All The Angels (Frerard)

Chapter 3: Contusions

Heyo, makin progress lads. This one has a heavy ED warning, and I guess abuse ment, but yeah that's all I have to say boyz

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Ch. 3

Gerard woke up to the sound of his stomach groaning. He sighed and looked around the darkness of his basement room, searching for the bright digital glow of his bedside alarm clock.

Once he located it, and found it to be 3am, he sat back in his bed, feeling light-headed. Once again, his stomach groaned, this time slightly louder, reminding him that he had not eaten anything the day before (except for the PB+J that he had purged after a hasty retreat to his bedroom).

He wanted so badly to walk up the daunting basement steps and get something, anything to eat, but ED's warning about bingeing echoed in his mind, preventing him from taking a step.
Until that is, his hunger took over, willing his frail body to pick itself up and begin making the journey up the stairs, which seemed as steep as a mountain in his 3am stupor.

He was effortlessly quiet; he didn't weigh enough to make the stairs creak anyways. He could feel the tears begin to prick at his weary eyes as he made his way to the dark kitchen.
"Just one," he told himself as he picked up an apple, taking bite after bite so as to prevent himself from passing out on the cold tile. He made sure to get every last piece, as this was all he was allowed to have. He began to make his way back to his room when his stomach whined once more.

"Not enough," it said, "just one more, anything, please."

Gerard hesitated. He knew it was a risk to give in to these pathetic demands, but his extreme hunger had still not yet subsided.

He was not going to binge. He couldn't. He would simply just grab a some celery and hummus, and then he'd retreat to the sanctity of his room. Where he couldn't binge.

Or at least, that's what he told himself. The problem with starving all day, is that at night, when you have unlimited access to food, you're instincts take over, and your body takes any desperate measure it seems fit so as to feed itself.

And this was what happened. When Gerard was done, tears staining his pale bony face, he estimated that he had ingested at least 2,000 calories. His body and mind went numb. A part of him had known that this was going to happen, but he did nothing to stop it. This was his fault.

"You fucking pig," ED sneered, "I told you this would happen."

Gerard continued to cry, attempting to hold back the loud, shaking sobs that he could feel swelling up inside of him.

He knew what he had to do.

Before he knew it, he was back downstairs, staring at the pristine toilet bowl, preparing himself for the hell that he was about to put himself through once again.

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Three hours later, the bedside alarm went off, signaling that it was 6:30am, and was therefore time to get ready for school.

Gerard's eyes were red and watery, and his throat was coarse and tight. After purging, he'd cried himself to sleep, as he knew that he had not gotten it all out.

The sound of the alarm was softly silenced, and was replaced by the sheets shifting, and the aching and popping of Gerard's fragile bones, as he stretched his bony arms.

Pushing his long, greasy hair out of his face, he stood up slowly and began his morning routine of showering briefly, dressing himself, avoiding food and his mother, and finally driving himself, as well as Mikey, to school.