In The Fat is the story of a twenty-first century girl dealing with the issues of molestation, self harm, and institutionalization. This young adult novel came out at the end of 2015 through Black Bomb Books, a small press out of the Asheville area of North Carolina. In The Fat was chosen as one of the best novels of 2016 by the Multnomah County Library Association.
To read the first chapter from In The Fat, please click here.
For more information, please go to InTheFat.comexcerpt
The Real Problem was My Thigh
I know I'm dreaming because everything that's happening has already happened. Hell, even this dream has happened before and I can't get away from it. My brain just reruns the last year of life like bad television.
I'm in the bathroom at home. White tile, white toilet, white sink, blue walls, and a copy of a lithograph by MC Escher above the towel bar. The blood stains on the grout have been bleached away.
The kitchen knife in my hand is from a set in one of those wood blocks.
Not the largest of the set, not the smallest. Not the bread knife.
Just one of the middle ones. A white handle the right size to fit in my palm.
Jagged sharp edge. Sharp sharp edge.
And I'm sitting on the white bathmat, thinking about how this is a generous thing to do, that Mom can be happier and Andrew won't have to worry and Zoe won't think that her little sister turned out to be a total slut. How Mom and Ken can stay married because I won't be around to interfere with them. How Andrew and his wife can raise Emily without her ever having to know that her real mother was thirteen when she was born. And, maybe if there is a selfish part to it, then it will also make it so I don't have to deal with Ken anymore. And also maybe Mom will quit with the questions - "who's the father, Skyler?" and "tell me the truth, Skyler!" and "I want to talk to this boy's parents, Skyler!"
So in my dream-memory, I'm sitting here on the white bathmat, the blood pools around me, thick and dark. It spreads into a cloud shape. And two flies are buzzing around on the ceiling looking down at me and one fly says to his fly friend, 'That blood puddle looks like a bunny - see the ears and the cotton tail?'
But he's wrong, because it looks like a face, see the eyes and nose and grimace and…wait.
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