Cold

1 - Cold Morning

Ezra rolled out of bed with a piercing headache. His feet lead him to the cold bathroom tiles and in front of the vanity. The mirror reflected a shaky boy desperately needing some more sleep. He winced at the light in his eyes but didn't reach for the ibuprofen bottle.

You're not supposed to take them on an empty stomach.

Ezra piled on Sensodyne toothpaste as his eyes drug over the body in the mirror before him, subconsciously analyzing every inch. He pitched forward to spit out the minty froth. He kept his eyes on his body as he removed his clothing, staring down all of his extra body.

You're weak. Look how much crap still hangs on to you.

He pinches the lump by his armpit when his arm was down. Ezra stretched his arms out to a 'T' shaking them to make the skin jiggle. He takes his hands and presses them along his stomach, making it ball up at the center. Ezra's little sister, Alyssa, pounded on the bathroom door.

"Come on hurry up, you're not even in the damn shower yet! I have to get ready too you know!" Alyssa said.

"Okay, I'm going!" Ezra replied. His eyes lingered on the mirror as he walked over to the scale that lay between the vanity and the toilet.

There's no way you could have possibly lost anything. Didn't you just see yourself? You're impossible.

Ezra's weight pressed down on the scale, moving the small needle inside up. 128? Impressive. I told you that 48 hours would do something. You're actually "underweight" now. Ezra stepped back off the scale and caught a glimpse of his naked body in the mirror.

Even though you'd never think that someone of your size is so low.

You should do 72 hours now.

He winced as his headache pulsed again. He thought about the bread downstairs that he could make into toast and creamy peanut butter he could slather on.

You're doing 72 hours. It wasn't a suggestion.

Ezra stepped into the shower and turned it just barely on. Freezing water pinched his skin and he pretended to be used to it by now. He wasn't. It made his heart race and his breathing picked up but he couldn't breathe. Every time it felt like he was suffocating in the shower but cold showers supposedly boost your metabolism, so he does it this way every morning.

Looking down all he could think about was his stomach. His thighs. He never even realized until then that his big toes looked so fat and squished against the floor. Every time he had ever been barefoot in front of people flashed in his mind.

He shut off the water and picked up all of his hair that came out from the top of the drain filter, throwing it quickly into the trash. He put on his huge robe to go back to his room, his curls hung in his face and dripped into the soft fabric. Alyssa pushed past him the second he opened the door, closing it on him abruptly.

"Thanks for taking so fucking long!" She yelled from behind the door.

"If you don't want me taking so long why don't you wake up first!" Ezra yelled back, but he probably went unheard as the water started hitting the vinyl shower floor. He pulled his hands through his hair in frustration and immediately regretted it. Between his fingers were more strands of his hair. He shook them off before he went to his room and looked through his closet for something to wear, quickly realizing he never did his laundry last night like he had planned on.

He pushed through all of his clothes until he finally found a pair of pants, an old pair of jeans, but they were at least pants. They were a bit worn with holes here and there but they would have to do. Ezra jumped into them and put on an old sweatshirt but when he lifted it up over his head, the pants fell far down his hips. His boxers stuck out at the top all the way down to the crotch before the weight of the pants started to drag them down too. He went over to his dresser and frantically grabbed his belt. Yanking the pants back up and putting on the belt was a slight success but Ezra didn't like how baggy the pants looked and how they were twice his size.

Stop being such a crybaby this is good. Proof of all your progress. He shrugged off his thoughts and went downstairs and to the door, hugging his mom goodbye and rubbing his dog's ears.

"Sweetheart you should get breakfast. Why are you leaving so soon anyway?" Ezra's mother called after him as his trembling hand touched the doorknob. He had to think quick.

"Today is pancake morning at school. I'm leaving early so I don't miss it." Ezra said. His mouth began to fill with saliva.

"Well, why don't I drive you?" His mother stood from her seat on the couch, pausing the news. His hands became terribly clammy.

"No! No thank you, I'm okay with walking. It's supposed to be really nice outside!"

"Alright, I guess, have fun!" She said before sitting back down and resuming the news.

"Goodbye Molly," Ezra waved to his dog before he stepped outside and started towards the school. He pulled his sweatshirt away from his stomach when he saw it was pulled tight against him by his backpack.

72 hours will make you need a new sweatshirt too.

Ezra pulled the sleeves down over his perpetually blue-tinged fingers. The weatherman said it would still be warm outside.

But it was just cold.