After my father finished his lunch and left the dining room, I still wasn't full.
Unfortunately, my mother forced me to stop eating.
Which was a shame. I was still hungry.
So I didn't understand why I was now kneeling in front of the toilet, throwing up everything I had eaten.
I gagged and retched while tears continued streaming down my face.
Looking at the mess in the toilet bowl, I realised just how much food I had consumed.
I kept vomiting as if my stomach couldn't make up its mind. Starving, yet unable to keep another bite down.
By the time I flushed the toilet and slid down against the open bathroom door, my body felt weak.
I remembered stress-eating when I first ran away from Rafael while pregnant.
I hadn't thrown up then. So I thought this was the same thing.
Turns out I was wrong. A bitter smirk tugged at my lips.
Of course you didn't throw up back then. You were feeding four humans, you stupid bitch.
"Such a waste of perfectly good food."
