Stronger Than Silver

Diagnosis

Trigger Warnings: Vomit, Bulimia, Health Complications, Self-Harm, Sleep Paralysis, & Cursing

Fearful of another relapse, Lucius aspired to be excessively cautious of his eating habits. Although, the problem existed in the fact that the venomous desire surfaced regardless of food or drink consumption. He wanted to purge even if he swallowed the tiniest morsel of food, let alone inhaling an entire kitchen. Hell, he would purposefully eat on an empty stomach just for the relief of puking it back up.

Severus' constant vigilance of his behavior did not help either. Now that he knew his every move was being monitored, Lucius felt extremely uneasy around his dark-eyed friend. Of course, Severus was merely trying to look out for him and protect him from harm, but it felt as if he used it as an excuse to invade his privacy and whatnot.

The other day, he had intended to step into his bathroom to take a shower, only to see Severus standing beside the adjacent wall in the bedroom, reading a potions book as usual. Although he looked nonchalant, the blonde knew the potions master was checking to see, or more specifically, hear, if he would throw up again.

Narcissa's absurdly increased doting of affection made life at the Manor tenfold more awkward. Nearly every hour of the day, the woman would give him the most suffocating, breathless hug and peck at his cheek adoringly. Narcissa never missed a chance to dole out her affection, constantly reminding him how much she loved him. She would prepare his breakfast, lunch, and dinner with uttermost care and precision, but Lucius never ate much. A lack of trust influenced him to disbelieve in even his wife. What if she had been sneaking a fattening draught into his meals?

Yet even the ten thousandth attempt to stop his addiction in vain could not suffice.

The emaciated man lay face-down on the cold, rigid tiles of the bathroom floor, incapacitated from the mortifying pain in his stomach.

He had not eaten in three days but had maintained a clean streak of eight from binging and purging.

Well, until now.

Lucius could barely suck in air to keep himself conscious. The blonde had overdosed on four entire cakes a complete twelve inches in diameter each. Of course, cake had always been a classic favorite since childhood; the soft flour and creamy icing mixed together into a wondrously smooth mixture that tasted like heaven even on the way up. It was, to say the least, better than ice cream itself.

However, he was unable to throw up in the bathtub, which he'd now turned to considering it made less of a mess and less noise. It simply hurt too much, and he could not move at all without feeling like his organs were crushing against each other.

Instead, he collapsed onto the bathroom floor. He could feel his stomach being stretched wide open; he could feel it tearing apart in his gut.

The throbbing pain increased as minutes passed, yet Lucius could barely do much about it. He writhed in pure anguish and gasped for air on the tiles like a dying snake.

Is death finally coming?

Without oxygen, his senses gradually faded from the perceptual surface. The pain dimmed eventually, and his hearing declined. His eyes clouded with blackness, and his thoughts slowed to a stop.

The next thing he remembered was a low, muffled shriek that echoed away from existence, followed by a buzz and then pure silence.

Lucius recalled feeling as if he had been roughly picked up and slammed over the shoulder of somebody before his sense of touch completely numbed.

He had no idea how much time had passed since then, but the very next moment, he was puking harshly and involuntarily into a large steel bucket, nausea overcoming him in giant waves. Oh, the stench was absolutely revolting. The odor of sour, putrid vomit wafted into the air around him as the nasty concoction, reeking of spoiled milk and acid, splashed into the bucket's contents repeatedly.