Emmett wouldn’t lower himself to insulting Aaron’s kink. It was Emmett who was the problem, his body. “Forget it.”
He wasn’t sure how much longer the relationship, or realistically the job, would last. If Aaron didn’t fire him, the leadership might. They weren’t happy to learn that he and Aaron were dating but seemed far more disturbed by his sudden weight gain, judging by how they keptexpressing “concern” for his “health.” (“This is a big job,” Aaron’s boss had said, cornering Emmett at the vending machine. “Are you sure you’re up to it? If there’s anything you want to tell us, we’re here to talk.”) The hourly staff didn’t even feign compassion; every time Emmett left his desk, whispers and laughter followed in his wake.
That, he could handle. Emmett was used to being judged and ridiculed. What was new was having someone else’s reputation to think about. The pettiness seemed to get to Aaron. He said nothing was wrong, but he’d been distant for weeks, and the few times they’d met up outside work, things between them were stilted and affectionless, the sex transactional and cold.
Emmett turned to his followers to fill the void, reposting old photos and videos. Engagement dwindled, and people complained about the lack of new content. His coaching business had all but dried up.
Reluctantly he returned to the gym, dragging Lizette back with him to film a reel of him running full-out on the treadmill, the worst of his returning flab smothered in an oversize hoodie. His caption read:You can’t run from your problems but you can run toward a better you.
Even the kindest comments were brutal.
ericfitlaWe all slip up. Good to see you haven’t GIVEN up. You got this!
heatherette478What happened you were doing so well
jackattack7Whoops, looks like you might’ve had one too many burritos there, burrito connoisseur
Whatever. All big accounts had haters. It was the tax they paid on all that love.
Still, Emmett rewrote his bio to remove all mention of burritos.
He continued to post, garnering still fewer likes and more disappointment and anger than he’d thought possible. A feud broke out in the comments after a troll called him a “fat loser,” with one of his regulars jumping in to defend him.Don’t call him fat, that’s very rude you should say overweight or plus-size, with his strict diet and exercise regimen he’ll lose the weight again just give him a chance. This prompting additionalfollowers to pile on her about perpetuating “fatphobic language.” One person referred to “plus-size” as a slur.
Emmett crawled into bed, exhausted and depressed and just wanting to stream movies and binge pizza. But without Obexity he’d just make things worse. He needed to get back on the drug. But how? It was available only through the trial, and he wouldn’t receive doses from Halleck for weeks. By that point he might have gained another fifty pounds. They would know he’d fucked up, maybe even report him for suspected drug trafficking. The last thing he needed was to get himself onto the police department’s radar.
Even worse: another fifty pounds and he’d be not just obese, butseverelyobese. A few months after that, and it would be like Emmett had never been on Obexity at all. Trapped once again in the body he thought he’d left behind, like a man released from prison only to be thrown in jail. Another very real possibility, though that didn’t scare him half as much.
Not for the first time, it struck Emmett how much more time and energy he spent agonizing over the fluctuations of his weight than the fact that he had killed someone—probably a few people. It wasn’t that he thought it was okay; he just kind of kept forgetting he’d done it. The murders didn’t consume his thoughts the way his body did.
Lizette suggested that because he’d committed those crimes while blacked out, they didn’t feel real in the same way, almost like they belonged to someone else. That made sense. But then, what did it say about him that he’d barely mourned the victims beyond weeping over interviews with their loved ones and the grief-stricken messages that flooded their social media accounts? What did it say about him that, over the course of a day, he despaired more for the loss of his thin body than these people’s actual lives?
He went around saying fat people should be treated with humanity, but where was his when it counted? And who was to blame for its absence? After all, Emmett didn’t want to obsess about his body. He had never asked for this life.
Bella cried at the foot of the bed, her eyes communicating an urgent need to pee. Emmett sighed. “Come on.”
A few moments later he was down on the street, scrolling throughInstagram as Bella and Tubbs drenched a lamppost, when he noticed a new comment on his recent post.
gatorfckr321He should try taking the dick out of his mouth for a minute and sticking his fingers down his throat instead
He didn’t read the words so much as feel them, a sense memory torn from the recesses of his fear. Digits probing deep in his mouth. His body spasming as he gagged. Hank’s hateful chirp.That’s what happens when you don’t listen, sport.
Emmett couldn’t breathe.
A car horn blared.
His eyes snapped up. The dogs were sprinting across four lanes of traffic, connected by their double-headed leash. He had dropped it.
“Bella! Tubbs!”
The dogs cowered away from a braking truck. Bella screamed, rolled sideways, and landed on her feet. They ran on, yanking each other to and fro, and leapt over the opposite curb.
Emmett took off after them, dodging traffic and honking vehicles. The handgrip of the leash whipped around a corner.
He pursued them into the parking lot of the single-story commercial building across from his apartment. Bella and Tubbs were going crazy, barking at something in the bushes. Emmett grabbed the leash, wrenching them back from what he assumed was a raccoon.
Then he saw it. The gray-brown fur, the sneer of short, sharp teeth, the animal’s head turned down in a vicious growl. Its ears were flared and bat-like. The fur around its mouth was matted with blood, its eyes a barbarous ice blue.
With a jolt of fear, Emmett jerked on the leash, but it only heightened the dogs’ instinct to attack. They pulled taut, barking savagely at the coyote even though it was more than twice their size, the biggest one he’d ever seen. It tensed, threatening to strike.
