FicWad

I frowned and said nothing. Finally, the doctor felt the tiniest bit merciful and said, "I won't tell them. There's no need. I'll just tell them what is wrong with you. It's not hard to figure out. You may put your dress back on." The doctor pushed my legs back together and handed me my dress that I had tossed on the floor earlier when he had ordered me to strip.

I yanked my dress over my head just as there was a knock at the door. Arranging my skirt around and trying to calm my ragged breathing, I watched as the doctor got up and went to the door. He opened it and ushered two figures in. I recognized those forms immediately; they were my parents. I gulped and attempted to smile.

Mother hurried to my side and looked up at the doctor nervously, "What's wrong with her? Will she be okay?" Mother grabbed my hand much too tightly, her fingernails digging into my skin. I grimaced at the pain and looked up at the doctor, wondering what in the world he was going to tell them. My father stepped forward and looked between me and the doctor.

"She'll be fine," the old doctor said with a nod. "She just hasn't been eating, which is quite obvious to both of you, I'm sure. There are quite a few things you can do to make her get better. First of all, she has to start eating. It's going to be painful, but you need to force her to eat so she doesn't stave to death." The doctor avoided my eyes...for good reasons.

"Um, excuse me?" I blurted out angrily. "I'm right here! No way are people going to force food down my throat." I crossed my arms and glared at the doctor and my parents. The doctor continued avoiding my gaze and continued talking to my alarm, "She needs to be kept inside. Just a simple fall could cause her to break something. Plus, she needs someone to be around often to take care of her."

"She's going to get married at the end of the week," my mother stated a-matter-of-factly. The doctor nodded and replied, "That will be good for her. You're giving her away to a loving man who will take care of her, right? She needs someone's help right now." My mother and father exchanged glances and shrugged, "I suppose so."

I didn't like the way this conversation was going. I tried to sit up and get out of bed, "Can I go home now?" The doctor looked at the ceiling, obviously annoyed with my behavior, and then nodded, "I don't see why not." I slipped out of bed and almost fell as I started making my way to the door. Mother grabbed my arm and held me upright as we exited the door.

We went straight home. Nobody talked the whole time. It was starting to get kind of creepy. When we finally arrived home, I went right up to my bedroom to lay down. I flopped onto the bed and was almost asleep when I heard a knocked on the door. Before I could even answer it, the door opened and my father came in with a big plate of food.

I glared at him when I saw the food and rolled onto my stomach. My father sighed and pulled up a chair next to my bed. He tapped my shoulder. I still didn't budge or even acknowledge his presence. Getting annoyed, my father asked, "You know what you have to do, don't you?" I knew, but I wouldn't do it. I replied with a resounding, "No, I won't eat."

"Yes," my father said. "You will. It would be a lot easier if you could just do this yourself, you know. It's not like I want to force you to eat." I made a face into the pillow. He could just stop it with all the niceties. Rolling my eyes, I retorted, "Okay, well, get out then. I'm not going to eat. So why don't you just leave me alone? I'm tired."

My father didn't move. Shit. So much for that. He reached forward and tried to turn me onto my back. I glared into the pillow and started kicking as he attempted to flip me over, "Don't touch me! You have to right to." My father just smirked and replied, "I am your father, I can do what I want. I don't want to do this, but you're giving me no choice."

Father snuck his hand under my body as I tried to kick and squirm away. He grabbed my breast and squeezed it hard. I immediately froze and whimpered, "God...what was that for?" Samuel kept squeezing it and took advantage of me. He flipped me over and said, "There. You know you brought that all down on yourself. You could just cooperate."

He attempted to hand me the plate of food, saying, "Now eat." If he thought I was going to eat after that, he was crazy. I spat at him, "Never!" My father got a funny look in his eyes. He reached forward and grabbed my jaw. He yanked my lips apart roughly and crammed a bit of foot down my throat, keeping my mouth held open so I couldn't spit it back out.

I choked and gagged, trying to spit it back out. My father crammed my jaw shut and held my lips together for a good minute to make sure I had swallowed. The rest of the meal went down the same way. My father slammed food into my throat and clamped my mouth shut while I was forced to swallow. My stomach felt like a balloon about to burst. God, I must weigh a thousand pounds.

After what seemed like an eternity, the food was gone and my father stood up. He gave me a sympathetic look and said, "I'm sorry, Jenna. I wish I didn't have to." In no mood to forgive him or anyone, I glared and shook my head, "You're not sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldn't do it." I spat at him and cussed under my breath once the door was closed.

I felt horrible after he left me. I wanted to throw up, and yet, I couldn't. My stomach felt like it was going to explode inside me. Even curling up into a little ball didn't help. Tears streaked down my cheeks and I wished for once that I would just die right here and now. I couldn't go through this again...could I? They wouldn't make me eat again...would they?

Apparently, they could and would. The next five days were filled with tortured. I was forced to eat mountains of food that stretched my stomach to the point of agony. I started not being able to feel or think. All I did was lay in my bedroom, staring at the ceiling while blank thoughts filled my mind. I was in far too much pain to do anything or even think.

But like everything, days passed and before I knew it, it was Thursday night. I was to be married Friday afternoon. I could barely think about marriage or anything of the like since I was in so much physical and emotional pain. My father had just shoved another meal down my throat and I was trying to recover from it.

Sweat was trickling down my forehead, I was gasping, and I was attempting to puke. Unable to do any of that, I got up out of bed and looked out the window, thinking about my marriage. Suddenly, I remembered that Cutler had never told me what exactly was wrong with Mercer. I needed to know what it was before tomorrow and the only way to do that was to go visit Cutler.

Ignoring the fact that I was in my nightgown and the fact that I looked like shit, I quietly opened the window and looked down below. The ground wasn't too far away. I could jump and would hopefully be okay. Nobody seemed to be out and about this time of night. Giving one more careful look around, I climbed out the window and dropped to the ground.

The impact was hard, but nothing was broken thankfully. I quickly got to my feet before my parents could see me and started stumbling off towards Cutler's home. I went as fast as I could. After all, there were many predators out at night and I was in no mood to get caught. It hurt to move fast when my stomach was so full though. It felt like it was going to pop open at any moment.

By the time I got to Cutler's, I just wanted to drop down and die. Everything hurt. My stomach killed, my heart pounded, my head throbbed, and every limb in my body felt weak and tired. I knocked hard on the door and suddenly realized I couldn't stand anymore. I slumped to the ground and sobbed quietly as I waited for Cutler to open the door.

After only a few seconds of waiting, the door cracked open and Cutler peered out at me, "Jenna? Oh god..." He leaned down and picked me up. I flopped around limply as he held me and buried my head to his chest, "Kill me. Please...I can't stand this." I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to see the light. Maybe I could just fall into darkness for eternity.

"Calm down, calm down," Cutler said soothingly. He brought me over to the bed and laid me down on it. He sat next to me and stroked my sweaty, wet hair away from my face. Kissing my lips softly, he murmured, "There. Just stay calm. I'll help you. Now tell me what happened. Who hurt you? What did they do? Tell me."

I squirmed around, trying to get comfortable, but no position was comfortable. Sighing, I whispered, "My parents. They're forcing me to eat all these mountains of food. I can't bear it. My stomach is going to burst. It hurts so bad..." I started crying against as I wriggled around. I still couldn't get comfortable. God, this hurt...

Cutler sighed and tried to think of what to do. He held out his hand to me. I grabbed it and held it against my cheek, needing something to hold onto. Cutler thought for a few minutes and then gave me a nervous look, "May I look at it? You know, your stomach?" His eyes searched mine nervously as if he knew just how hard of a time I had with people looking at my belly.

I shook my head and groaned, "No, it's fat and gross. Like me. That's all I am. A bag of shit." I started crying harder and pressed my forehead against Cutler's hand. Cutler sighed again and gave me a meaningful look, "If you let me look at it, I can help you. I love you. I'm not going to love you any less today than last time we met. Okay?"

Not really having the strength to argue, I just shrugged and mumbled, "I'm fat. You're going to hate me." Cutler decided that was the best answer he was going to get. He looked me up and down and took hold of the bottom edge of my nightgown, "I'm going to have to undress you, okay? I already told you that I'm not going to care what your body looks like, so it'll be okay."

It didn't feel okay, but again, I was too weak to argue. I let Cutler slip my nightgown off and lay before him as naked as the day I was born. Cutler looked down at my stomach and frowned slightly. It was kind of bloated and strange looking. Plus, I had been hitting myself in frustration, so I now had purplish bruises over my belly as well.

"Can I touch it?" Cutler asked, meeting my eyes. To be honest, I was surprised he hadn't kicked me out the door telling me how ugly my body was and how worthless I was. Still in shock, I raised an eyebrow and gave him a funny look, "Wait a second. So you're not kicking me out? You don't hate me...?" I couldn't believe it.

"Why would I hate you?" Cutler asked in confusion. He gently placed a hand on my belly and then moved it to my side, where he stroked me lovingly. "Of course I would never hate you. I love you. There's nothing wrong with your body. You just need to learn to digest food again. I have a pill that could help you. Do you want to take it?"

I nodded vigorously, "Please, yes. I can't stand this." I rolled around on the bed some more. Cutler nodded and stood up hesitatingly, as if he didn't want to leave me. He took a step towards the door and called to me, "I'll be right back, don't move." Cutler slipped through the door and disappeared. I blinked and rolled around some more.

I ended up rolling so much that I fell right out of bed with a loud clunk. Cutler came running back into the room, pill in hand. He frowned when he saw me on the floor. Gently wrapping his arms around my body, he rested me back onto the bed and handed me the pill. I grabbed it and quickly swallowed it, hoping it would start helping right away.

"Darling..." Cutler started out, giving me a nervous look. Oh shit, here it comes. Now he was going to kick me out. I knew it! Not bothering to open my eyes, I groaned, "If you don't want me, just throw me outside. I can't move." Soft palms cupped my face and soft lips brushed against my mouth as Cutler murmured, "Now don't be stupid."

"I'm not," I protested, "Look at me! I'm all fucked up." Cutler's eyes roamed up and down my body, but he didn't seem to think I was that fucked up. Cutler lifted one of my eyelids and murmured, "Listen to me. You're not a piece of trash and I'm not going to throw you away. Now let's talk about more important matters. How long have you had to do this?"

"Too long," I groaned. "And you're forgetting something. I'm getting married tomorrow."