Chapter 13 - The Belt 4’4”

I used television as my coping mechanism that day.  I mindlessly reclined on the couch flipping through channels until I settled on watching reruns of Flip or Flop on HGTV.  Suddenly, I remembered my plan to spend the night with Angela.

I turned off the tv and stood up.  When I stood up my basketball shorts and boxers immediately fell to the ground.

“Shit,” I thought to myself, “am I shrinking even faster because I took the HDB on an empty stomach?”

Understandably stressed, I pulled up my shorts, a feeling that had become too familiar to me by this point, and proceeded into my bedroom.  I rummaged around in my room looking for my belt.

“I know I left my belt in here somewhere,” I thought to myself, growing flustered.

I noticed the flood pants I had put on the morning before lying on the floor at the foot of my bed.  I picked them up, now the thick fabric felt heavy to my smaller muscles.  I tossed the pants to the side with some effort and found my belt underneath.

After retrieving the belt, I dug around in the clothes Daphne and Helen had bought for me and pulled out a pair of dark-blue Southpole jeans.  I pulled off the basketball shorts and tossed them aside, replacing them with the jeans.

I had the jeans around my waiste, the clothes that had fit me before were now several inches too large.  I sat on the edge of my bed and carefully threaded the belt through each of the belt loops.  I then stood up, and tightened the belt all the way to the last notch.  The pants still felt slightly loose, but at the time I could cope, I had been through worse in the course of the same day.

I moved out into the living room.  I made sure to pick up my cell phone my way to the front door.

I opened the front door and scanned the hall carefully.  I didn’t want to take any risks after the incidents that had already taken place earlier in the day.  I proceeded quickly across the hall to Angela’s front door and knocked.

My heart was racing.  I didn’t want anyone else to find out after the abuse I had suffered.  I heard the sounds of a tv blaring children’s shows on the other side of the door.

I could hear shuffling from inside the apartment.  I knocked again.

“Angela, it’s Steve, can you please let me in,” I begged keeping my voice as low as possible.

“Celeste, honey get the door,” I heard Angela from the other side of the door.

“But mommy, I’m trying to watch My Little Pony,” Celeste whined in protest to her mother’s command.

“I think this is more important than tv Cel,” Angela retorted.

I heard a brief amount of shuffling, then the door opened, what I saw shocked me.  I was now exactly the same height as my 8-year-old neighbor.