Into the Wilderness

I couldn't take it anymore. The pointed remarks, the backhanded comments, the snide expressions and pitying eyes.

"Honestly, Ellie, the purple dress would look so much better on you if you could just manage to shed off some weight," Aunt Priscilla stated, with a sneer that was supposed to look like a smile.

I didn't bother saying anything because it was pointless anyways. Mother and Father looked embarrassed and to make matters worse, Mother decided to jump in, but not to defend me.

"Ellie has been trying really hard, you know? She's just a big-boned girl with a healthy appetite. But perhaps, she needs to do more fasting to be able to drop to a less..." she began and dropped her voice to a whisper, acting as if the sacrilegious word was said in a hushed voice, it would soften the sting.

"Less...well, morbidly obese weight."

I picked at the meatball in my plate, my eyes planted down, never looking at the people who were unfortunately my family members.

Aunt Priscilla, with her sleek, long Barbie-blonde hair and her waspy figure with slim shoulders, tiny waist and trim hips and long, shapely legs and her two kids, my cousins, who were a replica of her. Patricia and Petunia, who were approximately my age, about nineteen years old or so. Those three seemed to loathe me for only one particular reason: because I was fat.

None of my family members knew how it was possible for me to contain so much blubber even after hitting puberty.

Ah, yes--she is a chubby baby, indeed. Chubby babies are cute, but let's hope she doesn't stay this way for too long. It would look too bad for us.

Ellie--you've gotten even bigger over the summer! Why haven't you shed your baby fat?

Ellie--you need to stop eating so much. Get up. Exercise. Practice some self control.

Ellie--I don't think that top looks good on you. It exposes too much of your chest and your gut is poking out. Tut Tut.

I believe I've heard it all. By now, I should have grown a thick skin that could even stop bullets but the words permeate my skin like poisonous gas and I have no choice but to breathe in the toxicity of the family who made me the center of attention over dinner tables on a daily basis.

Father, slightly younger than Aunt Priscilla but less outspoken, mainly kept quiet but he would look at me with piercing, grey eyes, shaking his head every so often as his wife, my simpering mother, who thought she knew what was best for me, desperate for Aunt Priscilla's approval.

"You look like a lumpy potato," Petunia chuckled, daintily sipping her carbonated water. She flipped her long, blonde hair and sneered at me with her delicately formed face.

"Didn't ask for your opinion," I shot back and the demonic aunt gasped in horror.

"Ellie! Mind your manners, young lady. I expect a civilized behavior even if you don't look like it." She scolded me, her eyes glittering with fury.

I responded by stuffing more meatballs in my mouth and rolling my eyes to the ceiling. But apparently, that was another issue and boom! The whole table erupted as if I just announced to them that I was planning to brood a demon spawn.

"Ellie, your attitude is really appalling. You already look like this--and it's really not helping your case," Patricia piped in, her blue eyes narrowed on me.

I ignored her and started slurping my spaghetti loudly. She grimaced in disgust, her fork screeching against her neat plate.

"Yeah, you're hideous as it is now. Girl, you need to drop that layer of blubber," Petunia chimed, backing up her twin sister. They grinned at each other and then at me, with a vicious look in their expressions.

"Ellie, I'm expecting better than that. They're right, you need to start a rigorous diet. Some exercise would help too," my own mother told me, sternly.

My father didn't say anything but he scowled down at his plate, looking at the heap of spaghetti in his plate like it was a stinking ball of elephant dung. He hadn't touched his plate since we had sat down at the dinner table and it seemed like he just lost his appetite. It seemed like he had lost his appetite a long time ago, somewhere along the road trip where we were heading to the luxurious cabin in the middle of the woods, somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Upstate. As if he knew that this was something he knew would happen, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Father, if you're not planning to eat, let me get your plate," I declared, still ignoring the comments. Their words shouldn't hurt me and even if it did, I remained stoic in my stance.

He finally looked up, his grey eyes sad and tired and he pushed his plate towards me with a limp finger. The normally handsome father looked pale and withdrawn--his wheat-blonde hair sitting flat on his skull, his healthy sun-tanned skin taking on a dull pallor.

"Honey! Why are you giving her more? We were just saying that she needs to eat less and that is already her third plate. Why do you keep encouraging her?" My mother exclaimed, shock filling her brown eyes.

I grabbed his plate despite the loud objections around the table and quickly devoured the cold spaghetti with gusto. I wasn't hungry, per se, but I slurped the noodles as if I hadn't eaten for years-- I was aiming to enrage my audience. And it worked.

"Disgusting!" Aunt Priscilla growled loudly and the twins followed her lead with other choice words designed to pierce my thick skin.

Unbelievable. Nasty. Fatso.

"Peter, this is utterly unacceptable. How can you let your daughter become such a pig?" Aunt Priscilla asked, her similar grey eyes boiling in heat. She shot me a scathing look and my cousins did the same. Her perfect little minions that she designed from her wretched womb, like flying monkeys that followed the evil witch's orders.

"Ellie, go to your room now," My father said quietly and it was the reprieve I needed. I stared at everyone challengingly as I scraped my chair back and they just eyed me with disgusted looks in their faces. My mother included. My father met my eyes, an apologetic flicker in his face and he nodded at me imperceptibly.

Good to know that someone supported me, even if it was just from a tired glance from him. Better than nothing.

I marched heavily up the stairs, stomping for good measure and towards my room upstairs. The mahogany door behind me slammed with a force that shook the cabin and squawks of indignation ensued downstairs.

"Such a despicable attitude. Discipline that cow, please," I could hear my aunt saying.

My eyes rolled up and I headed towards the mirror with determination. What was it that they saw in me that they would look at me with such horror? I wasn't the black sheep, I was the fat sheep that all the skinny sheeps veered away from.

The mirror was always covered with a dark casing so that I wouldn't be able to see myself but this time I ripped away the black sheet from the fancy, ancient mirror even if I faced the consequences of petrifying myself with my ugliness.

I stared at myself in the hazy mirror. Big grey eyes that I inherited from my father gazed back at me, dark and stormy, and a round face accentuated them. My nose was small and button-like and my lips were pursed and full but my cheeks were on the plump side, always a faint pink that stayed with me. My hair was jet black, unlike my other relatives' straight, blonde hair, sticking from every direction and shoulder-length, and I blinked rapidly. Was I really that hideous?

My eyes lowered as I evaluated my body. Sure, I was on the big side. I stood at a formidable height of five feet nine and I had lumps and rolls everywhere, from my chest to my stomach to my thighs to my ass. My breasts were heavy but firm and my belly was round and dimpled. My thighs were laced with pale, lightning shaped stretch marks like my stomach, thick and sturdy, supporting my backside which were large and firm. No wonder they compared me to a hippo or a pig--their hind quarters had nothing on me. I continued to review myself, my brows furrowed in concentration.

Maybe they were right. I looked nothing like the Steward's family who pride in themselves for their bright, blonde hair and slim, proportional figures. I came from somewhere else, the land of the giants or something that made me look like a can of lard compared to them. I even wondered if my mother was actually my mother because she was just as attractive as my relatives, with deep auburn hair and big, expressive brown eyes. Where did I come from? With my waves of black hair and pale skin and layers of fat? It couldn't be true that she was able to pop me out from her tiny womb--maybe I was adopted. It wouldn't be much of a surprise, my parents had me later than expected, in their late thirties after several miscarriages and stillborns. I was a miracle to them, a sad, ugly miracle.

You're fat and ugly, I mouthed to myself in my reflection. You're fat and ugly and everyone hates you.

That night I decided to run away.

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I was running in the middle of the night, into the depths of the spiky trees in the inky darkness. Maybe I was being silly and rash but it sounded like a great plan before. After a few meters, I was gasping and heaving for breath like a child with a severe case of asthma. My legs shook and I had a painful stitch on my chest--I haven't really digested the spaghetti--and I was burning up. I bent my torso down, my hands supporting my trembling knees as I fought to inhale the much-needed oxygen into my aching lungs.

I stared across the field and scoffed. Just a few distances and I could still see the cabin looming above the trees. Fat, ugly and stupid. Add that to the list of why they hated me so much.

Where did I think I was going? Where was I going to run to? How am I supposed to run without hauling around my weight?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I muttered, straightening up. I took a shaky step towards the cabin and a light flickered on.

Would they even miss me? I think not. I turned my back and walked towards the threshold of dark trees. Maybe it was better off that I was dead--I won't be missed after all.

I started running again.

Breathe in, breathe out. Remember to breathe through the nose and out the mouth. Run at a good pace, not too slow, not too fast.

I kept the mantra for a while, occasionally pausing to walk to catch my breath.

And then I was running again.

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I was dead.

After hours of running, I collapsed, my throat screaming in pain, my mouth parched and my chest throbbing persistently. My heart felt like it was going to explode, thumping so hard and fast that the pain coursed through my entire body. Laying in the mossy, leave-sprinkled ground of the looming forest, I knew right there and then that I would die. Die, all alone, sooner or later, in pain and in vain. My eyes drifted shut and I readily accepted the embrace of death.

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My eyes popped open and I stared up at the sky, marked by the cypress trees. It was ridiculously blue, so blue it hurt my eyes. I squinted and tried to look around, but my neck was stiff and there was no way I could turn my head. I could hear the faint gurgling of water as if there was a stream nearby, maybe a few feet away. I tried to move my body and my body protested from the soreness.

With a sigh, I laid still and stared up at the sky. Not a cloud in sight and I believe the weather forecast said it was going to rain. I didn't know how long I was prone on the ground underneath me but I started drifting as the sun peeked through the trees and onto my face. And then, the ground started shaking. The thumping sound was heavy and I could feel the vibrations. It sounded like feet racing towards me. Was there someone out here--looking for me? Impossible, nobody cared.

I closed my eyes again but the thumping continued. The ground was shaking harder, the leaves from the trees starting dotting around me in blurs of green and yellow and my eyes flitted around in my face. Something appeared in my line of vision, towering above me.

It was a man but he was impossibly tall and nearly naked, he seemed like he was as tall as the trees--he blocked the sun entirely as he hovered above me, staring down with dark, dark eyes. I gazed back up with eyes that bulged out my skull. He was enormous, much bigger than a regular sized man.

Even though the sun was effectively blocked by his gigantic figure, I could see his skin was a warm brown, the color of a tree bark, perhaps except richer. From what I could see, his whole body was slightly furry, his chest furred with tufts of dark hair and his tree trunks of legs were equally hairy. He was wearing a spotted pelt around his waist that looked like a kilt made from the hide of a leopard which barely covered hsi modesty. The male was at least three to four times my size and that said something.

"Who--who are you?" I managed through cracked lips and his great head tilted slightly as his thick brows furrowed.

Suddenly, he crouched down to my level, his face inching closer. He had something in his hands but I couldn't tell until he unceremoniously splashed the water in the general direction of my mouth. I drank thirstily, licking around the corners of my mouth and I looked back at him, pleading.

He obliged with a rumbling grunt and poured more water down my face, but he managed to improve his trajectory. He shook out the carved wood, letting the last drops dribble down my lips but I wasn't able to catch them.

"More," I whispered and he cocked his large head to the side again, his brutish features contorting in confusion.

He echoed me in the same rumbling tone and I managed to nod my head. He stood up abruptly from his animal-like crouch and lumbered away, the grass trembling in his wake. Finally, feeling some sense of energy, I twisted my head and stared after his broad, retreating back. He was definitely taller than an average human. Perhaps even taller than that famous Asian basketball player, Yao Ming. His bare back was colossal, furred with dark hair--was he some type of Bigfoot?--and layered with deep slashes of thick scars as if he had been whipped repeatedly, without any chance of healing. My eyes swept over his enormous height, from the top of his massive head down to his thick, heavily muscled thighs. That explained the thumping, he was a big thing that practically trampled the poor grass underneath the sizable soles of his scarred, dirt-crusted feet.

What was he?

He was like a mutant giant of a man, a neanderthal. No normal man would dare challenge him. His body was thick, hairy and armed with steely muscles and his back rippled with rows and rows of beefy meat. His calves had to be the size of the biggest part of my thighs and I stared and stared as he walked away from me, unable to quit my unabashed ogling.

The animal-skinned loincloth was a pathetic excuse for covering his backside and it shifted as he stormed off, revealing deep back dimples and a slight peek of the crevasse of his ass cheeks.

"Ugh," I grumbled, but still I wasn't able to shift my gaze. I continued to watch him even as he turned to look at me, even as he returned with the carved bark full of sloshing water. His front was just as impressive as his back. Wide chest like a football player, the breath of his burly shoulders blocked the trees above him, his chest was furry and marked with both old scars and new scars, and his abdomen was corrugated with thick slabs of firm muscles. He looked like the Hulk but the Hulk had nothing on him. Instead of green skin, he had brown skin, almost blending in with his surroundings.

He grunted at me, a sonorous sound that hurt my head, and kneeled down again. He poured the cold water over my face and I sputtered at his uncouth behavior. My hair was wet against my face and his dark eyes roved over my sputtering expression. He rocked back on his immense haunches, satisfaction flitting across his broad face as he watched me struggling to sit up.

I glared at him and he stared back at me with fathomless eyes. He was definitely some type of gorilla--he sure acted like one, from all that grunting and stomping.

"Who or what are you?" I demanded, my voice rusty from all the running I had to do.

He didn't answer and his gleaming black eyes roved over my face, his expression carved like stone. He was staring at me as if he had never seen a girl before. I took the opportunity to look directly at his face. He had long hair, brown as dirt, streaming down his shoulders and chest, matted in some places and tangled with twigs, leaves and grass. His face was expressionless yet intelligent, with deep-set eyes, a slightly crooked nose that suited him and thick, brownish-red lips. His face was covered with a long goatee, not long enough to call it an actual beard. He actually looked like a normal dude but his face was savage and seemed out of this world.

Everything about him screamed predator or a hunter, something from back in the hunter-gatherer age. His cunning eyes swept across my body but not in a lecherous way, almost as if he was trying to see if I looked injured or something. When he was done scrutinizing me, he gave a soft grunt and shifted in his haunches.

"Can you speak?" I asked again, uncomfortable with his steady gaze. His lips rubbed against each other and he tilted his massive head again.

He raised a long arm, his hand twice or three times the size of my head. They were coarse and riddled with scars and his finger, warm and rough, poked my skin gingerly. He was careful as he brushed my damp hair off my face but his face twisted into a scowl, his lips turning down as he grumbled to himself.

My heart stopped and sped up at his unfamiliar touch--I've never been touched by a male and he honestly frightened me. He could snap my neck before I could realize with a swift slap of his large palm and I was pretty sure he was aware of that, based on his gentleness. I shivered a little as warmth spread across his cheeks.

He was growing a little more confident as he continued to brush my hair with one finger and I sat still, unable to breath. His dark eyes, I just realized, were not entirely black--his pupils were rimmed with an interesting shade of golden-amber. For a neanderthal like him, he looked like a mountain god, a behemoth that relied solely on his strength and prowess. He could probably tear a regular tree into pieces if he wanted to. Hell, he could rip me to shreds easily.

He still wasn't talking to me and I gathered that he probably couldn't understand me. He looked at me like I was an alien and even though his rough hand was tender, his face looked intimidating.

My stomach grumbled and I flushed furiously, pressing my belly with one hand. He heard it and he looked surprised but then his lips twisted upwards and he looked...pleased?

He grunted at me and I frowned.

"What? A girl can't get hungry? What's so funny?" I grumbled but he just mumbled unintelligibly, his voice harsh and deep, rumbling in the back of his throat.

He withdrew his hand and removed my hand from my stomach. He poked at it and I slapped his finger away, but it didn't budge at all. I glowered at him, trying to look as threatening as possible but he didn't seem affected by my death glare.

"Don't touch me, you brute," I snapped and he paused, looking surprised. His thick brows rose slightly and he patted my stomach with a less than gentle thud, knocking the air out of my diaphragm. Of course, he didn't listen and why would he? He didn't understand what I was trying to say.

In a swift movement, he hauled me up with one palm and over his shoulder. I cried out in pain and he paused, shifting me down to his arms like he was cradling me. He stared down with a confused look on his massive face but when I started struggling, he held on tighter, his brolic arm curling around me like a prison cell. He started walking and my teeth chattered and clacked against each other as he ambled towards god-knows-where. Every thump shook my body and even though he tried to hold me steady, my body ached from every step he took.