The Self-Harmed

~Ryder Nicks~

I snapped a picture of a humming bird before it flew away. Clara was right, I had already more than fifty pictures. I hope I could catch pictures of other animals. Not much else to capture here anyways.

"You take pictures."

I turned, dropping my camera, but it caught on the strap. It was Ryder in jeans and a shirt. SO these were his clothes then.

"You're really skinny." I blurted out.

"I'm Anorexic."

"You don't eat?" Shut up! Shut up!

He smiled, actually smiled at me. And not the smile you get when you've crossed a line and said something you shouldn't have. The smile you get when someone thinks that you're funny. But Anorexia was not funny.

"I do. Under three hundred calories a day, and no more than seven hundred on my chest days." He seemed proud of himself. "I'm supposed to be eating more. At least that's what they say."

"They?"

"The Doctors, my parents, society."

"But your fine." I looked at him confused.

He was walking and talking an breathing. I didn't see the problem.

"Better than ever." He raised his camera and took a picture.

"Please delete that." I held up a hand over my face even though he had already taken the picture.

"Can't." He walked to a bench taking a seat to see the latest picture he took.

"Why?" I followed him.

"I have to have a picture of everyone I meet. It helps me remember them."

"You can't just ask for their name?" I asked sitting next to him.

"Not a chance. People change." He held up his camera. "Pictures don't."

"Can't you at least take a good picture of me?" I asked looking at my camera in my hands.

He snapped another one.

"Ryder!"

"What? You wanted me to have a good one." He smiled looking at his camera, "This one is a good one."

"I want you to have none."

"Here."

He actually took my camera and took two photos of himself.

"There." He set it back in my lap. " Now we're even."

"Ryder!" A nurse called. "It's time for you're weighing."

"For Christ." He muttered standing up.

"Weighing?"

"Yeah." He helped me up. "It's this thing. I can't get below a certain weight, or they take me to a hospital and give me a feeding tube."

"Why do you do it?"

"Ready?" The nurse asked.

"Yeah," He looked at me strangely,  "Any news on the salad?"

"Yep." She said, as they walked down the hall. "The Doctor said if you get your weight to eighty-two pounds you can have a small one."

"It's a start." He relented, turning the corner with the nurse following.

Why was he asking for a salad if he was supposed to be eating more? Isn't that basically water? Do these people not know anything?  I walked around the garden again. For some reason, Ryder was the most interesting person that I had ever met. He liked taking pictures. That meant he had to find some sort of beauty in life.

And yet he was trying to waste away. Into nothing at all. I wonder if I'll see him again. I'm sure he probably keeps to himself. it sure would be nice to have a friend here though. I mean, what could it hurt?