EAT » [ziam]

nine

[Down on the West Coast, they gotta sayin’: if you’re not drinkin’, then your’e not playin’]

~**~

Zayn felt a sudden grogginess as his eyelids seeped open. He pulled himself up by holding onto his wrinkly bedsheets. Zayn's ribs were visible as his body reclined until he was sitting up. His tongue smacked lightly against the roof of his month. He always had a dry mouth in the morning.

Zayn turns himself and pushes his feet down. Once they make contact with the carpet-floor, Zayn lifts all his weight up with his bony legs until he's fully standing. He rubs the left side of his temple and groans. He didn't get much sleep last night; he was thinking about what Harry had told him last night.

He walks over to his mirror; something he obsessed over. Mirrors reflect your image, and that was something Zayn wasn't confident in.

Zayn places his hands on his sharp edgy waist and thinks he sees a stretch mark.

Damn was he getting fat.

Zayn slips back on his shirt and puts over it a baggy 'Pabst-Blue-Ribbon' sweater trying to conceal his imaginary lumps. He slips on a pair of moccasins and walks back down stairs to the sound of sizzling bouncing off the walls of the house.

His mother Trisha was cooking some bacon and eggs over the stove for some breakfast. "Zayn dear, you're up finally!"

Zayn smiles and walks inside the kitchen and reaches for a glass in the cupboard. "Are you gonna have some eggs dear?" asks his mother, hope gleaming in her warm eyes.

Zayn could see the grease spewing from the pan, sizzling and popping. He wouldn't dare touch such a thing. Zayn nods as usual. "I'll just get some OJ," he responds, hoping it'd get him off the hook.

"Well okay," is all she mumbles before turning back and scraping her spatula around to finish cooking the eggs.

Zayn grips the cold refrigerator door and pulls it open. An excessive amount of junk food is visible inside. It feels as though they're all calling his name. Like the inanimate objects had some sort of persuasion.

Zayn blinks a few times and quickly grabs a container of Minute-Maid orange juice, then shuts it without hesitation. He pours the contents into the glass and darts for his room until he's stopped by his mother.

"Don't forget we have our family get together at the beach today," mentions Trisha.

"Do I really have to go mum? I feel sick and what not," complains Zayn.

"You're going and thats final," she commands.

"Okay..."

~**~

Once in his room, Zayn sets his glass of orange juice down on a desk and digs around in his room for his desired object. After finding the cotton swabs, he grabs a few and hurries back to his desk and dips the end of a swab in the juice.

Zayn has done a little research online for tactics on how models stay so thin. He found a remedy to calm hunger by dipping cotton swabs in orange juice and eating it. As gross and displeasing as it sounded, Zayn was dying to be thin.

Zayn puckers his lips slightly and put the damp swab to his lips. He sucks on it and chews on the cotton until it's gone. He decides to dip another side and eat it as well. After a while, you got used to the taste and it wasn't that bad.