Stronger Than Silver

The State of Entrapment When You Feel One Cannot Understand You

Trigger Warnings: Bulimia, Purging, Mention of Suicide Attempt, Abuse, Mention of Self-Harm, Cursing

Perhaps there was hope. Perhaps, just perhaps. Perhaps he was courageous enough to turn his life around.

Why had the Dark Lord told his family and Severus? Lucius loathed him more for that fact rather than the cruel torture of unending Cruciatus curses he had endured because of him.

Learning how to eat again was a constant war of internal voices.

Don't eat, you miserable wretch. Starve until your organs fail and murder you in your sleep; it's all a git like you deserve. Death.

Do you not care about your family? Are you so selfish you feel the need to hurt your wife and only son by suffering in such a wicked way?

Eat, you fat pig. Eat it all. Eat until your stomach lining rips apart. Eat until your lungs stop receiving oxygen, I do not care. Puke it all up. Puke until the pieces of your shredded esophagus spill. Puke until you bleed to death, I do not care.

The desire for control and self-destruction aligned itself with the aching itch needing to be scratched, the implacable compulsion to disgorge. Even though sweet voices of encouragement for health and resilience did indeed exist in his mind, they were more often than not faint whispers in the turmoil of banshee screams.

Many, many times, the screams of the banshee won over. Lucius found himself hanging over a bowl of sick more often than he wanted, staring at his sins with dim, emotionless grey eyes. Sometimes they were accompanied by a stray tear.

Why can't I be better than this?

If there was anything he could ask for now, it would not be riches. It would not be property, not possessions, not status, not power, or anything of the sort. All Lucius wanted was to go back in time, approach the gullible little boy that was trying to make himself vomit, and smack the living shit out of him.

He would have grabbed the boy by his two arms and shook him while he screamed, "Don't do this! Don't you dare! Don't you bloody dare do this to yourself, you silly, stupid child!"

If only he had known the truth. When he had first started, he believed it was the only solution to respond to the demons in his head.

I could've handled things another way. I could've screamed, I could've retaliated, I could've run away even, but I chose this! I chose a coward's way.

But that's just all I am, right? A coward.

It was distressing, but it was no lie. Lucius had thought it would fix his problems, but it had never even been close. He had wanted the first purge to be the first and last time, the only time. Little did he know, he'd continuously repeat the same pattern thirty-five years from then.

It was the sad truth. A person could become addicted to a dangerous behavior after just one time, and it had the potential to change an entire life.

Staring at the oil-tainted surface of the toilet water as he flushed away his stomach contents, he sighed. This would be the last time. The very last time. He promised.

Yet two days later, Severus caught the blonde hunched over the loo again, fingers down his throat.

Lucius had not even sensed his presence because of how preoccupied he was with using all the strength that was still left in his fragile body to throw up.

Multiple spots of bright red blood stained the bowl. He jabbed at the back of his throat, feeling the familiar hot, sour bile rise before chunks spewed past his hand and into the toilet.