I was staring at him then. 3...2...1. I was out. He pressure pointed me! Jerk!
I awoke on his couch this time it was morning. I looked over at him. He had his head buried in his hands.
"Hey." I said. His head shot up. "Why?" He asked. "Its unhealthy, To cut and not eat." He told me. "Okay." I said. "Here." He stood up and walked into the kitchen returning with some toast. "Eat." He ordered. I did so, slowly, as if every bite pained. I finally finish putting the plate down. I felt sick. "You only ate one half." He commented. "I'm full." I lied. "I guess cutting doesn't build up an appetite." He said sarcastically.
There was a pause. I looked down at the three half slices left on my plate. I ate a second piece resisting the urge to run in the bathroom and puke.
"Why do you cut on your hips an ankles?" He asked breaking the silence, filled of crunching toast. "I don't want people to know or feel bad." I told him, honestly. "You need to stay here. I need to keep an eye on you." He said.
"Call your family." He ordered. "Why?" I questioned. "If you're not home, won't they worry?" He asked concerned. "They're never home." I told him. "They don't have to know." I added. "I don't feel comfortable, without them knowing." He told me. "They don't care." I spat, harsher than needed. He outstretched his hand. "Give me your phone." He commanded.
"No." I rebelled. He stood up and outstretched his hand. "Give it." He ordered again. "No." I said. he tackled me back on the couch. He straddled me and held my wrists down. He quickly tried to remove my phone from my pocket. He released my wrist. In return I grabbed his as it hovered over my pocket. He pinned my wrists back then, he pinned both arms with his wrist. Allowing the other hand to quickly grab my phone.
He let go of my wrists and got off the couch. I luged for my phone but he held I high. He ran passed the kitchen and into his room. Slamming the door in my face.
