The Skinny Boy Tales (boyxboy) - Completed-

The Skinny Boy Tales (boyxboy)

All words written, chracters, and everything in this story belongs solely to myself. I own the copyright to my own work.

Prologue
    I raked my trembling fingers through my short, prickly blonde hair as the foul, acidic stench of vomit filled the confined air of my small bathroom. From where I knelt on the tiled floor, I pressed my sweaty forehead against the cool surface of the commode. At this point, I didn’t care how unsanitary it was. Sighing deeply, I lifted my head and spat the remaining bits of vomit into the toilet’s bowl.
    “What is wrong with me?” I asked the stinking air in a voice so rough, raw that my throat burned painfully; however, I didn’t need to hear a response because I knew the answer to my question to my very core. My own subconscious reminded me of it on a regular basis.
    I, Max Rowe, was a complete and utter mess, a train wreck; I was a screw-up; I was broken.
    More tears welled behind my green eyes once more, and I thought to myself how beautiful they must have appeared. It was actually rather poetic; my normally boring, flat green eyes were only remotely pretty when I cried, and because I spent the last twenty minutes sobbing to myself, I figured they had to be absolutely gorgeous by now.
    With the back of my hand, I roughly wiped away my tears. “Be strong,” I mentally willed as I shakily pushed myself to my bare feet. My knees shook in silent protest as I moved, yet somehow, my quivering muscles managed to follow my command.
    I reached for the edge of the sink, using its porcelain surface to steady myself as I stared wide-eyed at the monster meeting my gaze in the mirror. He was a gaunt, hauntingly so, and appeared so fragile with his sharp, jutting collarbones and boney shoulders.
    I knew him better than that.
    Despite his frail appearance, the monster was an iron-willed creature completely set on the motion of consuming my soul from the inside out. He was a terrible being who didn’t deserve to life; he was a mistake, a terrible mistake that needed to be put down.
    Worst of all, I knew the beast’s deepest, darkest secret.
    The beast was me.
    “You’re anything but strong,” I spat at my reflection as more tears dripped down my cheeks. I ran a hand down my bare chest, feeling each and every bone in the process. A sick smile formed on my lips.
    This was my punishment for being so worthless, and I welcomed it with open arms. Everything else in my life remained in sheer chaos; it remained out of my control; however, there was something I could control: food.
    I reveled in that fact, and began by cutting out certain foods. At first it was meat; I refused to eat mean. Then, I cut out all green foods. Before I knew it, I stopped eating completely. On the rare times when my overbearing mother managed to cram food down my throat, I had no problem locking myself in my bathroom and forcefully vomiting up the contents of my stomach.
    When my father finally left me alone to my mother’s insane ways, I sought comfort in what I could control.
    I knew deep down that a fifteen-year-old boy should be more worried about school than what he did or didn’t eat, but everything in my life began to spiral out of control when I finally worked up the courage to tell my mother about my homosexuality.
    Of course, I was told that I was on a one-way trip to hell. My mother even went as far as pulling me from public school, from the few friends I had and home schooling me herself. My father was more understanding and tried his best to yank my mother from her high, overly religious, horse, but in the end, he couldn’t stand to be around her for another moment.
    He gave me twenty bucks and walked out the front door, never to be seen again.
    Honestly, I didn’t blame him, but I still hated him for leaving me alone with a woman who put a CD player outside the bathroom door when I showered and blasted recorded sermons.
    I believed that her goal was to make me feel so bad about myself that I completely ignored my attraction to men and ran off to marry a girl; however, her plan backfired. She made me hate myself, and even though I refused to believe in her god, I still felt horrible about my sexual orientation, but not enough to run off and marry the first lady that showed me any attention.
    Instead, I took out all my angst with my life out on my body. In a few short months, I watched proudly as my body withered into near nothingness. I couldn’t believe what I could accomplish, and despite the gnawing pain in my belly, I refused to eat even more sternly. Eventually, I stopped getting hungry; I forgot what hunger felt like.
    The sudden pounding on my bathroom door jarred me from my thoughts. I cursed under my breath and scrambled to flush the toilet.
    “What are you doing in there?” Asked my mother as she jiggled the doorknob. “Open this door right now, Max!”
    I muttered a string of curses as I waved my hands through the air in a desperate attempt to clear the air of the foul stench. “I’m coming!” I yelled back. My heart was beating widely in my chest. I didn’t know what to do, and I knew that my mother would have an absolute cow attack if she knew I forced myself to upchuck the food she basically fed me by hand.
    “I know what you’re doing in there!” She screamed widely as she ran her body into the door. “I’m coming in there one way or another!”
    I couldn’t help but smile at the image of my tiny mother slamming her body into a locked door. I also crossed my fingers that she would hurt herself in the process.
    Stupid woman.
    The door finally flew open and a tiny woman stood before me with her graying, shoulder length hair in a tizzy and her cheeks a bright red. They grew brighter as she sniffed the air knowingly. Without missing a beat, she stepped forward, meeting my eyes, and slapped me across the cheek.
    I blinked a couple times at her as the pain finally set in.
    “What is wrong with you, Max?” She yelled through the air. “What would our lord and savior think of you like this?” She shook her head disappointedly and reared back once more, slapping me across the cheek again. “I can’t look at you like this! You’re nothing but bones.”
    Despite the pain glowing on my cheek and the tears welling behind my eyes, I met her pale green eyes and smirked. “I look good, huh?” I asked challengingly.
    She took a step back, bringing her hand to her heart theatrically. “My only son is killing me, lord,” she spoke to the air.
    I rolled my eyes at her. “Go on, mother,” I began dangerously. “Ask your lord and savior to save your disgusting fag son!”
    She hit me again. “You don’t deserve saving, but because I’m you’re mother, I have no choice!” She spat.
    “That’s right. Tell me how worthless I am,” my subconscious challenged.
    “Obviously Jesus isn’t enough for you, boy,” she sneered as she ran her eyes over me disgustingly.
    I was unaware then, but that very moment marked a string of hospital stays and psychiatric evaluations at every shrink in Ohio. Before I knew it, a year past, and a few weeks after my sixteenth birthday, I was labeled as one suffering from both anorexic and bulimic tendencies. For over a year, it was pounded into my head by every doctor in this forsaken state how dangerous of a diagnosis this was.
    Finally, I began to believe them; however, I was in too deeply and couldn’t find my way out on my own. The idea of eating and gaining back all the weight I lost terrified me into fits of panic. When my mother informed me that she was sending me away to the Trenton Live-In Clinic, I found myself overjoyed to finally be out of her clutches. I wouldn’t have to wake up to bible versus scribbled over my bathroom mirror by my mother’s dry erase markers.
    Little did I know that the town of Trenton, Ohio had its own name for the clinic: The Skinny Boy House.
    I still didn’t know if I actually wanted to get better, but anything had to be better than living with psychotic woman who had the audacity to call herself my mother.
    I was beyond ready for The Skinny Boy House and anything it could throw at me.
    Or so I thought.

-----

As promised, here is the story that I have been working out! You all know I have a thing for twisted romance stories <3

I've been spending a lot of time plotting this one out and making sure that it will be perfect for all of my lovely readers!

Please tell me what you think! Comment and vote, and I'll love you forever and ever.