Page 36 of Picture Perfect

They couldn't even let me order what I wanted. I am so sick of people thinking they have control over me. I'm tired of being a pawn in other people's games.

Sure I feel some strange sort of attraction to them. They're a different kind of danger, one I can't seem to stop myself from wanting to touch. But this? No, this just pisses me off.

I'm not a goddamned object. I am not a piece to move across the board. I've been one long enough. It's too late in the game to start adding new players.

When the waitress returns with our meals, the plate she places in front of me is overflowing. The french fries shine. There's a thick bun surrounding a greasy meat patty loaded with toppings.

It smells like a heart attack waiting to happen. It looks like five pounds on the scale tomorrow morning. I can't eat this.

"Is there a fucking problem?" Saint demands.

"I don't—"

I haven't had beef in over a year. Hell, I haven't had bread in over three. I gag just looking at this monstrosity masquerading as food.

Dre reaches around Gen and snatches a fry off my plate. "She's just shy," he tells Saint while hovering the greasy potato stick in front of my face like he's waiting for me to take a bite.

Saint's hands slam down on the table again. "Eat the fucking burger, Princess. Now."

I recoil instinctively. Years of regimented eating make the very sight turn my stomach. But their expectant glares make it clear I have little choice.

Something inside me snaps. All these years of feeling powerless, of being at the mercy of others, suddenly boil over. I take a deep breath, muster up every ounce of courage within me, and look Saint dead in the eye as I snatch up the burger and take a gigantic bite.

Instant regret.

My taste buds are instantly overwhelmed by a combination of greasy meat, wilted lettuce, overly sweet tomato, and pickles that have been sitting out too long. Is that...is that mustard!? I choke back a gag, forcing myself to swallow.

That might be a mistake too. I can feel the burger sitting like a rock in my shrinking stomach. It's beginning to revolt. I can feel it churning and gurgling as I drop the burger back on the plate.

My body begs for mercy, but I've made my point. I'm not sure what point that is anymore. I didn't resist his control, I fed into it. It felt like a tiny victory in the moment, but the battlefield in my stomach makes it feel like I lost all subsequent battles. I'm ready to wave the white flag.

I wipe the sweat from my brow and try to catch my breath, the overwhelming nausea and stomach pain threatening to overtake me. Saint's eyes are black holes of condemnation, while Dre just tilts his lips in that infuriating smirk.

Gen watches with an amusement that's quickly turning into concern. Chess freezes. His eyes widen as he looks at me.

"Addy," he begins hesitantly, "are you okay? You're looking a little...green."

"Literally green girl. You look like Kermit the frog's cuter cousin."

I try to laugh it off, but the pain in my stomach doesn't find it amusing. Gen's face softens, and she reaches out a hand to touch my arm. I shake my head, unable to find the words.

Dre's laughter fills the room, echoing off the white walls and making me feel even more vulnerable. Saint's eyes stay fixed on me, his disapproval palpable. I swallow hard, trying to hold back the urge to vomit, but the sensation in my stomach is just too much.

I'm scrambling, shoving at Gen as though I can physically push through her body and exit out the other side. Dre seems to understand the urgency of the situation and stands up as quickly as he possibly can. Gen almost hits the floor with how quickly I'm pushing her along the bench seat.

Then, with a sudden burst of energy, I bolt from the room, trying to hold onto my stomach in hopes of sparing the other patrons from the sight of my impending vomit.

I almost wish I'd just spewed across the table, smearing Saint's smug face with the consequences of his actions.

I stumble down the hallway and to the bathroom. There's not even time to close the stall door before I'm down on my knees over the toilet. I try to hold on to the cold—and completely fucking disgusting—porcelain for dear life as my stomach empties itself on burst of agony.

I will never forgive him for this.

As my body convulses and my vision begins to blur, I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's Gen, and there's genuine concern in her voice. "Addy, are you okay? Do you need help?"

I manage a weak nod as I try to steady myself, taking a deep breath before another deluge of stomach contents exits the way it entered.

When I finally manage to pull myself up from the floor, I wash my face in the cold sink, trying to gather my strength. My dignity left the building already.

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