#the last paragraph was hard to write but i powered through for the art askdjhaskdjfskdjfh

[notstinky]

TIMING: August 29th, 2014, 2017, 2023 LOCATION: Toronto, Ontario (2014, 2017) & Wicked's Rest, Maine (2023) SUMMARY: It's Thea's birthday and she's hungry. (POTW: Once in a Blue Moon) CONTENT WARNINGS: Vomit tw, teeth trauma tw, child death tw, some implicit fatphobia

2014

Cynthia had never seen so much junk food piled up in one place. There were family sized bags of Lay’s chips, plates full of cookies, a tray of brownies, two boxes of garlic bread from the pizza place Cynthia’s dad liked accompanied by a pepperoni pizza from the same place. Someone brought char siu bao, Cynthia’s favourite--probably her aunt. Plates and plates of noodles and fried rice weighed their poor, plastic picnic table down, bending it worryingly in centerfold. She’d happily, though politely, filled her first plate; taking a small assortment of everything offered and doing her best not to dribble saliva everywhere when she asked who brought what so she could remember to thank her family accordingly. The first plate was always strategy; sampling the waters to see what was good before the full, filling second plate and if she was daring, a third. It was her birthday, after all. Maybe it was a third plate kind of day. 

Cynthia reached down to pull a plump pork bun into her plate when she heard someone grumble from behind her. Instantly, she recognised the sound: it was a deep rumble that summoned itself from the dark pits of the lungs, an animal sound that no one else could recreate. “Nainai.” Cynthia twisted, smiling at her grandmother. 

Her grandmother, her father’s mother, was a thin woman with pale skin that stretched over her face in thick folds. Age had turned her spine down, forcing her into a hunch she resented and  twisted her clear voice into a growling like an angry dog. She wasn’t often a pleasant woman, but her love for her children and their children wasn’t a topic that ever needed to be debated; birthday and Chinese New Year envelopes of cash were always stuffed full. She reached down and took the skin around Cynthia’s hip and squeezed. 

Cynthia’s smile faltered. “Nainai,” she said, continuing in broken Mandarin; a child’s voice even though she was certifiably a teenager now, “are you having fun?” 

“You are,” her grandmother responded, turning her pinch into a poke. “You’re too old for this now.” 

Cynthia frowned, the used plate in her hand wobbled as pain erupted from her grandmother’s prodding fingers. The bun slipped from her hand and joined its friends on the plate. “Too old?”

Her grandmother pulled the plate from her hands. “Once is enough.” And then she was gone, dissolved into the bodies of her family and their friends. 

Cynthia didn’t know what to do, her stomach wasn’t satisfied. During the night, she thought it was eating her from the inside, trying to feed itself on her paltry flesh.

—

2023

Thea had a system, a technique. There was a method to wrapping hardware-store-chain around a tree, slipping inside, and then pulling it tight around her. Most of the time, it worked. Sometimes, she didn’t do it right. One time she ripped the tree out from the ground, roots and all. Bit by bit, she was perfecting her strategy. Having her body snap into a new shape every month wasn’t something she could get used to and it would never be something she liked, but there was peace to be found in the mundane actions of a practiced routine.

She’d tried everything: crates, rooms, basements, handcuffs, gorging herself on meats prior to the turn, sleeping pills, a cave, a roof, asking really nicely, crying, prayer, looking up cures online, cages, making herself look like an idiot by asking for cures in person, some restraints that definitely seemed like they were for kinky sex stuff. Nothing worked but her technique made it easier. If she went deep into the woods, found the thickest tree, kept a bag with a change of clothes nearby (scented strongly with oranges so she could find it through the stench of leaves and dirt) she could manage something. She’d still eat something, she’d still hope that something wasn’t human, she’d still hurt, but she could go home and crawl into bed and forget about it. 

“Happy birthday to me.” Thea pulled her dirty green backpack closer, unzipping the top pocket and pulling out a single cupcake contained in a plastic box. At the store, she thought a candle would have been overkill but now she missed the drama of blowing one out and she could certainly use the wish. Sugar filled her nose, followed by the punch of strawberry jam; her sense of smell turned even the greatest delicacies into a nightmare of sensations. Sugar was too sweet, it made her teeth ache just thinking about it; fruits were tart; spice was a fire shoved into her nostrils. If it wasn’t her birthday, she wouldn’t have gotten it but traditions were traditions and nothing brough Thea more peace. 

Her tongue darted out, lapping up the whipped cream and pulling it into her drooling mouth. The fat melted against her tongue as sugar coated her teeth. All the delicate air that had been whipped into it disappeared as it went down her throat, cooling her esophagus. She unclenched her jaw, eager for another bite when she heard it. 

Snap.

Probably just an animal.

Crunch. Heartbeats that went quickly: thump-thump-thump. Laughter. 

Thea paled and from the row of trunks in front of her, three heads popped out, each of their gazes snapping on to her. Laughter died from their lips and smiles turned thin. Thea thought she might laugh instead, the three of them looked like something out of an outdoor equipment catalogue: a handsome, tall man with the sort of square jaw that seemed to only exist in fiction; a more attractive, tastefully not-as-tall-as-the-man woman with her blonde hair tied up into a ponytail that betrayed none of the effort of hiking; and a child with soft blonde hair that fell around his head in tiny waves and big, watery brown eyes; each of them wore blue hiking gear, and both of the adults carried big bags while the man wheeled around a cooler. The child ran at the woman’s legs, clutching her calf tightly. They looked like the sort of people that people missed; the sort of people that made sensational headlines, tacky true crime documentaries, conspiracy theory youtube videos. 

Thea hadn’t smelled anyone on her way up but it was hard to pick scents out from the cacophony of them that she got constantly. She hadn’t heard them either, not until they were right here, and she wasn’t very good at picking sounds out from the barrage of little nature noises. 

Thea balked. “I--um…”

The man spoke up first: “Hello,” he said. “Can we help you?”

“It’s uh…” Thea wasn’t a good liar on the best of her days, on the worst of them she could give a puddle a run for its money. Instantly, cool sweat pooled in the small of her back and her palms felt sticky. “I’m, uh…” She remembered an episode of The Simpsons where Lisa lived in a tree so they wouldn’t cut it down. “Environment conservation,” she said. 

The man nodded slowly. “Are they going to cut that tree down?” He didn’t seem to believe her, Thea could tell because she heard his heartbeat quicken and she smelled sharp sweat--though, that could have just been her. 

“Yes,” she said quickly. “That’s exactly it!”

“Okay.” The woman pushed the man forward, stabbing her hiking stick into the dirt as she moved along. 

Above, the sky darkened. The sweat that concentrated on her back now pushed out from every pore, running down her body in thick rivulets. “Uh,” she called out, “wait.”

The woman didn’t want to stop but the man turned to her, using his body to block the child and the woman.  

“It, uh, It isn’t safe here,” she said, “bears.” 

The man tapped a can on his belt: “bear mace” it read. Of course, they seemed like they had all the bells and whistles of a responsible camper. 

“N-no, I’m serious.” Thea tried again. “Like, super serious! It’s really dangerous! You have to go back. You have to go the other way.” 

The man nodded slowly again, his eyes narrowed. “Why are you here then?” 

She didn’t have a good answer for that.

They turned to leave once more and Thea jerked against her chain, her cupcake slipped from her hands and sunk into the dirt. “No!” she shrieked, wincing at the shrillness of her voice. The family continued to move. Above, the burning edge of the sunset was dissolving into blue. Thea lurched against the chain again and the metal gouged into her flesh, slicing her clothes and pinching her muscles. “No! I’m serious! Go the other way! Go back!”

They continued to push through the trees. Above the crackle of leaves under their perfect hiking boots and the pulse raging in Thea’s ears, she heard the woman say: “we should pitch the tent before it gets dark.”

And the man: “I don’t want to be anywhere near the girl.”

The woman: “It’s getting dark, we don’t have a choice.” 

“No!” Thea howled, twisting and pulling on the chains; her technique was too good, she couldn’t get out. She writhed against the tree, bark scraped her back, digging in like the claws of an animal. The chains seem to tighten with each motion; they squeezed against her bones and her body erupted with aches and sharp stabbing pains. “Go back!” 

Above, the sky turned black and the moon hung above, bright and beautiful and demanding. 

—

2017

“Fuck.” 

Cynthia’s life was thoroughly ruined and it had been her own, stupid, hands that had done it. She’d been talking to Leslie about the recent total solar eclipse, which she could tell Leslie wasn’t really interested in hearing about—she did that thing where she absently picked dirt under her nails and flicked it away, the same thing she did in math class—but Thea couldn’t stop the excited drool of words that spilled from her mouth. She’d ordered only one pizza when she’d meant to order two. One pizza for four people wasn’t so bad until you remember that this was a pack of ravenous teenage girls; the sort that deliberately packed and ate dainty lunches at school so they wouldn’t get comments. Leslie ate a bag of chips for lunch. Zainab had water and an apple. Jalisa had leftovers from last night’s dinner but she only ate half of it. 

Due to an ill timed volleyball meet, Cynthia hadn’t eaten anything at all. 

One pizza wasn’t enough. To make matters worse, she’d tipped the pizza delivery man ten cents when she thought the machine was doing percentages. Fuck. He probably thought she was an asshole. She was an asshole. Fuck. 

The pizza box trembled with the earthquake that was Cynthia’s body. She thought about throwing herself down on the floor, subjecting herself to the mercy of her friends, who were crowded around the tiny coffee table trying to play Catan. 

“You can’t do that,” Jalisa said, gesturing at the hex-tile board. 

“Why not?” Zainab blinked. “I think that’s a legal move.” 

“Nuh-uh, ‘cause I was gonna go there. So, you can’t.”

“What are you talking about? This is a competitive game, we’re competing.”

“I thought it was cooperative.” Jalisa grinned sharply; trap set.

“You’re so dumb.” Leslie piped in now. She was, as per usual, winning. “Why would you think that? We literally have our own pieces. There’s only one winner.” 

Jalisa's trap snapped shut; her joke executed: “So,” she said, grinning like a hyena. “...we’re not cooperating to let me win?” 

“Where did the gray man go?” Zainab asked. “There’s supposed to be a gray man.” 

“Why do we play these?” Jalisa nudged the table with her knee, undoing the delicate work of Leslie’s road, which she would, as per usual, be awarded ‘the longest road’ for. “No one’s good at them ‘cept Leslie and you and Cindy argue about rules for like two hours.” 

“Because,” Zainab sighed, “Cindy likes them, and it’s her birthday so just—“

“Cindy!” Leslie rose, holding her hands out to help with the pizza and the jostling cups of garlic dip and box of brownies. 

Cynthia set everything down on the table, right on top of the Catan pieces, knocking them out of place. “Pizza!” she exclaimed, anxiety tying her stomach up like roller skates, which her skin coincidentally felt like it was being trampled with. She flicked open the box, sending more game pieces to the ground, and let the aroma of cheese and the only topping they could all agree on, green bell peppers, waft into the air. Half was done up with chilli flakes while the other was speckled with mushrooms. Zainab fetched plates while Jalisa carefully peeled open the containers of garlic sauce. 

The twenty dollars her dad had given her to order food for today, which she had deposited into her bank account on the way to school so she wouldn’t have to carry cash, wasn’t really enough for the grand idea of cheap pizza and brownies that Cynthia had. But now that she was sixteen she could get a job, and she’d have real money to order better, bigger pizzas instead of the allowance her dad gave her and the odd burst of money her mother did when she remembered that she existed and then felt guilty about forgetting her but only for as long as it took her to transfer money. 

Each of her friends took a polite and sensible singular slice except Cynthia, who took the plate Zainab offered her and walked it back into the cabinet where it belonged. 

“You’re not going to eat, Cindy?” Leslie called out, picking at the bell peppers even though she said they were okay and she liked them. Cynthia’s stomach churned; she knew Leslie was a picky eater, she could eat more hot sauce than any normal human but she didn’t like vegetables. She’d fucked up and people who fucked up needed to be the ones who made sacrifices. 

“I’m not hungry.” Cynthia’s stomach scraped against her body, howling. “I ate a lot when I came home.” 

—

2023

Thea heaved, a cold, pale, naked and sweaty lump on the ground. She groaned, clawing at her bloated abdomen. Thea twisted, pushing herself up to a sitting position. Once her body sensed a state of up-rightness, Thea curled into herself as bloody globs of saliva dripped from her open mouth. Something twisted up her throat and she gagged, spilling two small, hard circles into the mud below. She gagged again, reaching a filthy, blood-crusted finger down her gullet. She pulled and tugged and felt something slither out of her mouth. Tendrils still hung from her lips as she looked down.

Two tiny molars and a long string of blonde hair. 

Her stomach growled and the desire to have a burger flooded her mind.

#i meant to post this sooner but sadkjfhaksdjfh #pretend i did this on her birthday #writing #s1 #solo #hunger #vomit tw #teeth trauma tw #the last paragraph was hard to write but i powered through for the art askdjhaskdjfskdjfh #child death tw