Constant Puking and Persistent Lies

Prolouge - Anorexia Nervosa

Virgil counts to ten in his head, then back down to zero.

He wiggles his fingers around to make sure he can still feel them all.

Then he stops, and looks down at his hands.

His fingers are dry, like always. Some skin flakes around his nails where he's been picking at it. Callouses have begun to form on the back of his hands, around the knuckles.

He looks away, back up to the little room he lives in.  The lights off and the curtains drawn.

Then he turns his head back towards the mirror, fingers trembling as he traced his ribs.  Thin, papery skin that seemed barely apart from the bone. 

Exhaling shakily, he turned back to his bed, putting on his thick sweatshirt.  Even with it on, a cold chill seemed to flow through his room. 

3500 calories in a pound... I'm at 98 pounds, so down 7 from last month... If I cut 1000 calories from 2500, then that would be 1500, so I would be losing about a pound a week...

Virgil paused, looking back into the mirror.  He unzipped the sweatshirt, then ran his fingers from his popping collarbones to his thin hips.

He silently dug his finger nails into the skin by his hip bones, watching the skin redden, and marveling at the red crescent shapes. 

It's not enough.

He turned and sat on the bed, hands coming up to skim through his hair. 

A pound or a half a week isn't enough.  1500 calories... if it's cut to 500, then that's definitely two pounds a week.

A smile came across his face.

Control.  If I regulate my self to 500 a day, then I can reach my goal in... 3? 4 months?  That's... too long.  If I skip eating a few days a week, then it'll be even sooner.

He felt satisfied, zipping his sweatshirt up again.

It's all in control.  If I can get down to 500 a day, then I'll work down from there.  Once I reach my goal, I'll take it even lower.

Then he walked to the door, readying himself to step out the door.

After all, 70 isn't too low...