Harry sat starring at his legs. Why are they so fat? He would repeat endlessly to himself. This had gone on for 2 hours. Him picking out the tiniest things and putting himself down. His stomach groaned inconsistently but e had learned to ignore it. He would walk back and forth in the small room just for that bit exercise he was forbidden. For he didn't see what everyone else saw, which wasn't much. His fragile body just skin and bone. His cloths hanging off him like a rag doll. He didn't see that. All he saw was fat. He didn't see the huge gap between his thighs. He saw then pushed together by fat. He didn't see hi ribs when he got undressed. He saw folds of fat.
He wasn't going mad in this place though, he didn't see much difference. His life had already been snatched way by his little friend. She had made it so all he saw was fat, all he heard was her. Ana.
"Your gonna eat that? Fine you'll get even more fat!" She would say each time a fork would come near his mouth or a crust of bread was placed in his hand. Sometimes she would go away, but Harry would break down. He would claw at his skin and bite his nails.
Sometimes he would have nervous breakdowns from not being able to weigh himself. But he had a weighing day every week, too see his progress. For him it was a spurt of happiness to see the scale yet another few numbers lower. But for the workers it was another failed day.
He had seen Louis stick up for him, and he couldn't help but wonder 'why?'
Why would anyone stick up for a fat, worthless nobody like him?
But someone had. He had also seen that someone taken away. So it must have been a mistake to stick up for him.
Those were his thoughts. Louis were quite different. Louis knew where he was and he didn't like it. He knew the only way out was to stop.
Stop scaring his skin horrid stories. Shut the voices up in his head. But he also worried for Harry. That little skinny, quite kid whom he Stuck up for. He didn't see why he was put here and not those jerks! They are the reason he lashed out. And he couldn't understand why that boy wouldn't eat. That beautiful boy. The one with the curly hair and bright green eyes. The eyes of a persons who had a story to tell. Does he not see how skinny he is?
It was then that he knew he had to get better, then he wouldn't be under such strict conditions, then he could see that boy. The bit he didn't understand. The boy that made his feel things he had never felt for a long time. The boy that brought back so many memories of his childhood. A childhood of horror, memories that were locked up in his scars.
Harry didn't have scars, but his brain held enough memories. Memories of prodding and pointing. Of words and insults. Of being last at all sport. Of eating to fill an empty gap.
"You ready?"
Harry's head turned from the barred window.
"Breakfast" the lady said
Harry shook his head.
"Well you need it so come on" she beckoned him out
"No I don't" Harry spoke hardly audio able. The lay smiled.
"Have you seen yourself Harry?" She asked
"Yes, that's why I don't need it" he answered
"Harry you really do need it" she persisted
"Have you looked at me? Can you see me?" He asked
The woman nodded "but hardly"
YOU ARE READING
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Fanfiction"Why do you have scars?" "I've been fighting" "Who against?" "Myself"
