Whispers In The Dark

Anna

Anna

You're disgusting, my reflection sneered. Look at what you're doing to yourself. I wrapped my arms around my stomach. Blah. I can't even see my toes.

"I'm sorry," I choked. "I don't know what to do."

Don't eat.

It sounded so simple when it was whispered softly between the layers of a delicate mind. Just don't eat. There wasn't much to it. I never ate in the morning; it gave me stomachaches. With school starting, skipping lunch wouldn't be too hard. No one found the crap they served in the cafeteria to be very appetizing, anyway. Dinner, though, I would be most tempted to eat. My mom wouldn't be home, so it wouldn't be likely that she would notice, but I knew that I would want it. I could maybe store all of the plates and forks and pans in the basement, and when it was dark and no light could come through the tiny basement window, I would be too afraid to go down and retrieve them. It was a tempting idea, but I knew that when my mom came home in the wee hours of the morning she would surely be more than a bit confused. I would have to busy myself; homework, shower, reading, anything but eating. It should really be as simple as it sounded, but it wasn't.

Just. Don't. Eat.