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Challenge of the Month IV: February
The Villain. Some villains may be innately evil. Others may be the product of unfortunate circumstance. Still others may simply be misunderstood - heroes willing to do the unsavory, but ultimately necessary deed. Tell the tale of a villain. Fiction or non-fiction, poetry or Prose. $100 purse to our favorite entry. Outstanding entries will be shared with our publishing partners.
kkline120
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The Villain Inside

“You fat loser. Your big, useless self is taking up enough space as it is. Don’t you dare.”

The villain is back. She is loud this morning. Yesterday she was quieter. Almost made me believe I was in control. But she was just messing with me. She is in control. She was and always will be in control.

I stare down at the bowl of cereal in front of me. I didn’t add any milk. I thought that might be a compromise and please her enough to let me have it. It is just a bit of cereal-one half cup to be exact. 70 calories, at most. Is that really so bad?

“What if you start saying that about everything? Just one sandwich? Just one piece of pizza? Just one cookie? And, then just one more? Then it’s every day? Calories will add up quickly you know and you will ruin everything we have worked for. You dumb bitch.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my head. It feels too heavy-with weight and thoughts-to hold up. In doing so, I realize that my neck aches and I place a hand on it for comfort. My head spins and my heartrate accelerates as I continue to negotiate my first meal of the day. I know I should eat. I know I am being irrational. A human body needs calories to operate just like a car need gas in the tank. I know this. I am a smart woman. And, yet…

“I’m too tired for this.” I think, but of course, she hears.

“Too tired? You slept for a full seven hours last night and you haven’t been to the gym in two days. Other people do way more than you on less sleep. You have no right to be tired. The fact that you just said that is all the more reason why you don’t deserve what’s in that bowl. Just walk away, fat slob.”

The voice is almost audible. It is my voice, of course, but angrier and more hateful than I have ever spoken out loud. I would never direct such insults at anyone else, yet I’ve hurled them at myself so regularly that they’ve attached themselves to me-to my self-worth. They burn and sizzle at my skin like hot coals. The burn hurts at first, but then I like it. It is a reminder that I can overcome hardship. I can withstand the abuse and I am stronger than hunger. It is also proof that I can still feel. I haven’t gone completely numb. Although, wasn’t the numbness part of the initial appeal? I don’t know anymore. Either way, she has won again. I pour the cereal back in the box so as not to waste any food. See? I am a good person. I am okay, right?

“Yes, good girl. Everything will be okay. Good girl.”

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