I wake up with a smile on my face. Waking up on Christmas morning with Warner sprawled out next to me in matching grinch PJs was a sight I never wanted to forget. I pull away to get up and check my phone but Warner tugs me back to him so that I'm nestled against his chest. His arms fall around me carefully, as if telling me I can pull away if I really want. But I feel so safe, so warm, that I can't come up with a single reason why I shouldn't stay in his arms.

I press closer, hiding my face in his chest and his arms wrap more tightly around me, his chest rising and falling. My hands come up to rest against his stomach, and the hard muscles tense under my touch. It was as if he was restraining himself, he seemed to do that a lot. It had been months and he still hadn't tried to have sex with me. We had done everything else so I was just waiting for him to let it get that far but he was always restraining himself. I was a virgin, but it wasn't by choice I just never had the chance, so it was concerning that he might think I wanted it to be some special occasion.

My phone buzzes again interrupting my less than holy thoughts, so I begrudgingly untangle myself from Warner's arms to look at it. He groans when I leave his arms but he shifts up and leans his back on the headboard so he can look at me. "Merry Christmas Jules."

"Merry Christmas Warner." I can't hold his gaze long because a wave of emotions overcome me.

Those emotions all leave my body when I read the texts from my mom.

Warner notices my change in mood immediately, "What? What's wrong?" he reaches for me.

"My mom is pissed; I need to go back to my house." I race around his room gathering my dress from last night. I was not putting it back on, so I guess I was heading back in Christmas pyjamas.

Warner did not look happy about me going back there, "Let me drive you back, I'll stay and then I can take you back here for tonight's Christmas dinner."

I mentally smack myself, I forgot I said I would attend Tracey's Christmas dinner. No servers or chefs just close family and I was included.

"She wants me to come alone, I'll text you and you can come when I'm done. I'm sure she just wants to spend some time together. It's Christmas!" I lie.

After bickering for ten minutes, I win like I always do, and go back to my house alone. I walk through the front door and expect my mom to hound me immediately, but I don't see her anywhere.

I spot some Christmas cookies on the counter; they are more for decoration in this household than for eating. But my hand starts to move towards one anyways. It was hard to restrict on holidays, I never had to before.

My hand grabs the cookie just as my mom comes into the room. It's like she has an alarm for when I touch junk food.

"Do you enjoy embarrassing me, Juliet? Is that it?" She looks pissed, her hands are on her hips, and she is glaring at my hand with the cookie, so I drop it.

"No, I don't."

"Then how do you explain last night?"

I thought back to last night, sure I ate some cake, but I didn't do anything obscene. "I didn't do anything." I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. I only angered her.

"You embarrassed me in front of my friends, you blatantly ignored the food I suggested. You pigged out on cake like well... a pig"

My face heats up at the insult.

"And then you left early without so much as a goodbye. You wonder why I never brought you to events before, this is why because you are an embarrassment. I thought you changed but clearly, that's not true."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"I didn't want a daughter like you, but I learned to live with it. The least you could do is listen to me." The way she was looking at me made me feel like I was nothing.

Her words cut deep. Of course, she didn't want a disgusting pig for a daughter.

"It won't happen again."

"Now you need to get rid of all that cake you ate last night. The treadmill is on downstairs." She grabs her car keys and walks out the door before I can respond.

As soon as she is gone my shame turns to anger. Anger at my mom for being so horrible to me, anger at myself for letting her say whatever she wants to me. Anger at myself for eating that cake.

I look at the cookies at the table.

I had already messed up last night, I might as well carry on. I allow myself to take a small bite, and the delicious flavour immediately washes over me. I had really missed eating these. The next thing I knew, I had eaten the whole thing and had started reaching for another one. And then another, and another, until the plate was empty. I hadn't even realized how fast I was eating, it all just seemed to happen without me even being present. I couldn't stop.

I needed more.

I knew where my mom's secret stash was, I open the bottom cupboard and look at all the chips, candy and chocolate I never allowed myself. I figured if I had already messed up today, I may as well make it worthwhile.

My mind is racing with all the things I want to eat. This was a one-time thing, so I had to make it worth it. In my panic, I decided to eat everything.

I rush to my room and change into old Jiggly Juliet clothes to hide how fat I was about to get. Usually, the idea of eating anything that could possibly make me fat was enough to get me to stay away from it. But right now it doesn't bother me as much. There is a voice in my head saying I had already gone off track so I might as well have a cheat day. If I eat this stuff now, I won't want it tomorrow.

I begin with some Cheetos but quickly feel dissatisfied and move on to the chocolate cake my mom bought. I was only going to have one slice of it but after the slice, I have another. Then I just start eating the cake with a fork, not even bothering to slice it. Before I knew it I had eaten the whole cake.

That wasn't enough, so I finish off the Cheetos. Before I know it I have eaten so much I feel ill but I hadn't eaten everything yet. I had to eat it all because I wasn't going to do this again. I needed it all gone.

So, I eat all of it. I keep telling myself I will stop but I don't. I needed it all gone so it would just be one bad day. My insides are rolling. I can't even sit up, I curl up into a ball on my floor clutching my stomach.

Why did I do that?

I didn't feel any better I feel worse. I just ruined everything I worked so hard for. I needed to get the food out of me. I could barely get up so I basically crawl to the bathroom in pain. I don't have to work very hard to get the contents of my stomach out. My stomach is so bloated I am sure it is thanking me for releasing some of the pressure. I keep going until there is nothing else to throw up.

I shakily get up and rinse my mouth with water, then splash some on my face but I still feel sick. I stare into my red-rimmed eyes and scold myself, I lost control today. I sit back on the ground because I am still lightheaded.

I wouldn't let it happen again.

I will fix this; I have to fix this.

I hear the front door open, and fear washes over me. I am still on the bathroom floor. I hear shuffling downstairs and then footsteps towards where I am sprawled out.

My mom swings the door open, she looks between the toilet and me with a look of disgust. In her hand are the wrappers to all of the stuff I binged.

"What have you done?" she drops the wrappers on the floor in front of me and I cringe at the damage I did to our cupboards.

"You ate all those cookies! You ate the entire cake that I was meant to bring tonight! What is wrong with you?" she looks horrified, and it only makes me feel more shame and anger.

"I lost control. It won't happen again. I'm sorry." I want to be angry, I want to scream at her and tell her it's her fault but I can't. I can't do that because all of the anger I am feeling right now is directed toward me.

"I can barely look at you. This is disgusting. Get up! You are coming downstairs." She grabs my arm harder than necessary and pulls me to the basement. This was an all too familiar feeling.

We go downstairs to the home gym like all the times before. The home gym has an entire wall of mirrors and when I see my reflection I cringe. My mom goes into one of the storage containers and pulls out some pictures. I know exactly what they are.

Pictures of me at my heaviest. She used to tape them to the wall so I could look at them when I worked out as motivation.

"I thought we were done with this. But if you need a reminder then here you go" She shoves the pictures in my face and I'm faced with my old self. I used to feel disgusted looking at these pictures, my chubby cheeks and the rolls on my stomach. But now I stare at the pictures and I just see a happy kid. A kid who didn't starve herself on Christmas.

"Do you want to look like this again?" She waves the photos in front of me like some sort of treat.

My self-loathing stops for a second and I direct my anger at her. I hit the photos out of her hand to get them out of my face and the shock on her face is worth it.

"What is wrong with you?" she bends down and hastily picks up the pictures.

"You! You're what's wrong with me. You did this to me" I yell

"Me? You are the pig who ate an entire cake to yourself. But of course, this is somehow my fault. God, you are so ungrateful."

"I have been killing myself trying to get you to like me, to be proud of me" my voice breaks and I turn away from her, so she doesn't see how much pain I am in. She says nothing and the words start spilling out of me.

I gesture around the room, to the photos of me on the wall, to the workout gear "This isn't what moms are supposed to do. You're supposed to love me no matter what I look like."

"How dare you blame this all on me! You're being dramatic, it is not my fault you have no self-control. You have no right to be angry at me."

"Yes, I do. I am angry at you for being ashamed of me. I am angry at you for making me feel so fucking worthless. This whole year I have been hoping you would look at me, really look at me and see how messed up I am. Why won't you look at me? Why can't you see I have a problem?"

I'm hyperventilating at this point, she isn't getting it. She isn't getting how fucked up I am, how fucked up she made me. She is just staring at me like I am some spoiled brat like she has done nothing wrong. I want to scream at her.

"You think I wanted a daughter like you? I have worked so hard to help you improve yourself. Do you think you would have a boyfriend like Warner if you looked like you did a year ago? Do you think you would have the friends you do? You don't have a problem, Juliet, you are being dramatic. The only problem you have is you don't know when to say no to desserts."

"I do have a problem; I have an eating disorder and you did this to me."

She looks me up and down, long and hard as if assessing every inch of my body. "You are not skinny enough to have an eating disorder. If you really had one you wouldn't have eaten an entire Christmas cake as a snack."

Her words hit their mark and my legs feel like they are going to give out. I hoped if I told her I had a problem she would understand, maybe even try to help. Not this.

"I am going to Christmas dinner without you. You can stay here and don't bother coming until you sort yourself out. And we both know you ate enough today so you won't be needing any dinner" She breezes past me up the stairs and as soon as she is out of sight, I slide down the wall and put my head in my hands.

Her words ring in my head as I rock gently on the ground.

I wasn't skinny enough. I was a disgusting pig with no self-control.

I was being dramatic. There were people out there in the hospital, people who were actually suffering from eating disorders.

No matter how much I repeat the words I can't get up. When I look into the mirror on the wall, I want to smash it so I don't have to look at myself. I thought if I changed I would hate myself less. I can't live like this anymore.

My phone is ringing, but I don't pick up. I just sit on the ground with my knees curled to my chest and wish I didn't have to feel this way anymore. I wish my mom saw how messed up I was, I wish she would tell me I was beautiful just once.

I don't know how much time has passed but the front door upstairs slams with enough force to shake the floor above me. My mom would not enter the house like that.

Someone upstairs is slamming more doors and I start to get concerned until I hear a familiar voice "Juliet! Where are you?" Warner shouts.

He sounds frantic but I am too weak to answer, I stay curled in a ball on the floor. Next to the treadmill and photos my mom left scattered all over the ground.

Eventually, Warner's footsteps come down the stairs and I don't look up. I don't want him to see how pathetic I am. His steps stop at the bottom of the stairs and he is silent, I assume he is taking in the scene in front of him.

"Jules?" his voice cracks with emotion, and I hear him walk over and kneel down next to me.

My breathing quickens. He must have seen the food wrappers upstairs, the cake. The photos are on the ground next to me. I am so embarrassed, I want to sink into the wall and disappear.

"Breathe, Juliet," Warner's voice is gentle. I am panting, unable to take a deep breath. He pulls my hands from my face with gentle fingers but I don't want him to see me like this.

He has to hold onto my arms as I collapse into him. My breathing is frantic now, my muscles seizing as my teeth chatter.

"I can't," I say as my diaphragm spasms.

Warner cups my cold cheek, "I know," He pulls me in, his arms enveloping my stiff body. "I've got you."

That was all the permission I needed before the gasping tears come in a flood, as Warner pulls me closer.

"You are not alone, Juliet. I'm here," he whispers. "I can take it,"

I sob for a long time until my muscles are fatigued from the straining and shaking. I go limp in his arms. I rest my cheek against his chest and listen to his slow, steady breaths. The sounds of his beating heart.

At this point, I don't want to get up anymore