Illusion - Chapter Two

“Knowledge is free. We are Anonymous. We are legion. We do not forgive. We do not forget. Expect us.”
-Anonymous

“Aria, tell me: what were your end of Year Ten exam results?”

My father’s voice interrupted the clatter and scraping of knives and forks against plates as we ate at the dinner table. My mother sat diagonally opposite to me. My father sat next to me. At hearing him speak, I turned my head to gaze at him. He continued to eat, his lean and narrow frame upright against the back of his chair. I had inherited the uncontrollable dark hair and slightly almond-shaped eyes from him, as well as the round face. On the other hand, I looked nothing like my mother. My mother was very beautiful. She had luscious long and wavy dark hair that flowed down her back like water off a waterfall. Her eyes were emerald green, suited for her heart-shaped face and freckles that were spread across her cheeks and nose.

I swallowed the food in my mouth and frowned as I tried to recall my exam results.

“I got an A in physics and history,” I mumbled, “A B in biology, chemistry and maths; and a C in French.”

I shoved a forkful of couscous and spinach into my mouth and hunched over my bowl, sitting on the edge of my seat to catch any food that escaped from my mouth.

“Where are the A*’s?”

I froze in my seat. This had been the moment that I’d been dreading to hear when discussing my end of Year Ten exam results.

“I was one mark off A* in history and I scored a high A in physics,” I said.

My dad sighed.

“That’s not good enough, Aria,” he murmured, “Why didn’t you score any A*’s?”

I bloody studied my arse off for those A’s!

“I didn’t study hard enough,” I muttered through my mouthful of food. I stared down at my bowl of couscous, focusing intensely on the tiny individual grains. I was doing everything to avoid meeting my parents’ expectant stares.

“I am disappointed that you didn’t score any A*’s,” My dad replied, “Because you’re such a bright girl and I know you can achieve A*’s.”

I jabbed at my food with my fork as an uncomfortable silence began to fill the air. I wasn’t hungry anymore and had lost my appetite. Half of my portion was left but the sight of it made me feel ill and I didn’t care. All I wanted was to retreat into my room and to be left alone to my own devices.

“I’m finished,” I announced, and pushed my chair back against the floorboards as I stood up.

My parents looked astonished, their shocked expressions almost comical as they stared at me.

“Aria…” my mother exclaimed, “You’ve only eaten a few mouthfuls of your dinner!”

I frowned, gazing at her. I was in no mood to discuss my eating habits and to be irritated.

“Mum,” I sighed, annoyed. “I’m not starving myself, and I’m not anorexic either. I promise.”

“You have been losing a lot of weight over the past two months,” my dad added, “And you don’t seem to eat much. Why is that?”

I shrugged my shoulders, bemused and wordless.

Have I really been losing weight?

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, “I tend to get full really easily. Can I just leave the table please?”

I watched my parents as they glanced at each other before they reluctantly nodded. I breathed out a sigh of relief before heading for the kitchen with my bowl in hand. Once I was inside the kitchen, I scraped my half-eaten dinner into the bin, feeling a small twinge of guilt as I did so. There were children ridden with poverty and starvation in developing countries who deserved this food more than I did. I was throwing away valuable food that could have been given to them instead of me…

“Aria is starving herself,”

At hearing my mother’s words, I hesitated and let my bowl hover above the sink. My blood ran icy cold and my heart thudded as her words struck me, shattering my thoughts.

I’m not starving myself!

“Hmm,” this time, it was my father who spoke, “Perhaps it’s time we took her to see a doctor. She was complaining that…”

I turned the sink tap to full blast. The fierce flow and the sharp sound of the water drowned out my father’s words (why won’t Mum believe me?) before I could hear anymore. Tears pricked behind my eyes but I rubbed them away furiously before they could gather and fall.

The heat of the water had become close to scalding hot within a few seconds, but I let it sear into my skin. The pain distracted my mind from my parents’ discussion on whether I was starving myself or not, and the hurt of not being trusted and believed by my own family.

I could remember when I was younger, around fourteen years old, hating myself, hating school and hating this world that we lived in. I could recall the painful memories of being taunted by my classmates, mocked for being an outsider and outcast for my unusual behaviour and my ways of expressing myself. Slowly and gradually, I came to hate myself, despise myself for the person I was. Out of despair and self-loathing, I began to skip meals, not eating breakfast or lunch and instead focusing on studying or writing to block out the pain. The feeling of hunger felt good, reminding me that I was in full control of the situation this time. I was the one who could decide whether food entered my body or not, leaving my parents and teachers terrified for my health. Not eating and starving myself was almost like self-punishment or self-torment. I would lie on my bed for hours on end whilst my stomach twisted itself and my body weakened. It was only when I had blacked out in front of my classmates after not eating for a full day that I realised what I had been doing. From then on I had eaten three meals per day instead of one or none.

After washing and drying my bowl, I turned back towards the dining room again where my parents were sitting. They spoke in low and hushed tones, barely audible as they continued to sit as the dining table. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a few moments and slowly let it out before stepping into the dining room.

My parents did exactly as I’d expected them to do: almost as soon as I stepped into the dining room, they caught sight of me and immediately stopped speaking, turning around to face me. False smiles were plastered across their faces as they gazed at me. I froze in my tracks. I could tell that from their false smiles that I had been the main focus of their discussion. I forced myself to smile back. (We live in a hopeless and pretentious world.)

“How was school, Aria?” My dad asked, his gaze penetrating.

Fine and dandy thanks, Dad!

My smile flickered. I didn’t want to tell him or Mum about what had happened earlier.

“It was all right I guess,” I hated lying, but I had to do it to cover up what had happened in school. “My English teacher was chuffed with my homework and praised me afterwards. I studied for my physics and biology today at lunch time.”

“Is everything all right?” This time it was Mum, but her voice was filled with uncertainty at my replies. I could see the concern and worry lined on her face.

I nodded.

“I’m fine,” I widened my smile to convince them, “No need to worry about me.”

With that, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom and grasped the handrail with my sweaty fingers. I hoped that I’d done a good job of lying. There was only eight months left of secondary school before we finally broke up after exams. After that, I would never see any of my arsehole classmates again. No more Connie, Jenny or Chloe. (Good fucking riddance.) For all I cared, they could end up with shitty jobs and shitty lives. I hoped that that was what they were going to get. They would deserve every ounce of a shitty quality life if they ever had one.

Once I was inside my bedroom, I quietly closed the door and walked over to my bed. I sat heavily on it and let out a sigh. I rested my head on my pillow and lay back, letting my body relax for the first time today. The lids of my eyes grew heavy as I succumbed to tiredness, shutting out the little light that leaked through my drawn shut bedroom curtains. My mum had often yelled at me to open my curtains so that I wasn’t sitting in darkness. But I had always preferred the darkness to the sunlight.

“Hi, Aria,”

I glanced up from my computer screen to see Sophia Wells from my maths and science classes in the doorway of the science laboratory, the strap of her satchel slung over her shoulder. Sophia was one of the few students in my year who I respected greatly. She was a petite and sweet-natured girl who worked hard to earn the A* grades she deserved.

“Hey, Sophia,” I let a ghost of a smile tug lightly at the corners of my lips.

Sophia smiled back.

“Do you know where the biology controlled assessments are?” Sophia glanced at the grey filing cabinet behind me. “Are they in there?”

I nodded.

I watched as Sophia walked over to the filing cabinet and attempt to open one of the drawers. It didn’t budge.

“Are they kept in here?” she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, unsure of where the biology teacher stored the controlled assessments.

Sophia’s eyes suddenly widened when she caught sight of my computer screen. Her face seemed to light up when her eyes landed upon the open Word document displayed across my computer screen.

“Oh, wow!” she exclaimed, “Are you writing?”

I let my gaze slip to the floor to avoid eye contact. An intense heat spread through my cheeks. I nodded numbly in answer to Sophia’s question.

“I read one of your stories on Facebook the other day,” Sophia continued. I looked up in surprise. “It was really good. I really liked it.”

“Heh,” I whispered. The burning in my cheeks had intensified, “Thanks.”

“Is that a novel you’re writing?” I could hear the curiosity outlined in Sophia’s voice. Something inside me seemed to move. This was the first time that a classmate had ever shown an interest in my writings.

I nodded, clutching the sides of my desk. My knuckles had turned bone-white from the tension.

“Will you let me read it once you’ve finished it?”

At that moment, I could not find the words to describe my emotions. My emotions seemed to fuse together as one, leaving me lost for words. Instead, I nodded again.

“That’s fantastic!” Sophia beamed. Her eyes seemed to laugh along with her smile. “I guess I’ll see you around then. Have a good day.”

I smiled.

“See you around,” I whispered as she turned towards the doorway. I wasn’t sure if she had heard my words or not. My gaze returned to my computer screen once more.

“And Aria…”

I looked up from my computer screen to see Sophia standing in the doorway again.

“If you need to speak to someone or anything, you can always speak to me.”

At hearing Sophia’s words, I felt nothing but astonishment. I opened my mouth and tried to speak but it seemed to be that my voice had abandoned me, rendering me unable to talk. Instead of receiving grateful words in return, I nodded once more.

Tears prised their way through my eyelids and slid down the sides of my face into my pillow at remembering Sophia’s words from a few days ago. Her words had moved me deeply, leaving me astonished and speechless by her kindness and concern. No other classmate of mine had showed concern or kindness as Sophia had done before.

That had been the first time that anyone had ever tried to reach out to me.