words: 1248 (3/3)
warnings: disordered eating ⚠️
On day thirty, Harry breaks.
He's at the end of his daily routine. He stands on the scale, watching the numbers decrease. When will it be enough? When will he be enough?
Never, his conscience whispers.
He lifts his shirt, pinching at the fat there. He moves onto his thighs and does the same. He watches the areas turn red, some of them bleed.
It's not as enjoyable as before but it's his routine. He has to do it.
He looks down at the scale, his breath caught in his throat. Before, he was afraid to see the number because he didn't want to know how fat he was.
Now he's scared to see how far he's gone.
The scale reads a number and he starts to cry.
What is he doing? He's wasting away. He hasn't eaten in god knows how long. His hands shake, the tips of his fingers hurt and his stomach always aches.
He'd learned to ignore it all but he can't anymore, not when he can't even recognize who he is in the mirror.
When did this happen? When did the numbers become so important, so overbearing that they dictated his entire life?
This was wrong, he knew it was.
He knows it but he still carries on. He's addicted and he wants it to stop, but he can't.
Fuck, what had he done?
Harry looks at the mirror again and holds back a gag. His reflection...
His cheeks are almost gone, his face looks so thin. He doesn't look pretty, or handsome. He's starting to look like a human skeleton. It's disgusting, he's disgusting.
He falls to the floor, silent cries for help on his lips. His body shakes, from the cold or his sobs, he doesn't know.
He knows what this is. He knows he could die.
He doesn't know what to believe and he wants it to be over. He doesn't want this anymore. The mirror lied whenever he looked at it, the numbers kept decreasing and now he wants his life back.
But this is his life, this is what he has to live with now.
Harry wished he could go back in time and tell his past self what he knows now. Though instead he gets up, wipes his tears away and goes to bed.
He did this to himself, he deserves this.
He doesn't deserve to wake up tomorrow.
He's fine.
Maybe if it he repeats it enough, he'll believe it.
***
Waking up feels like the hardest thing Harry has ever done. He struggles to get up, every movement causing a wave of dizziness to crash upon him.
He stands up, out of breath. He feels like he can pass out at any moment.
YOU ARE READING
sdmn one sh~i~ts
Fanfiction!!THIS ONESHOT BOOK IS A BIG FAT TW!! sidemen boyxboy one shots but they're shit :/ (this book gets better as it goes on i PROMISE!) disclaimer- when i say one shots, realistically, i just mean sad stories about the one and only harry lewis. enjoy!
