me… honestly, he was helping me. He was, really. He was the one person who cared about what I did, he was the one person who understood what it was like, trying to be pretty in a world of preexisting perfection. I knew I was ugly, worthless, I knew my family wanted me to be hideous and fat and fail, but her wanted the opposite. I didn't believe him when he said I was beautiful; I wouldn't be truly beautiful until I was the thinnest of them all. I was five-seven, one hundred and two point three pounds and I wouldn't be perfect until I was eight five point zero.

   "I want to help you, Marlo. What you read about depression and bulimia, anorexia being diseases, weaknesses, is wrong. You aren't diseased and weak, you're strong and healthy."

   "Thank you." I felt his hand moving up my thigh, towards my thin skirt, my leotard and tights underneath them.

   "You are grateful for my help, aren't you?"

   "Very much." I smiled, my eyes still focused on my frail fingers.

   "Why won't you look at me, then? Why look down. Your eyes are so beautiful... I help you, won't you do this to repay me? Won't you look at me?" I glanced up, his gaze upon me. "Thank you." He leaned closer, his hand moving up from my thigh to my waist, then towards my rather small endowments. I felt him squeezing, I wanted to look down, wanted to shut my eyes, but that would upset him and he wouldn't help me be perfect anymore. "Do you like that?" He asked.

   "Yes." I squeaked, lying. "Thank you, sir."

   "Not sir." He said firmly, pinching my arm fat harshly, as if to remind me. "Nicholas."

   "Nicholas." I repeated. "Nicholas." The word felt filthy, sickly in my mouth. I hated it.

   "Your voice is so lovely."

   "Thank you." 

   "Your mouth so delicate. It's begging for me, you're begging for me, aren't you? Begging for me to kiss you?"

   "Yes, Nicholas. I am." The kisses, the tiny white lies, if I did this, if I played his game, I would be vastly rewarded. Nothing was wrong with this, really. Honestly, it was innocent. Perfectly okay. Really.

   "Ah. Good." He placed his lips on mine, pushing me down, so I was now lying on the stage. He placed one hand on my thigh, keeping me down, the other squeezed and pinched and tugged. I felt his tongue forcing its way against my lips, a barrier, so I opened my mouth slightly, letting him do what he wanted. "You know, Marlo, the studio is closed. No one else is here."

   "I didn't know that." I whispered, my heart pounding faster. What did he mean by that? What was he planning?

   "I can feel your heartbeat. I know you want this, I know you're excited and anxious."

   "Yes, Nicholas. I am." I wasn't sure what he meant, or at least I didn't want to think about it. If only I could squeeze my eyes shut, let this kissing be done with.

   "When we met, you were so young. The kisses, they were alright, but I couldn't... You weren't mature enough, for me. Not thin enough, not pretty enough. Now you are."

   "I am glad I am."

   "Shh." He said, pressing his hand against my lips. "See, now, now I can tell your body craves it. I had to wait until it needed it, needed me." Needed him? Honestly, whatever he did, it would be fine, really, it wouldn't matter. This was okay. It was. It was innocent. He didn't want to hurt me. He wouldn't do anything too bad, anything that would make me too uncomfortable. Honestly, he wouldn't. I trusted him, he wouldn't hurt my trust. I know, I know, he wouldn't. "You are needing it. You know me. What you need, what you crave, it is what I give you. It would be rude not to." 

   He began peeling off my leotard, as I limply laid there. He probably just wanted a better look. He wouldn't, he wouldn't do that to me. He knew that I wouldn't like that. I wouldn't say yes to that. I trusted him, that meant he had to be good. Innocent. I shivered as he removed my layers, one by one, until I was left in nothing but point shoes. He wouldn't do this. He won't. No, no, no. Honestly, he wouldn't. He's good. He won't.

   "Such a work of art... So frail, the thinly strewed skin covered your angular bones. I know you can do better, though. I know, ten or so pounds, then you'll actually be pretty. See, now... I know I said you were beautiful, but looking at you, I know you could do better. Be thinner. Still, you want this." He sighed. Was I a disappointment? I know I wasn't at my ideal weight, I know I'm not perfect, not yet, I know I'm hideous, but I thought he didn't think that. He was proud of me. Proud of my progress. He needed to be. Had to be. Honestly, if he wasn't... He put so much effort, money into me. If I wasn't near perfect, then the money, the touching, the kisses had been for nothing. The violation... If it was nothing, then I'd be lost. Worthless. 

   "You've never done this before?" He asked. I shook my head, knowing what he meant. "Good. I would hate to think you'd given yourself to someone who was only pretending to care for you, in order to get into your pants. I care. I'm doing this because I care and you think I deserve a reward." I shut my eyes as he removed several articles of his clothing. I felt him moving on top of me, felt him covering my face with his shirt, felt him pushing, penetrating. It would be okay. Really, it would. Honestly. It'd be over soon. I was a failure; I deserved this punishment. Really.

Harbor's POV,  four months later…

   I knocked on Maya's door, she said she'd drop Marlo off at ballet practice, yet the teacher just called, informing me that Marlo hadn't shown up. Phoebe was still at school, her graduation was soon and they'd asked all the students to stay after so they could rehearse the speeches and walking onto stage and whatever else. Maya hadn't opened the door, which was rather odd, so I tried turning the doorknob, to find that it was unlocked. That's odd… I stepped inside, greeted with eerie silence, instead of the cheerful smiles of Marlo, three year old Anderson, and Maya.

   "Marlo?" I called out. "Hello? Is everything okay?" No one answered me, so I decided to try going upstairs. Maybe they were just very involved in whatever they were doing? 

   "WAHH!" I began climbing up the stairs, when suddenly the earring splitting shriek of a three year old could produce. Suddenly I was running.

   "Anderson?!"

   "Eh, wah, hungwey! WAHH!" I moved quicker, than burst into the nursery to fin him in tears, bawling. "Daddy? I hungry."

   "Okay, Andy. We'll get you food. Do you know where mama and sissy are?"

   "Yeah." He nodded, as he began sucking on his thumb.

   "Where are they?"

   "Me hungwey."

   "I know, daddy will get you something, I promise. Daddy wants to ask mama something first, though, okay?"

   "Mama go into bawthwoom. Mama not back. Me hungwey."

   "Okay, I'm going to go look at the bathroom first, though, okay? I'll be right back, Andy." I worriedly paced to the bathroom. The door was closed, so I knocked. No answer. "Hey. Hey, Maya? Are you in there? I'm coming in there, alright?" I threw open the door, the sight sickening. "Oh my... Fudge! Marlo? Marlo, honey?" I be at down, seeing my fifteen yera old withered around the commode covered in what looked my vomit made me want to scream and cry, but I needed to stay calm. Calm. Calm. Dammit, calm. I held her arm, it felt cold, trying to feel for a pulse. There wasn't one. Dammit, calm. Dammit. "Marlo? Honey, I love you, Marlo?" I took out my phone, quickly dialing the hospital.

   "Hello, please explain your emergency."

   "I need an ambulance, I need an ambulance, I need a-"

   "Sir clam down, please!"

   "I am calm, I am calm."

   "Sir, what's wrong?"

   "My daughter... She's on the ground, she's, she's not... I don't think that there's a pulse."

   "We're sending an ambulance, what's the address?"

   "I just found her, in my ex-wife's house, it is at," I rambled off the address, starting to jumble my words. "Hurry, hurry!"

   "Sir, we will be there as quick as we can. Do you know when she collapsed?"

   "No, no I don't... Please, she's covered in-n vomit."

   "Sir, you said you found her in your ex-wife's home, is she there with you?"

   "No, no, I don't-t, no I-I do-on't kn-now wh-here she is."

   "Please stay calm."

   "I am-m, damm-mit-t."

   "Sir-"

   "The windows open."

   "Pardon?" 

   "The window... Maya never opens them."

   "Sir-"

   "The window…" As if in a trance, I moved towards it, then I looked down, past the ledge. The sight was ghastly. Holy mother of God. Dammit. God. No. Please. Dammit. "She's... No. No. No!"

   "What? Sir, please-"

   "She... She's down there. Her-r organs, they're all over, sh-he jumped?! No. My chest… it started hurting. My left arm… now, my vision, I…" The phone dropped from my hand, as I crumpled down, hitting the ground as the lights went off and my vision went black.

   Yesterday afternoon the local emergency services found three dead in Maya Bayonet's home. Bayonet was one of the three, after local government employees Harbor Janes called the services, requesting an ambulance for his daughter, Marlo Janes, who was found, collapsed in the bathroom. Marlo was determined to be dead before H. Janes reached her.

M. Janes, 15, a dedicated ballerina, died from esophagitis, a condition where the esophagus is inflamed. M. Janes was found severely underweight and sixteen weeks pregnant, the father of the fetus- a girl, who did not make it- has yet to come forward. M. Janes' weight and online activity has left investigators o believe that she was an anorexic, bulimic, depressed teenager who never sought treatment. The constant purging is what lead to her esophagitis. M. Janes was believed to have been overcome with morning sickness and did not intentionally throw up her final time.

Maya Bayonet's, 40, cause of death was suicide. She jumped, doctors believe, after finding her daughter in the bathroom, dead. She did not have any previous health issues, it is suspected that she was overcome with grief and shock.

Harbor Janes, 37, died while on the phone with emergency services from a shock/surprise induced heart attack after finding not only his daughter, but ex-lover, Bayonet, dead.

H. Janes was a kind, caring citizen who will be dearly missed. The three leave behind Phoebe Janes, 18, Bayonet and H. Janes' daughter, and Anderson Janes, 3, their son. No funeral plans have been made, however, if you would like to donate to the family or send your condolences, you are welcome to, just contact the local paper. The three will be deeply missed by the community and were lost too soon.