Daniel sat down at the edge of the couch in the dark room. The unnatural glow of the t.v. shone on his sickly complexion. His thin, shaking hand lost the grip on the remote and watched as it crashed to the ground. Shaking all over, he pulled himself into the fetal position on the dark couch. His empty blue eyes, which used to have such fire in them, such passion to live, now stared dully at the t.v.
What are they saying?
He didn't care.
Hadn't he seen this movie before?
Oh Well.
Looking down at the messily strewn papers at the floor, he read some of the almost incoherent words.
"Steam will rise"
'All my friends say get up...."
"Won't you stop my pain?"
His head started to hurt from trying to make out the words in the darkness. Why was it so hard? Why couldn't he just leave the house and join all his friends in the sun? Why did he have to smother himself in such darkness? Sadly, he thought of Ben and Chris. How they had been such loyal friends, how they had come over to see if he was o.k. and he pushed them away.
"They left you in the darkness"
"Shut Up!!!"
"You know i'm right...."
Closing his eyes, Daniel heard the cries for nourishment coming from his body.
"Not again" he whispered in the darkness.
Everyday the same argument happened. The rational part of his body tried to overpower his will. They fought all the time. Daniel would just sit there listening, sort of like a spectator in his own body. He almost had it memorized.
"You really need some food"
"No, I can do this, you're trying to make me fail again"
"Look how sick you are. Eat something"
"No"
"Why not? Just a little bit..."
"I don't need it!!"
He started to slam his tiny wrist into his ribs, making purple and blue bruises among the pale flesh. That's when he noticed the tears streaming down his face. Beaten and defeated, he slowly and shakily went to the kitchen and got an apple.
Practically forcing the repulsive food down his throat, he lay on the floor, wallowing in self-defeat. Seconds later he was shooting down the hall towards the bathroom, letting the nourishment spill out of him again.
"Aw...."
He had gotten vomit in his stringy blond hair. Supporting himself up with the cabinet, he got up and washed himself in the sink. Looking at the image in the mirror disturbed him. He was so slender you could almost see every bone in his body, very pale, he looked.... dead.
"That's what you are....this isn't living, you're dead."
Then the pink lips in the reflection started to mock him.
"I win, you're dead"
In a fit of anger he punched the mirror and started to pull at the pieces. With blood pouring down from where the glass had made contact with his skin, he slid down the wall with his head buried in his knees weeping silently
"How am I ever going to survive this?"
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