Just eat

Part 7- food

Dan's POV
"Then you wouldn't mind eating this?" Phil said holding out a bowl of cheesy pasta "I know it's your favourite" he stated. I felt my stomach tense up, I couldn't give in, not yet.
"Phil I'm not hungry" I told him but it was a lie, the truth was I was starving, I haven't eaten a thing in almost a week, my body was yelling out for food but I couldn't give in. I was hoping he'd believe me but I knew that Phil was smart, I knew that he wouldn't.
"Dan, you haven't eaten all day. I need to go out and get us food but neither of us are leaving until you finish your pasta" Phil told me. He had a pout of his face, the one I couldn't say no to, the one no one could say no to, he knew exactly what he was doing and I hated him for it. I tried to stall thinking of a way around this but I couldn't, I can't think of a way around this one, it was impossible. How could I make it look like I ate if he was watching me? There was only one way around, the only thing I didn't want to do right now, I'd have to eat the pasta.
"Give it here then" I muttered to Phil snatching the bowl out of his hands. His face lit up, almost as if he was expecting me not to eat it, if I knew that was an option I definitely would have taken that. It felt good knowing I was making Phil happy but I knew what I was about to do next wouldn't feel good at all.
"Do I have to eat it all? I told you I'm not hungry" I told Phil, again. I was lying through my teeth but Phil seemed to even partly believe it.
"I just want to see you eat at least half of it. I'm really worried about you, Dan... I just don't want anything happening to you" he admits to me, it's nice to see someone care even though he's probably lying. "If you're feeling so sick that you can't eat we really need to get you to a doctor" I decided to ignore Phil's ramble, like I said I can't go to the doctors, I stared down at the food. This was really going to hurt, but maybe it might be good for me? No. Never. It's just going to make me fatter than I already am. This won't be good. I stabbed the cheese and pasta and put it in my mouth, even though it tasted nice it but felt like hell. This was my own personal toucher. Phil's mouth twitches into a smile, which almost made me smile too. With every mouthful of cheese and pasta that I swallowed my head was screaming at me to stop but I couldn't, I had to keep Phil happy. Even though my head was screaming at me to stop my body wasn't, it loved every second of it. What does my body know anyway? It hates me, my body is a fat piece of crap that wants me to get fatter. I need to listen to my head, what does my body know anyway?