Chapter 12

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Chapter 12

I always wished that the world wasn't so cruel. I remembered sitting in my room at home, wrapped in a blanket because I never seemed to be able to warm my bones, and just staring outside. The world kept spinning, people continued to exist even though all I wanted to do was not.

Not exist.

With tears in my eyes, I knew how insignificant I truly was in the world. I mean, someone somewhere was probably finding out that their life was about to end; someone somewhere was holding their newborn child, excited for the rest of their lives. Yet, all I could do was dwell in my own bubble of misery.

The skinny boy house became another bubble. At times it didn't feel so horrible; however, the majority of the time I found myself trying to forget where I was. The boys helped. Geoffrey and Rich's antics never made for a boring day.

Hell, we all even managed to get away with a food fight! Ruth was ballistic, of course; she went on and on about how we were wasting food and just causing a disruption so we could get away with not eating.

Long story short, we ended up having to eat in silence for the next few days.

Despite the distractions, it was the nights that always reminded me where I was. No matter how hard I tried, I always found myself wrapped around the obsession over my weight. The sad thing was that I knew I was healthier; I knew I was getting better.

I just didn't feel any better.

In fact, I felt worse.

When I slipped away into the bathroom, I didn't look at myself in the mirror. I was afraid of what I would see. I simply couldn't bare to see myself in such a condition.

I just wanted to close my eyes and make everything disappear.

I wanted to disappear.

Rich seemed to be on the same page as me, and with time, he seemed to radiate a darkness. At first, he played by the rules, eating his meals and following each and every command. He even passed room inspection with only a few off-hand comments about Ruth's chubby fingers; however, in a matter of weeks, Rich evoked the darkness, pulling it into his being.

He began to fight back. He refused his meals; he refused to talk in therapy. It didn't take long for Ruth to resort to strapping him down to the chair and force feeding him.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

Hell, it scared me. It scared me more than I ever wanted to admit.

The strangest thing about the whole experience was no matter how much Ruth tried, she couldn't extinguish the fire behind his eyes. The more she tried; the harder he resisted.

Ruth ended up with food spit in her eyes many a nights. Still, she never called his parents; she never threatened to have him sent away.

"She's all talk," he would say as we all huddled in Steven's room. It became a headquarters of sorts, and we spent most of our free time together just hanging out.

The skinny boy club.

The thin men.

In a way, Ruth was all talk; however, the day she, with the nurse behind her, threatened to have a feeding tube shoved down his throat was the day Rich begrudgingly nibbled on his food.

I had so many nightmares after that. Every night I found myself tied to a chair with a tube being forced down my throat. No matter how much I screamed or kicked or fought, I couldn't free myself.

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