~Told in the demon Anorexia's point of view~
He stood there awkwardly, black hair swept into his beautiful eyes. Oh, can he see how much he doesn't need to eat? He's on his way to thin, he doesn't need distractions like this. My eyes glitter, a vibrant clearness, as I sweep my arm out. His muscles clench in his neck and arms as he sits, grabbing the smallest plate in the stack. Sweetie, control, control. His eyes narrow, taking in the dinner scene. Everyone filling their plates, making a mess stuffing their faces. So sickening. His body jerks, such a little movement no one notices. Putting little amounts on his plate, he moves bits of food around, lifting the fork every now and then, creating the visual of eating. Shoving away from the table, he glances around, eyes scared, before he takes his plate out, tossing the food away. Such a good boy. Another sleepless night of holding your waist and wishing you'd never met me. How would you ever live without me? He walks to his room, locking the door, locking the bathroom door, waiting for his body's reaction to the missed food, the missed energy. His eyes drop to the floor, a shiny tear slipping down his cheek.
"Why do I do this to myself?" He whispers quietly, hoping no one hears him, but I do. A smile spreads my cracked lips. Because, baby, you can't get enough of thin.
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