Present Day
“He’s cute, though,” Karen says, looking over at Harrison O’Conner.
“Cute?” I shake my head. “Not the word I would use to describe him.”
“You’re crazy,” Emilia says. She reaches for one of her French fries and takes a big bite. “He’s handsome as hell. What aren’t you seeing?”
It’s more like, what am I not seeing?
Harrison O’Conner is not exactly my definition of a nice guy. He’s tall, and if I’m being honest, he’s in pretty good shape. He’s fit and athletic, but he’s not someone I would look twice at in public. Part of that’s because Harrison and I grew up in the same house. Uncle Frank, also known to Harrison as dad, made sure that the two of us always knew exactly who I was: no one.
I was no one to their family, and that was how I was raised.
When I’m alone, and when I’m honest, then yeah, Harrison is pretty damn good-looking, but that’s not a secret I’m willing to share with anyone. Not even my best friends.
I just shrug and shake my head.
“Maybe I’m wrong,” I mutter. I don’t want to rock the boat, and I certainly don’t want my friends to know what I really think about Harrison. They don’t need to know that I’m actually scared of him. They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of what he could do to me.
Harrison basically holds my life in his hands. All it would take is one word from him and his dad would pull his funding for my education. He’d pull everything, and I’d be out on the streets again, just like my mother was all of those years ago.
“He might be cute,” Karen says. “But I bet he’s got a mean streak.” She’s observant. I’ll give her that. Most people wouldn’t see past his stylish haircut or his neat and tidy clothes. Most people look at Harrison and they think he’s an all-around incredible guy.
In some ways, they’re right.
Harrison is a great student and an incredible athlete, but he’s a huge asshole and he’ll do anything to get his way.
“Are you going to eat those?” Emilia looks pointedly at my lunch plate. I don’t have to look down to know what she’s talking about. I rarely eat food at school. If I can help it, I never eat, but I can’t always help it. Sometimes the pain of hunger becomes too much to bear. Sometimes it’s just too much to handle.
“You can have them,” I say, shoving my plate of green beans to her.
Emilia just stares at the food and then looks back up at me.
“I don’t want your fucking food,” she says. “Are you serious right now? You’re losing weight, Adalee. You eat.”
She pushes the plate right back to me and her eyes narrow. I know that I’m going to have to eat something if I want to appease her, but the problem is that it’s becoming harder and harder to maintain my weight, and I know what happens if I don’t.
Frank will have a fucking field day.
None of my friends know that he requires me to weigh in daily and send him a picture of the scale.
None of them know just how hard he rides me, even now.
Even now that I no longer live with him and I’m “safely” at boarding school, he still has me under his thumb, and I have no idea how to escape from him.
“I just haven’t felt hungry lately,” I lie flatly.
It’s a total and utter lie.
I am hungry.
I’m always hungry.
When I’m alone, the temptation to overeat consumes me. Some people might consider me to have an eating disorder, but it’s entirely forced by Frank. If it was my choice, I’d do nothing but eat.
It’s not my choice, though.
I have to do what he says.