My Step-mother Starved The Child Out Of Me, So I’m Starving The Life Out Of Her.
Chapter 17: Choices and Consequences
There were bank statements showing Linda had been skimming the lunch money dad gave her for me. She was funneling it into Elellanar’s extracurricular activities.
The theft was small but systematic, documented across years. I presented this evidence carefully, letting Ellanar draw her own conclusions.
“She stole your lunch money.” Ellanar’s voice was hollow.
“While you went hungry, she made choices,” I said simply. “Now we need to make sure she gets the help she needs.”
Linda’s attempt to order pizza that evening was intercepted by our vigilant neighbor, Mrs. Chen. I’d spoken with her earlier about Linda’s food addiction, asking her to watch for delivery vehicles.
“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Chen told the delivery driver. “She’s not supposed to order food. She has a medical condition.”
Linda watched from the window as the pizza disappeared down the street. I stood behind her, close enough that she could feel my presence.
“Mrs. Chen is very supportive of your recovery,” I said. “The whole neighborhood wants to help.”
The isolation was systematic and complete. Every potential ally had been given just enough information to make them unwitting accomplices in Linda’s restriction.
Chapter 18: Cognitive Decline
Dr. Patterson moved up Linda’s appointment after I reported concerning symptoms. In his office, Linda tried desperately to speak directly to him.
“The diet is too restrictive,” she began. “I’m constantly hungry and—”
“She’s been showing increased confusion,” I interrupted smoothly. “Yesterday she insisted she hadn’t eaten dinner when I’d fed her 3 hours earlier. I’m worried about cognitive decline.”
The doctor’s attention shifted to me, the medical professional with credentials and detailed documentation. Linda’s protests were reframed as symptoms of a larger problem.
“We may need to consider more intensive monitoring,” he mused, making notes. Linda’s bridge club called that week, wondering why she’d missed another meeting.
I explained she’d been irritable and demanding lately. I used the exact words Linda had used to describe me to her friends when I was 12.
“It’s the blood sugar fluctuations,” I said sympathetically. “She’s not herself right now.”
The invitation stopped coming after that. Another social connection was severed; another support system dismantled.
The daily weigh-ins became a ritual of humiliation. I pinched her skin to check for dehydration, targeting the same spots where she’d grabbed me years ago.
Chapter 19: The Deal
The bruises that bloomed were carefully documented as areas of concern. “Your skin elasticity is poor,” I noted, pinching harder than necessary.
“Are you drinking enough water?” She nodded quickly, trying to pull away from my grip, but I held on.
I held on just as she had held on to me all those years ago. One morning, I found her staring at herself in the bathroom mirror counting her ribs.
The sight triggered a memory so vivid I had to grip the doorframe to stay steady. Me at 13, doing the exact same thing while Linda watched from this very doorway.
“Vanity is unbecoming,” I said, echoing her words from that day. “You should focus on health, not appearance.”
The irony was sharp enough to cut, but I pushed forward, driven by something darker than simple revenge. I offered her a deal that afternoon.
“Admit what you did was abuse,” I said simply. “Acknowledge that starving a child is torture, not parenting. Do that, and I’ll stop.”
Linda’s jaw set stubbornly. “I was teaching you discipline, self-control. It was for your own good.”
“Then this is for yours,” I replied, reducing her dinner portion by another 50 calories.
Chapter 20: The Expert’s Deception
The medical documentation I presented to Dr. Patterson the following week was masterful in its deception. By misrepresenting Linda’s activity level and metabolic needs, I got approval to reduce her daily intake to 900 calories.
“She’s essentially sedentary,” I explained, showing fabricated activity losses. “And with her slowed metabolism, she needs far fewer calories than we initially calculated.”
He signed off on the new plan without questioning my expertise. After all, I was the nutritionist; I was the one with her best interests at heart.
Linda discovered my college medical records while I was preparing her lunch. The papers trembled in her hands as she read about my hospitalization for refeeding syndrome.
She read about how I’d nearly died from the years of starvation she’d inflicted. “You almost died,” she whispered, looking up at me with something like horror.
“I did die,” I corrected, plating her meager portion. “The girl you raised died in that hospital bed. I’m what grew back.”
The revelation seemed to break something in her, but not enough to admit what she’d done was wrong. Never enough for that.
I revealed another piece of my planning that evening. “Dad’s travel schedule is quite demanding,” I mentioned casually.
Chapter 21: Orchestrated Failures
“Good thing his company values his dedication to that Singapore project, and the upcoming Hong Kong expansion, and the quarterly reviews in London.” Understanding dawned in her eyes.
“You’ve been ensuring he stays busy.” “Of course. A stressed spouse at home would only distract him from important work.”
Every slip in her diet had been carefully orchestrated. I’d leave tempting foods within reach, then document her non-compliance when she inevitably gave in to hunger.
The candy bar I’d planted in her purse, the crackers I’d hidden in her nightstand. All were discovered and photographed as evidence of her addiction.
“You set me up,” Linda accused after I’d found the planted evidence. “You set yourself up,” I replied. “I simply documented your choices.”
Eleanor was forced to choose between believing her mother or the mounting medical evidence. When she sided with me, Linda’s devastation was complete.
“Why would she lie about your health?” Ellanar asked her mother. “She’s trying to help you.”
Linda’s desperate call to Ellanar that night shattered their relationship further. Hungry and frustrated, Linda lashed out, accusing Elellanar of taking my side without understanding the situation.
“You’ve always been controlling about food,” Ellanar shot back. “Even when we were kids you were obsessed with portions and diets. Maybe this is karma.”
