Chapter Text
Everyone has habits they aren't proud of. For example, Rachel would go shopping for hours when she was in a bad mood. What Monica did was different, but it made her feel better. Besides, she needed to lose weight anyways, so it didn’t hurt, right? The important part was that it made her feel better. In control. Yes, she had control, she wasn’t completely losing her mind.
She opened the door to her shared bathroom with Ross, locked the door, and turned on the sink. She kneeled down by the toilet seat, her bony knees aching against the porcelain floor. She had promised herself she would stop with the purging after she’d almost been caught a couple of months back. But dinner had been too big and she’d eaten too much.
She took a deep breath before she forced her slim fingers down her throat. The stank of pee was stinging her nose. Tears were flowing from her eyes as she forced her fingers further down. Her gag reflex was hardly there anymore and purging was getting harder each time she did it. It was exhausting her and she was certain it was visible. Finally, after a couple of minutes and too much salvia for her liking, she was able to empty the continents of her stomach. She felt better right away. She flushed the toilet and lifted her aching knees from the floor.
She looked at herself in the mirror and she almost felt proud of herself. She’d gotten this far. She had control and the weight she’d been losing was really starting to show. Her cheeks looked hollow and her eyes were red. Her eyes had visible dark circles underneath them, but she didn’t mind. It made her look better. It made her look sick. She was great. She was finally getting thin. Thin like Rachel. Thin like the girls in the magazines she read so often.
Monica flushed the toilet once again and picked up her toothbrush. She always did this. She brushed her teeth and wiped away the tears that had stuck to her eyelashes. She took a last glance at herself in the mirror before she put her toothbrush back in place and unlocked the bathroom door. On her way down to her room, she bumped into Ross. His chocolate-colored eyes scanned her entire body before they reached her eyes and widened. It was enough to make Monica’s skin crawl.
“Have you been crying? Are you okay?” Ross asked worriedly. His concern made her want to scream at him. Of course, she wasn’t okay. She had just puked up her dinner in the bathroom. She was severely undernourished and no one fucking cared. But she was getting thin so it didn’t matter. Not to them at least. Not to anyone really. She was getting thin like they’d always wanted her to be. They didn’t have to be embarrassed to walk around with her anymore. She was doing all of them a favor, didn’t they see that? She was doing this for them.
“Of course I am! Just leave me alone,” Monica snapped. As bad as she felt bad for snapping at her older brother, she ignored his longing yells as she walked towards her bedroom. What he thought didn’t matter. She had to do this. Without it, she was old and fat Monica again. She still saw her sometimes. Sometimes after dinner, she would catch a glimpse of her in the back of the mirror. She was haunting her. She would often show up in her dreams and it terrified her. The sight of what she looked like only a few months back made her want to vomit. She could never go back. Not now. Not ever.
Monica laid down in her bed and wrapped her duvets around her shaking body. To say she was exhausted was an understatement. It felt as if all of her energy had been drained from her body. Not to mention how extremely fucking cold she was. No matter how many layers of clothes she covered her body in, it still wouldn’t heat up. Her fingers were constantly red and ice cold and there had been times where she’ thoughts she would have to amputate them.
But that was good, she reminded herself. It was okay because that meant it was working. She was doing it right. She was finally succeeding at something other than school. If she would have to live with a few side effects she was okay with that. It was all gonna be worth it in the end.
Monica slowly lifted up her shirt and started stroking her stomach gently. Her ribs were sharp. Sharper than yesterday, she noted. Monica looked at the poster of Cindy Crawford above her. Cindy was 125 pounds. Monica was 105. But she felt so much fatter than Cindy. She didn’t look like Cindy Crawford at all. How come Cindy could be over 20 pounds heavier than her and still look skinnier? It wasn’t fair. She was fighting with her mind every single day to lose weight and Cindy probably ate everything she wanted. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. How come she had to starve herself while it came natural for others?
Once she reached 100 pounds she was sure everything was going to be okay. Soon, she would no longer see the disgusting fat Monica in the mirror anymore. Fat monica would be gone, like she’d never ever existed. Just like Monica wanted.
Oh, how she hated her.
Monica closed her eyes. The exhaustion had really taken a toll on her that day. Besides, sleeping meant burning calories. Going to bed early meant burning more calories, which was exactly what she needed. She was so close to 100 pounds. She couldn’t waste a second. Everything she did and had done was to reach 100. It was all she wanted, all she needed and she was willing to do everything to get there.
As she was drifting to sleep, she overheard her parents and Ross outside her door.
“She’s losing a lot of weight mom, she needs help. I don’t think she’s eating,” Monica heard Ross say. She almost laughed at Ross’ concern. Her ignorant parents would never believe him. Judy never took anything about Monica seriously. Instead she spent her time picking on every single mistake Monica made. She already knew what Judy’s reply was gonna be before she as much as opened her mouth.
“She’s just losing weight like she’s had to do for years. You’re just not used to her eating like a normal person,” Judy replied. Monica felt her heart drop at that and her eyes even started watering. She felt pathetic for crying over a stupid comment like that, but she couldn’t help it. She had seen it coming, but it still hurt. She was never gonna be good enough nor would her mother ever care about her. Not that she ever had. But that was okay, she thought. Because she didn’t care about her mother either.
In fact, if Judy was hit by a bus on her way to work she wouldn’t shed a tear.
“Mom, you’re not listening, she was throwing up after dinner today,” Ross said. Monica rose from her bed. There was no way. But she’d checked? If her mom believed him now she was fucked. Totally, totally fucked. They would send her away and she would lose the one thing that kept her from going insane. She placed her hand on her far too bony chest in an attempt to calm herself down. Judy wouldn't believe him, right?
“She was probably just not feeling well Ross and even if she was she needs to lose weight anyways,” Judy said. Monica felt both relieved and sad. Still ? She still needed to lose weight? Even though she hadn’t planned on stopping, hearing her mother’s words made her stomach tug and sent her further down her spiral. She needed to lose more. She needed to lose so much weight that she would vanish. She had to be on the verge of death for her parents to as much as notice. By the time she would get there, it would be too late. She would be dead and she didn’t really mind that. Her parents wouldn’t care either way.
All they cared about was Ross. Ross, their first born. Amazing Ross who never did anything wrong. The precious little boy who could get away with everything. Amazing Ross who got straight A's, just like her . But of course when he succeeded on something it was as if Jesus came back from the dead. Then Monica did the same thing and it was as if she’d spilled soda on their expensive carpet. Nothing she did mattered to them.
That night, Monica cried herself to sleep.