Rihanna waited at the lunch table, waiting for Ella to finally get back. She wasn’t going to eat anything, but it was one of Ella’s favorite mealtimes, so she sat with her every day. Behind her, a small group of BED reps were laughing. She hated it. She hated all of them. Ella was one of the more tolerable ones in her eyes.
“Quiet down, fatheads.” Rihanna hissed.
“Hey, you know her?” one guy asked her, pointing at Ella.
“Yeah,” she said, gritting her teeth. “It’s just Ella.”
“You know how she died?”
Rihanna was going to snap something back, but paused. Ella hadn’t told her how she died, actually. Ella knew how she died, but Rihanna didn’t know about her roommate’s death. Rihanna kept silent and the guy continued.
“I heard she died from stuffing her face too much and choking on a hot dog.”
“Bullshit,” said the woman beside him. “I heard she ate one too many meals in a row at the Heart Attack Grill.”
“You guys got it all wrong,” said the third guy. “I heard she kicked the can when she had such a large binge that she exercised for hours on end that made her body give out.”
“You’re full of shit, Charles,” the woman said.
“Hey, it’s just what I heard.”
The group of people got up and left, and Ella sat down with her arms full of food, and started eating. Rihanna put her phone away and side-eyed her friend.
“What were you talking about with those guys?” Ella asked.
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Hey Ella, I told you how I died, right?”
“Mhm, I remember.”
“Did you ever tell me how you died?”
Ella slowed down eating and gave Rihanna a shameful stare.
“They were talking about my death, weren’t they?” she asked.
“So what if-”
“Ugh, I’m tired of it!” she shouted in a fit of unexpected anger, slamming the table and making both the food and Rihanna jump. “All the BED reps always spreading that I died in the most humiliating ways possible!”
“Well… how did you die?”
Ella gave another shameful glance before getting up and, for the first time that Rihanna had ever seen, left her food sitting.
“Why should it matter to anyone?!”
Ella ran away, leaving Rihanna sitting with all that food that she sure wasn’t going to eat. It also left her with the question of what her roommate was hiding. And how she was going to get back home; no way she could walk it on her own.
* * * * *
“Hey, bitch!” Rihanna shouted, marching into Ella’s room sweating and shaking. Ella was running on a treadmill that was always in the corner. “Why’d you run out on me?!”
Ella ignored her, keeping her eyes forward and not breaking her run. She had earbuds plugged in her phone. Rihanna grabbed the phone from her back pocket and threw it on the bed.
“You can listen to fucking Billy Joel some other time!”
“Just leave me alone!” Ella snapped. Rihanna hardly saw her like this unless she hadn’t eaten something in over two hours. Rihanna unplugged the treadmill and leered her in the eyes.
“What is WRONG with you?” Rihanna growled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she scoffed. “You’re the one who calls me ‘fatass’ and ‘dump truck’ all the time.”
“Yeah, cuz it’s funny. It’s what we do. You ran out on us, and that’s not you.”
“What do you know?! I thought you were different, but you’re like the rest! All joking about how Ella died in the stupidest ways possible!”
“Then just tell me how you died, dumbass!” Rihanna shouted, throwing her hands up. “It’s not hard to just say!”
“Why does it matter?!”
“If it doesn’t matter, then why are you hiding it?!”
“Because I killed myself, alright?!”
Rihanna and Ella stared at each other, breathing heavily. Ella’s angry and bitter expression fell back into a shameful one.
“I couldn’t take everyone telling me to quit the binge eating and just be normal anymore, and the guilt I felt… In my last binge I put a bunch of cleaning chemicals in my sandwiches and soup and… I was dead before anyone even found me. I don’t really go around telling people…”
“Hey,” Rihanna said, walking right up to Ella. She put a gentle hand on her shoulder and slapped Ella across the face, stunning her. “I don’t really give a shit how you died. You walk out on me again, you’re dying twice, got it?”
Ella gave a bit of a smirk and eventually started to chuckle, and into full on laughter. Even though her face was turning red from the slap, she couldn’t stop giggling.
“You got it,” Ella smiled.
“Good,” Rihanna said, strutting out of the room. Before she walked out, she glanced over her shoulder. “And Ella, your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thanks, dumb Brit.”
“Anytime, fatty.”
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