
Summary
Freddie Lynch has grown up being Fatty Leech for most of her life. The one thing she had always longed for was to shed t...
Prologue
Copyright © 2018 by H. M. Irwing
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Facebook-H. M. Irwing
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Prologue
One year back
“High in protein and contains thermogenic formulas…”
I leaned back against the counter and pursed my pouty lips in serious consideration. I studied the description of the guaranteed-weight-loss-within-the-week supplement with some trepidation. It was not as if I had a choice. I was on a deadline. I had weight to lose, and quickly.
It was not prom that had me worried. But a party I was going to attend with my best friend Kyle Lykin. A family gathering in which his hotter-than-hot cousin, Edwin Carr would grace us all with his Greek-God divine presence. Unfortunately, reliable rumour has it that his high-flying fiancée would be in tow. A fortune hunter, that one. Or at least she had to be. Edwin was worth billions. But that was not what drew my own interest in him. No, my infatuation with him ran very unhealthily, and went a long way back. He was more of an obsession really. One that I swore to Kyle, I was over with, and that had been a year back.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t make this last stand. This last attempt to make Edwin see reason and look beyond the chubbs. To look beyond the layers of internal padding and the unique-to-me clumsiness and see the real me. Whoever that was. It was his last chance for the fairytale ending all men secretly longed for. True love in unhealthy abundance.
I glared at the small, unassuming bottle with firm resolve. For the greater good, sacrifices must be made. Even if that meant my downing this glug.
“It could be mistaken for chocolate by less discerning eyes,” I murmured to myself noncommittally, studying the picture on the label. Heaven knows I loved chocolate. It would probably take another web surf to fully convince myself to go ahead with the plan, but that didn’t stop me from going about getting the concoction ready for consumption.
I clattered about the kitchen busily, knowing there would be no one around to be bothered by the sounds. Dad was already at work and I had already convinced him I was too sick for school that day. I shook my head at the assortment of jars that littered the kitchen counter. Dad had worked late into the night, working on his own miracle cure for obesity. It was one of the many projects he was engaged in for the research centre he worked for.
I borrowed one of his unused jars and dumped the contents in. Then busied about getting the rest of the ingredients ready. A final mix later and it was ready to make all my dreams come true.
Here’s to hoping for miracles.
A tinkle from my phone offered me a momentary reprieve.
Kyle: You dog! You owe me one for making me do this alone.
I glanced at the watch; it was still early yet. Kyle would be stuck in PhysEd. I shivered with distaste. I had a lucky miss with that one. Anything was always better if it got me out of PhysEd.
Me: Suck it up!
Tapping away my message of remorse on abandoning him to attend hell alone, I reached an absent hand for the last ingredient to add to the jar. A quick stir later and I lifted the vile-smelling concoction to my lips. A shudder of distaste ran down my spine at the odour. Bile rose to my throat, but I gulped down hard, reaffirming my determination to see this through.
I lifted the jar to my lips. I was ready to down it all in one go. The internet search be damned. It was this or nothing. And then I was glugging down the foul concoction with a gusto that would do Kyle proud. He would have thumped me on the back. It was always the eekiest things that won his respect, and this would be right up there with the very worst of them.
It took a moment for the urge to puke to subside. And a while still for the dry retching after to stop. But it was then that all hell literally broke loose.
If I had ever wondered how death would feel… this would be it. The slow burn crept in unawares… until it drew shrieks of raw agony to ravage at my throat. Then even more until I was too hoarse to cry out in pain anymore. It was hours of flitting in and out of consciousness as pain raked at my trembling frame. Every inch of me sizzled as the pain snapped at my synapses. I had long since fallen into an insensible heap. Sputtering hoarsely and crying tearlessly only to drop back into oblivion when it all got too intense, then rousing only to go through it all over again.
Hour after hour passed and the day drifted into night, but I lay there still, a crumpled heap of twitching limbs that racked sporadically with uncontrolled thrashing. It might have been one of those spastic attacks that finally blacked me out for good, or it could have just been that the end was finally near. But whatever it was, I was grateful for the opportunity to fade away altogether. I stepped away happily into its inviting promise. Willing anything to cloak me from the pain that was determined to have me.
But urgent arms suddenly wrapped about me, rousing me insistently back into my world of unadulterated pain.
“Dad?”
My hoarse cry was soundless as I unseeingly identified the sobbing man who held me. It was a relief to have him near. I could go my way in peace now. Or as peacefully as the pain would allow. But Dad fought my every attempt to simply fade.
“Don’t die on me, Freddie.” He sobbed out. “Don’t you dare die on me, too.”
His hand pressed down on my heart, determined to keep it pumping.
But the fear of death was nothing compared to the fear of the agony. I fought hard to reprise my spot in the darkness. As determined as my dad, but to break free and simply disappear. To blissfully seek that state devoid of pain. The fear of never waking again was of no consequence. I gratefully sank into the inviting depths of oblivion.
“Freddie?”
“Freddie!”
