Short Story: The Struggle for Perfection part 3

It had been a week since her roommates had asked her down the pub, and she had made a point to purposely talk about eating food and actually be caught with food on her since then, but if anything this seemed to make things worse, like they saw right through her, and for some strange reason the idea made the tension in her chest ease a little, she didn’t want to examine why that was she just knew she felt a little better.
She was mid-way through her pre-work stretching routine that followed her normal workout when the door burst open and the owner walked in. Olivia’s first thought was that she could continue stretching if he just stood there with a surprised look on his face.
She had never gotten a good look at him, despite using his apartment to work out every day she avoided the pictures on his shelf and never used any room but the living room.
“Olivia?” He asked, his voice surprisingly deep and calm despite his evident surprise.
“Erm yeah?” She said getting up slowly.
“Are you using my apartment to work out?” He said taking a step forward; he dropped his backpack onto the floor, his gaze never leaving hers.
Suddenly Olivia felt exposed in her workout clothes, he was taller than she remembered and bigger too, he was also standing in front of her only route to freedom.
She glanced at the door and looked back at him, he seemed oddly amused.
“Aren’t you angry? Or going to press charges?” She blurted out.
He laughed and it was a deep throaty sound that had her smiling nervously.
“No, I kind of figured someone was breaking in, but since you never took anything, I figured you used it to paint,” she gave him a surprised look and he said; “you used to paint all the time. I used to see you on the bench in the clearing, always covered in paint, but you don’t do it any more figured you came here to get away and paint, it is getting cold.”
Olivia stared at him for a long moment, suddenly she wanted out of his apartment, she looked around for an escape.

Short Story: The Struggle for perfection

She looked in the mirror, tilting her body from one side to the other, her eyes narrowed a fraction as she detected with a critical eye more than a few things wrong.
Olivia huffed in annoyance. How long till she was perfect? She had been working out for months and still her body wasn’t where she wanted it to be. The lack of food the strenuous workouts in the gym. What was the point if she couldn’t look exactly how she wanted?
She covered the mirror with a sheet again, she only allowed herself the mirror a week before weigh day to pump her up and it usually worked, but today, she felt more deflated than anything.
She needed to be perfect.
She glanced at the time, it was five am. If she hurried she could get in a full workout before she left for work. She quickly pulled on her tracksuits and her hoddie. She hated jogging; she really did, and preferred her workout DVD much more but her roommates had started to complain about the noise she made every time she jumped up and down. Disliking gyms for their crowds she had been forced to start jogging but had stopped when she realised that her neighbour worked nights and got in around eight am. She had snuck in and had been so afraid every second, but after a while she had grown comfortable, she had even had a key cut and kept spare exerting clothes over at his house.
Olivia was barely functional after returning from work, they had a new boss that Olivia actually liked but who had known her before and so kept referring to her as Ollie. She hated it, hated any attachment to before. She wanted to distance herself from before as much as possible but couldn’t do it if she was being referred to as Ollie.