Fat as Hell

This story contains mature themes, including mature language, self-harm, physical violence, and mental health concerns. Reader discretion is advised.

There she was. Fat as hell. Good.

I was really hoping she’d notice my new hot body. How could she not? I’d lost 150 pounds in the last eight months. The sun was out so the guns were out.

I took an earbud out and shouted, “Hey fatty!” as I ran by her. My white tank top fluttering in the breeze.

The diet had been working. Good god I looked stunning.

Looking up from her book I could see there were tears running down her cheeks. God her cheeks were fat. Awesome. I loved how much better than her I looked.

“What’s the matter fatty, drop your doughnut?”

“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE KYLE!” she shouted back before continuing to sob.

“Aww. Come on Patricia, I’m just having a little fun. I mean I’d say you look good, but you’d know that’s a lie. How many pounds have you put on since I saw you last? 100? 200?”

“You’re such a FUCKING ASSHOLE!” she screamed in my face–eyes red with rage. She turned to walk off and I followed her.

“Aww poor baby’s crying. Why don’t you tell me what’s the matter? You know I always used to make you feel better. You didn’t used to be so sensitive.”

“My dad just died Kyle. And you’re being a piece of shit! I don’t need this right now!” She stopped walking away for a moment and looked at me like she was resisting the urge to ask for a hug. So I hugged her.

“There–there, fatty. It’s ok. He probably hated you anyway.” I cooed.

She pushed me away and I went flying. It was a bit embarrassing to be tossed on my ass by a woman a foot shorter than me, but I have to say she did have the weight advantage.

She stuck her middle finger up and stormed off.

Haha. That was great. What a bitch.

I continued on my run and headed back to my apartment. I opened the fridge and grabbed some celery. I started chewing and punching myself in the stomach while tears streamed down my cheeks. I walked to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror to watch myself cry.

“Fucking stupid! You’re fucking stupid! I hate you! Why are you such a piece of shit!?” Celery flecked the mirror. This had become my daily ritual.

I had stopped eating my usual burgers and pizza about eight months ago.

Since then I’d slowly eliminated anything remotely enjoyable from my diet. Most days now I just chewed stalk after stalk of celery, or had a giant bowl of spinach with sliced tomatoes. I hated tomatoes.

I actually hated pretty much everything I ate now. And whenever I did eat, I’d think of her–Patricia. She was the reason I decided to lose weight.

I was always a fatty. Kids teased me about it from the time I was little. Patricia ended our engagement because she said I was so unhealthy, she didn’t think I’d be around to raise kids if we had them.

Now the tables had turned. She’d put on at least 50 lbs.

I’d heard about her dad’s cancer a while back, and I guess she ended up taking care of him while he was sick.

Good. Now it was her turn to suffer.

I brushed the celery from my teeth, making sure to take breaks to call myself names in the mirror while I stared myself down.

The next day I went running through the park again hoping to see her. I’d run through the park beside her apartment building every day for the last 3 months, and yesterday I’d finally had my chance to see her.

I had rehearsed in my mind over and over what I would say when I saw her. I always thought I would tell her how much I loved her and how much I missed her. How empty existence was now that she was gone. I hadn't expected what came out of me instead.

There it was. The park bench where she was yesterday. Empty now, with some pigeons around it pecking at scraps on the ground.

I told myself after the run that I wasn’t going to go by her house, and that I’d go straight home and eat my celery. Celibate with celery. That was my motto.

Of course I betrayed myself and stared at her apartment on the fourth floor. The rain was oppressive now and washed the sweat into my eyes. It stung, but I liked it. I loved the pain. I deserved the punishment.

Someone walked into her building and I took the opportunity to go through the open door. The old lady tried to tell me I needed to use my key, but I just pushed her out of the way and spat on her.

Old bag.

How dare she get in my way–who did she think she was?

She’s lucky I didn’t just knife her right there.

No. Not this time. But who does she think she is? I’m young and strong. What was she going to do if I decided she needed to die? She would just die! That’s what! Stupid bitch.

I took the stairs because that’s what alphas do. We don’t take the pussy-ass elevator like some kind of little bitch.

I slapped myself continuously on the way up like I deserved. I chanted, in my mind the whole time:

Pain. Suffering.

That’s what I deserved. That’s what I truly deserved, and I was going to get it.

I really didn’t mean to sit outside her door silently staring – dripping from the rain. How long did I sit there? two minutes? twelve? Could it have been an hour? Time’s a funny thing you know. When you have a singular focus, hours can feel like minutes.

Eventually she opened her door and I lunged at her. I choked her with my bare hands.

She tried to fight me off. She scratched at my face and eyes and got me pretty good. Blood dripped from my face onto hers as I punched her over and over.

I know I was yelling something. I think it was, “I love you. I love you so much!” but the details are foggy.

The next thing I remember is coming-to with her on the kitchen island. It was dark outside now and the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

Somehow in my daze, I’d frozen her corpse and cut it up into little pieces. I was mindlessly bagging them up. Apparently I’d even started loading some of them into the luggage case.

When did I have time to freeze her? How did I do that? Time’s funny that way. Just seems to go by so quickly sometimes.

Whose luggage case was it? I don’t own any luggage cases. I threw everything out when we broke up. All I had was my spin bike in the apartment now. I’d even tossed the bed in favor of sleeping on the cold tile floor.

Pain was all I deserved. Suffering. Yeah. That’s it. Just what I deserved…