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I could feel the tension the moment I walked into the room. If I'd have wanted, I could have cut it with a knife. As it was, I preferred the silence. In fact, anything had to be better than the alternative. After a quick glance at the expectant faces sat around the kitchen table, I knew that this would not be a pleasant meal.

Dad looked pointedly at the empty chair at the foot of the table, and I sat.

"Nice of you to join us, Alice," he remarked icily, shovelling peas onto his fork and down his throat.

My look of disgust was greeted by my brother's toothy grin as he copied Dad. Next to Callum sat Carly, his twin sister and partner in crime. Seeing him wolf down his carrots like a wild animal encouraged her to do the same.

I turned my attention to the people sat on my right. Little Norah with her pinched, pale face sat there, chewing her pork chops stolidly as she picked at the sleeves of her grubby red cardigan. Beside her, sat her mother, Dad's latest girlfriend; pathetic, boring, plain Jane. A common name for a common tart.

She looked up briefly as I thought this, and when she saw my dinner was still untouched, she tutted loudly and set down her knife and fork. She picked up her napkin and dabbed at the corners of her mouth lightly, sighing heavily. I rolled my eyes dramatically and pushed my plate away.

"Now, now, Alice," she trilled, "Don't be a silly little girl, eat your food."

Dad looked at her adoringly and stroked her leg lovingly. She blushed and giggled loudly, leaning over to plant a sloppy kiss on his gravy smothered lips.

I concentrated on the mustard yellow wall opposite me, willing it to swallow me up, to offer me an escape from this dreary, monotonous life I was trapped in, to douse colour into my black and white world.

Callum and Carly reacted to the disgusting display of affection instantly, both knowing what the other was about to do. They mimed vomiting into their Yorkshire puddings in unison, before deciding it would be more fun to flick sweetcorn at each other, screeching "Bombs away!"

Norah simply ignored everything going on around her, and instead focussed on cutting her roast potatoes into tiny chunks, chewing them absent-mindedly with her mouth open, staring into space, as she always did.

I looked down at the mountain of food piled high on my plate. Any other person would have seen the soft, shiny boiled potatoes, the bright colourful, peas, carrots and sweetcorn, the perfectly browned roast potatoes, the melt in your mouth, home made Yorkshire puddings, and the tender, succulent pork chops, all arranged attractively on a hand painted china plate, drenched in gravy.

All I saw was the carbohydrates, the fats and the sugars. I saw the calories.

I saw the calories, and I did the only thing I could think to do. I saw the calories and I ran.