Page 1 of Dark Notes

CHAPTER ONE

MCKINLEY

A person can only take so much before they break. This day should come as no surprise to anyone. Every event in my life has led to this. It wasn’t simply one thing. This is just the straw that broke the camel’s back. Some people will think I was weak, I’m not. I’ve endured a hell most people will never know, since the day I was born. I survived for twenty-six years, but now I have reached the end. No more. I’ve chosen death on my own terms. It did not choose me. I crank up The Dark Notes on my phone. His voice is the last thing I want to hear. That smooth sound of him singing in my ear, providing me with comfort one last time. I sink into the bathtub, and make the cut. The irony isn’t lost on me. The cut causes so much pain, but in the end it’ll take it all away. I close my eyes and wait. This is the end. You have to find your own peace, and this is mine.

CHAPTER TWO

MCKINLEY

I hate Mondays. Alright, I know everybody hates Mondays, but not like me. I really hate them. That’s weigh-in day. My boyfriend Erik makes me weigh myself in front of him every Monday at eight in the morning. He never forgets or deviates from this nonsense. It’s always the same. I either stay the same weight or I gain. Rarely do I lose, which always ends in Erik scolding me for sneaking food, even though I don’t.

“On the scale, McKinley.”

Instantly, my eyes water. “Please don’t make me.”

It all started with him saying he wanted to help and support me, but it changed quickly. Every time he sees my weight, he gets angrier than the time before.

“Goddamn it, McKinley. Get on the fucking scale. I have to get to rehearsal.”

I sigh audibly as I step onto the scale and he glares at the numbers on the display, then up at me. “For fuck’s sakes, McKinley. What are you eating while I work?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. Only the stuff on the list.”

Erik has given me a list of prescribed foods that I’m allowed to have. There are no carbs allowed except for vegetables, and even those are only allowed in moderation. Every week he goes through my food diary. I have to list everything I consume, even the amount of water I drink.

“There is no way,ifyou’re sticking to the list, that you wouldn’t lose weight. You don’t eat healthy and gain six pounds. One hundred seventy-six pounds, McKinley. This is unacceptable. I don’t fucking date fat women. You’re an embarrassment.”

Grabbing my face in his hand, he squeezes painfully. “No more cream for your coffee. Until you learn how to control yourself, you won’t have that privilege.”

He lets go of me and goes to the refrigerator, taking out my sugar free cream and dumping it down the sink drain. Erik knows my coffee is the last little treat I had. This is punishment.

“I am not eating anything not on the list, Erik.”

Walking over to the refrigerator, he grabs the marker and begins crossing things off the list. “Peas have sugar, so no more. Corn, I said you could have occasionally, but that’s out now.”

What I hate the most is that I cry. Every time, without fail.

“Why are you doing this? Don’t you love me, for me?”

I already know the answer before he opens his mouth to respond, “You’re fat, McKinley. Disgustingly fat. I told you before, I don’t date fat chicks. Get your shit together or I’m out.”

He storms off and walks out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Abuse is a never-ending cycle. For most of us, it starts in childhood and moves into adulthood. It’s not that we don’t want to break it, it’s just that it seems so impossible. For me, it’s all I’ve ever known, so instead of fighting it, I join in.

I grab the marker and write on my leg, ‘Fat’. Then my arm, ‘Disgusting’. Next, my other leg, ‘Repulsive’. They are all words he says about me, but I feel them too, every time I look at myself in the mirror. Nobody chooses to feel like this about themselves. I don’t think anybody wants to loathe the reflection staring back at them, but I do.

Three knocks on the door make me put down my sharpie and throw on a robe. Every Monday, like clockwork, my best friend, Mia, shows up at my door. She will try to appeal to my common sense and get me to break up with him. It’s the same advice I’d give her, but I never follow it myself. The cycle of abuse is vicious, and the more you experience, the more you believe you deserve it.

I open the door to her concerned face and she comes in with coffee. “You have cream, right?”

Shaking my head, I close the door behind me and admit, “Not anymore. Until I start losing weight, I’m not allowed. It’s fine. I’ll drink it black.”

She hands me my coffee and plops down on the sofa.

“Goddamn it, McKinley. This has to stop. I know your history but I don’t get it. Do you want to live like this for the rest of your life? He treats you like a dog. You deserve better than this. Anybody does.”

I take a seat beside her, and she grabs my robe and yanks it, while she stares at the marker on my skin.

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