Moonlight [H.S]

the fifth

May 23rd

Tw: eating disorders and body dysmorphia – it's only a little part of the chapter in between the '~' please please please don't read if these are a triggering topic for you

"Why are you in my bed?" My hope for a day of quiet has gone out the window when my voice comes out in a slight shriek.

"Christ, you have got a set of vocal cords, don't you?" He smacks his hands on his face dragging them down slowly. I have a huge t-shirt on but its mine so that's a good sign.

He on the other hand doesn't have anything on his body.

"You didn't answer my question." My voice is still worried and rushed while he seems unfazed.

"It's so early." He groans turning himself face down into the pillow, showcasing his muscular back.

Stupid muscley bitch.

"Its 2pm." I respond flatly, losing my worried tone and replacing it with an annoyed one.

"Let me sleep." His voice is muffled by the pillow, but I can hear the irritation in it.

Im irritated too Harold.

I don't even know if that's his actual name, but it fits the situation.

"Get out of my bed." It's cruel to make someone get up and walk home when they're this hungover, but I hate him, so I don't feel bad at all.

I feel a little bad.

Keyword in that sentence being 'little.'

"I will. When I am ready to be awake." I pull my leg closest to him back and swing it towards his calf at full force, "Ow! Christ! Are you a child?" Is he seriously asking me that? I am not the child in this relationship.

"Harry. Get. Out." I put emphasis on all my words to accentuate my point.

"Todd. Go. Back. To. Sleep." He lifts his head off the pillow to say his sentence and then flops it back down.

I don't even know why he's here. How am I supposed to sleep?

For all I know, last night we fucked.

Oh my god. I didn't even think of that.

Ew. Ew. Ew.

I huff turning myself away from him closing my eyes because I know I'm not going to win this argument no matter how hard I try.

~

My head is a scary place.

I never know when it's going to drag up old memories that haunt me.

You can't defend yourself, from yourself.

How are you supposed to protect yourself from your own subconscious? You can't. And that's the part that's scary.

The thing that can hurt you most, is yourself. Self-sabotage.

When I sleep my mind constantly plays a different array of things to hurt me. It has a whole platter to choose from.

This time, it picked my body.

I keep hearing all the things in my head.

"Are you really going to eat all of that?" My mother.

"Bread makes you fat." Angela.

"No, I'm not hungry right now. I'll eat when I get home." Myself.