The alarm rung waking Isaac up from his dreamless sleep. It was just another day, another opportunity to make money for their ever growing debt. The bills were piling up, they didn’t need to pay for rent as they owned the house but they were still neck deep in bills. Light, water, electricity, utilities, food, insurance, he swears the list grows bigger every time, internet, phone, gas and of course, Lauren’s medical bills. Lung transplant, they weren’t working very well and she needed new ones. The surgeries and treatments were extremely expensive and the two of them were barely surviving as it is. Except life doesn’t wait for you to be ready. It doesn’t wait for you to have everything in order before throwing something else at you. So extra shifts at the restaurant it is. It’s not too bad, the people are nice and the atmosphere has a feel to it. A lot of standing and exhaustion, very little sleep, but it helped keep them afloat so he can’t really complain can he?

Isaac turns on his phone screen, 5:30am. He’s supposed to get to the restaurant early and prepare before opening. He is late. Isaac jumps out of bed and rushes to get dressed. Shirt, pants, he runs his hand through his hair in search for this vest, ties his shoes and walks out. Isaac walks by Laurens room, checking in on her sleeping figure before continuing into the kitchen.

His stomach turns at the sight of all the pastries sitting on the counter top. So much gluten and sugar, unnecessary calories. He walks over to the fridge, cereal and cookies, yogurt, milk, cheese spread. He forces himself to reach for some grapes, 10 grapes and 5 almonds. Not too bad. He stomachs them, grabs his keys and walks out the house. He’s late for work.

It turns out he’s not actually late for work. He arrived 8 minutes early, he blames the lack of traffic. He takes his time settling everything down, making sure everything from yesterday is clean and ready to go for the new day. He opens the fridge, ready to restock everything, a sugary smell fills the air. It’s disgusting, makes his stomach contract and he’s forced to hold a gag. This is the worst part of his job. Not the standing and aching limbs, not the late hours and lack of sleep or the irritating customers who can’t seem to understand that no, speaking to the manager will not get you a different answer. It’s the food.

You see, Isaac hates food, absolutely abhors it. It is the most disgusting thing in the universe and he refuses to eat more than what is required for survival. He hates the relationship he has with it, the way his stomach rumbles every time he smells Marinara sauce, he hates the way he indulges himself sometimes and decides to try a bit to get the aching to stop. But most of all, he hates the feeling it gives him after the indulgence. After he’s tried some, when he can feel himself digesting it, the calories sitting there, growing heavier by the second with no escape. Isaac hates food. So it’s quite ironic that it’s the thing saving them from crippling debt.

Isaac closes the fridge and walks over to the counter wiping it down. Isaac doesn’t mean to hate food. It just kind of happened on its own. One summer he decided to try on his favorite shirt. It had been a birthday present and he absolutely loved the way it fit his figure, the way the colors contrasted his eyes perfectly and highlighted his skin tone. It was Isaac’s favorite shirt and he was saving it for a special occasion. He wanted to wear it for Laura's dinner, she has high up on the donor list and was very close to getting new lungs, it was a cause for celebration. Isaac had dug through his closet in search of the birthday shirt, a surge of excitement shooting through him the minute he found it. The feeling didn’t last long though, when he came to the realization that he had grown too big for the shirt. The buttons refused to close and the sleeves were tight against his skin. That’s when Isaac first decided to go on his diet.

It was gradual at first. More fruits and vegetables, midnight exercise and walking to work everyday. He gained 4 pounds. Ended up eating more to make up for the lost energy.

Then he drank only water, more protein in each meal and careful with his carbohydrates, no extra eating. This worked for a bit, he lost 2 pounds. But it was too slow, the process wasn’t fast enough.

So Isaac decided he didn’t need dinner, it filled him up with calories he couldn’t burn before bed, adding useless fat to his stomach. This worked faster, less calories, less fat, less weight.

So he continued. Cutting his lunch in half, then breakfast, before eventually all he had in the morning was a bit of fruit and protein, just enough to keep him from getting dizzy when he walked up the stairs again, and however much he felt like eating for lunch that day, never enough to leave him full, feeling bloated and gross.

Isaac walks over to the ovens, finishing up the last details just before his coworkers start streaming into the kitchen.

“Good morning” Cora greets him in her usual patronizing tone.

“Good morning” Isaac replies, not bothering to fake a smile.

He very strongly dislikes Cora. And by strongly dislikes he means he absolutely hates her with his entire being. She’s vain, callous and self centered. She’s convinced the entire world revolves around her and that her emotions are the only ones that matter. Very insincere and manipulative. But most of all, Cora is ignorant. She’s absolutely uneducated, she doesn’t understand that all the negative qualities she has are negative and that’s what irritates him most of all. That she doesn’t feel the need to improve on them.

She is also really condescending. A few weeks ago, Cora found out about Lauren’s medical treatments. She had offered Isaac a job to help pay for the bills, personal door man she had called it. It was really a glorified maid position, he knew it and so did she. Isaac has no problem with working for his money. He would have accepted the job, if he didn’t have a shred of self respect that is. There was absolutely no way in hell he would ever take money from someone as emotionally detached as her. Not when her money was anything but detached, full of hidden strings and complications. No thank you, he’ll happily stick with his restaurant shifts.

His day goes by fairly fast. Not too hard, the orders are a breeze and he’s careful not to fall behind. Isaac doesn’t want to be here longer than he has to. It all goes well until around lunch time. He had just forced down 1/4th of a biscuit and half an orange when he gets the phone call. It’s Lauren.

She’s hyperventilating and her voice is shaking. Isaac tells her to take a couple deep breaths and she complies. Her voice is finally comprehendable after the 4th breath. She explains that the clinic called saying they need the money now. Something about legal contracts and their insurance.

“Can you use the money I left on the counter to tie everything down for a bit?” Isaac asks, his voice calm.

“No, I used that money to pay for the light and water bills, they were going to cut them if we missed the payment tomorrow.” Lauren replies, the panic inching back into her voice.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. We’ll figure something out okay?” He tries, forcing as much calmness as he can to acquire a soothing tone.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She’s crying now.

“It’s okay” he says again, the calmness never leaving his voice. This isn’t he first time he’s had to calm down his sister over their economic issues. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We need light and water.”

“This is all my fault.” Her cries turn to sobs and it absolutely breaks his heart.

“Lauren? Honey? Talk to me?” Isaac tries, the calmness slightly slipping but still there, he can’t let it leave his voice.

“It’s my fault. I’m the reason we can’t pay for anything. Why we’re always behind on payments and why the bank won’t give us loans anymore. Why you have to work all day and why we’re absolutely screwed. All because of me.”

“It is not because of you” Isaac tells her, his voice calm and collected, an unusual strictness to it. “It is not your fault, okay? We have issues and yes they suck but we will get through them. Okay?”

She’s silent, her sniffles are the only sound coming from her end.

“Okay?” Isaac tries again, stronger this time.

“Okay” she replies, her voice soft.

His voice immediately softens to match hers, “I’ll be home as soon as I can okay?”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye.”

A beep emits from his phone and the call is cut.

Isaac knows better. He knows so much better than to ask people for money. But at times of desperation logic is thrown out the window as he’s not left with many choices. He goes through it a million times in his head, switching back and forth from pushing himself to do it and convincing himself this is a bad idea. The pushing wins and so that’s how he finds himself walking up to Cora minutes before closing.

“Hey Cora wait up, I need to talk to you.” Isaac stops her from reaching for her belongings.

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, shock evident on her face. “Okay. What’s this about?”

“I was just wondering” he starts, even less sure of his decision now than he was a few seconds ago, “Wondering if the offer was still available. For um, door man.” He finishes.

“Oh” is all she says, thoughtful. Her eyes never leaving him. “I’m afraid that position is no longer available.”

Isaac’s face visibly drops as all hope escapes his body. How the hell is he supposed to get the money for his sisters treatments now? He swears he sees a smile flash upon her face before disappearing again.

“I do however have an idea in mind.” Cora says, her tone giving nothing yet everything away.

“Okay?” He asks, cautious yet so beyond desperate that he knows if she asked him to murder someone in exchange for money he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“Would you like a pineapple pie?” She asks, offering him a small personal restaurant pie. Small enough to fit the entire thing inside her hand.

“No” He immediately replies. The mere thought of all the sugar inside that thing is enough to make his stomach turn. “I already ate, thank you.”

“Are you referring to those 2 biscuit bites and 3 orange slices?” She asks, not retracting her hand.

“I’m on a diet.” He says, starting to feel uncomfortable with the direction the conversation is going in.

“A diet.” She repeats. She doesn’t believe him, not one bit. Cora may be ignorant, but she’s not stupid. She had suspected his eating disorder a while back and had questioned him about it. Isaac had obviously denied it but she was never convinced.

“I will give you $500 for every pineapple pie that you eat.” She says.

His entire chest drops and he feels his throat tighten. This isn’t funny. Except Cora isn’t joking.

Isaac knows her and he knows that if he eats those pies she’ll hold up her end of the deal. His stomach already feels disgusting but he can’t say no. Lauren needs those treatments, they need the money and there is no way the reason they don’t get it is because he decided to act like a child who can’t break his diet for a single day. Just today, that is all. After today he can go back on and it’ll be okay. He can’t possibly gain all that weight back in one sitting right?

“$500 for every pie, that’s 520 pies. No person can possibly eat that may pies in a single sitting.” He argues. She wouldn’t possibly make him eat that many. He doesn’t think they even have half of that in the restaurant right now.

“Well isn’t that unfortunate” She says. A sense of panic inches up his chest before she speaks again “But okay. I will pay for the entire thing. Surgery and post-surgery.” She stops “If you eat every single pineapple pie we have left.”

“If I what?” Isaac asks, not sure he heard her correctly.

“If you eat every single last one. They’re all going to be tossed anyways and it would be such a waste.” She’s serious.

He glances at the table full of pies, there’s only 16 there. So much less than 520, but not more comforting. The pies are tiny, smaller than a muffin. Yet just the sight makes his skin itch and his mouth go dry.

“What’s the catch?” He asks, skeptical.

Her hidden smile is no longer hidden. “If you leave a single pie uneaten, no matter how small, the deal is off. Absolutely no money.”

Now he really feels his skin start to prick. All or nothing. “What’s in it for you?”

Her smile grows, “I have money and you’re my only source of entertainment.”

He really absolutely very strongly dislikes his woman. He can feel anger start to appear and he pushes it down, forcing a calmness over his body. “Surgery and post-surgery care?” he asks.

“Surgery and post-surgery care. The entire thing.” She reassures.

Okay, yeah. It’s not too bad. This is every kids dream, who wouldn’t die to be able to eat their handmade, personal, special recipe pineapple pies for free. If a 10 year old can do it, he should be able to.

Isaac reaches for the first pineapple pie with trembling hands. He takes a bite and he immediately cringes. He can feel the chunks of pineapple in his mouth, he can taste the filling and it’s too soft. Too mushy and it feels like he’s eating chewed up fruit. It’s absolutely disgusting, sticky and so, so dirty.

He forces himself to swallow, the less he chews the better, less nutrients to process, less sugar broken down and less fat. Isaac shakes his head, he can’t think about the fat right now, he can’t. Because if he does, he won’t be able to finish and he has to finish. He has to do this. Lauren deserves this. They deserve to not have to worry about treatments anymore, if this seriously works out then no more late work nights. No more leaving Lauren alone, no more getting home exhausted and running on 3 hours of sleep, no more guilty feelings and staying up late at night questioning how they’re going to survive that week. No more money problems, no more worries.

Isaac takes a deep breath and full of newfound determination reaches for a second pie.

It takes him a couple hours, it’s way past clock out time but they’re still there. Waiting for Isaac to finish all 16 pies. He’s slow and steady, making sure he doesn’t accidentally regurgitate them and make all this be for nothing.

He finally gets to the last one. There are no words to describe how Isaac feels. Absolute and total shit comes close though. He forces the last one down his throat, just like he did with the rest, but this time it’s quick. Ripping the bandaid off, no anesthesia. It’s the last one and he’s finally finished. No more pies.

Cora stands up, she pats his back and says a couple words he can’t quite understand. His head is fuzzy. She hands him a signed check, it’s blank. He mutters a thank you and she leaves. He carefully places the check inside his wallet, careful not to damage it, he worked hard for that check. Isaac places his wallet inside his pocket and take a couple deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down, his heart is racing.

He did it. He really actually did it. It’s done, it’s solved. It feels unbelievable, the fact that he won’t have to worry about Lauren’s treatments anymore, after this all his paychecks can go towards bills and everyday living. They won’t be struggling anymore. He feels this sense of relief and calmness in his chest. He also feels his throat start itching.

Isaac takes a couple coughs in an attempt to ease the discomfort but it doesn’t do much. He walks over to the fridge, he opens a water and takes a sip. It’s a distinct small relief but there’s an itch he can’t reach. It’s inside his throat and he can’t reach. He has to reach.

He runs inside the bathroom, careful to lock the door although he’s the only one at work and he turns the water on. He rubs his hands together, washing his hands, washing the stickiness away.

He has to be fast, he’s already late and Lauren is waiting for him. He’ll be quick, it’ll just take a couple minutes. He rolls up his sleeves and gets down on his knees, carefully leaning over the toilet. He opens his mouth and reaches two fingers inside in a practiced manner. His gag reflex is no longer respondent as his body has grown used to it. He just needs to get rid of the itching.

He coaxes his fingers, stroking in a small and almost petting manner. Vomit hits the toilet bowl, chunks of pineapple distinguishable in the mix, but it’s not enough, he feels full. Isaac needs to get rid of them. Of the contents sitting in his tummy, slowly sticking to his stomach as the seconds pass by. He needs to get them out before his intestines start breaking the nutrients down, before it’s too late.

He can feel the pies heavy in his stomach. He grows more desperate in his thrusts, they are no longer calm and coaxing. This time they’re rough and he just needs to feel empty again. He’s too full. More contents spill into the toilet but it’s not enough. Harder and rougher, faster. He’s gagging around his fingers, dry heaving at this point. He has nothing left to give. It’s not enough.

He spits into the toilet and scrambles across the bathroom, back to the water bottle from earlier. He chugs the entire thing. He fills it back up in the sink, drinking every last bit of the water once again.

He feels more than full, his stomach is stretching, bigger and bigger, and it’s going to explode. He kneels back down in front of the toilet, this time when he empties himself water and stomach acid come flooding out. This throat is burning but he can’t stop. He needs to release it. All of his insides, he feels so full. Full of so many emotions, all kept inside so he could make room for Laurens emotions too. So he could stay calm and collected for the both of them. But it’s over now and he can breathe again. He can get rid of the overwhelming feeling inside now.

He shoves his fingers down his throat, a bit rougher than last time. After the sixth time there’s no more stomach acid, no more water. He doesn’t stop. He still feels full. He’s dry heaving again but his time something else comes out. Blood. It’s mixed in with his spit and he’s not stopping. He needs to feel empty. He thrusts his fingers until his fingers can reach the back of his throat, until his nails can scrape at the itch he’s feeling. The itch to empty himself, to get rid of it all.

He doesn’t stop until there’s no water left to heave, no contents left to spill, no fullness to get rid of. Until breathing hurts, until every breath feels like he’s swallowed glass and he’s thrown into a cough attack, newfound blood on the palm of his hand. He leans his head on his arm, alternating between panting and coughing. His throat is raw, so so raw and his forehead is sticky and he needs to shower. But it’s okay, he doesn’t feel full anymore.

Isaac drives home a bit after he cleans himself up the best he can. He’s exhausted and he’ll deposit the check first thing tomorrow morning. Right now he just needs to shower and get some sleep. He unlocks the front door and starts to call out for Lauren, stopping himself when he feels the pain shoot up his jaw. His throat is raw, he can’t scream. It’s okay, it’ll probably be okay by morning once he’s slept. He feels absolutely disgusting, he needs to shower.

He hops into the burning hot shower, washing away the smell, the blood, the stickiness, the grossness. He needs to feel clean again.

After his long shower, he goes into his room to change. Sweatpants and no shirt, he can’t be suffocated right now. He dries his hair and goes to Larens room to say goodnight. Relief fills his insides. After tonight he can finally tell her that they don’t have to worry about paying the bills anymore, everything is taken care of now, they can finally breathe again.

He checks inside her room. She’s not there. Where is she? He checks the bathroom. Not there. Kitchen, not there. He grows frantic, yells out her name. Isaac’s throat is burning and his vocal cords feel like they’ve been cut with a really uneven dirty knife, but he ignores it and keeps screaming out for her. He needs to find her. He goes upstairs, they don’t go there. That’s where their parents bedroom use to be before they died.

He has to check everywhere though before he goes to the police. He runs up in a hurry to check it off the list and get it over with. He looks around. There’s nobody there. He gets his phone out and dials 911, ready to call in a missings person report. Is that what you’re supposed to do? He doesn’t know or care. He just knows he needs to find her.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“Hello, hi.” Isaac starts off. “I would like to report a mi-”

A noise distracts him mid sentence, it’s coming from the bathroom, relief rushes to his head.

“Nevermind” he takes it back, “have a good day.”

He hangs up and walks towards the bathroom. “Lauren, what on earth are you doing up here? You had me worried sick.”

He stands outside the bathroom, he can hear the bathroom fan going off. He knocks. “Hey, can I come in? I have news to tell you.”

He receives no response.

“Lauren?”

Isaac looks down to find water on the floor. It’s flooding over. Panic rushes over him.

“Lauren?” He asks again, more desperate. He reaches for the door handle and finds it unlocked. Isaac pushes the door and walks inside. Laura is there, in the bath. She’s laying in the bath and there’s blood. So much blood. Why is there so much blood?

It takes his brain a minute to process. He runs over to the bath, a string of curse words leaving his lips. He’s just saying nonsense now, trying to make sense of what’s happening. She’s there. She’s there and she’s in the bath and there’s so much blood and she isn’t breathing and why isn’t she breathing? They can finally afford new lungs. She’s supposed to be breathing.