---
Later that night, alone in my apartment, I stared at the mirror.
My bones looked like they were about to rip through my skin. My cheeks were hollow. My once-bright eyes looked dead.
"Is this what you wanted?" I whispered at my reflection.
"Is this good enough for you?"
I crumbled to the floor, sobbing silently into my knees. No one was coming to save me. Not Jasper. Not Mom. Not anyone.
---
The next day, during a rare FaceTime with Jasper, I tried to act normal.
"Happy belated birthday, B," he said, smiling through the screen.
His smile — God, I missed it.
"Thanks," I said, adjusting the camera angle so he couldn’t see how gaunt my face had become.
He tilted his head. "You look... thinner. You okay?"
I forced a laugh. "Model life, you know?"
He frowned slightly but didn't push it.
"I miss you," I said, my voice cracking.
"I miss you too," he said, softer now. "I’m flying back next month. We’ll celebrate then, properly."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
But deep down, I wondered if there would even be anything left of me by then.
---
One afternoon, I overheard a conversation that shattered whatever pieces of me were still intact.
I had just finished a small shoot and was heading to the restroom when I heard Sierra’s voice echoing down the hallway.
"God, Brittany looks sick," she laughed. "Like a skeleton wearing designer."
Ace’s voice followed. "Yeah, but at least she’s finally losing that baby fat. Maybe she’ll actually land something big now."
They both laughed.
I pressed my back against the wall, my whole body trembling.
I wanted to storm in there and scream, to tell them they were the reason I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t live.
But I didn’t.
I stayed silent.
Like I always did.
---
