𝑩𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝒀𝒐𝒓𝒌 { PREQUEL}

Five

I had my suspicions about Aiden's eating disorder long before his first health scare.

I could tell that something was definitely wrong by the end of eighth grade. He had become incredibly skinny in only the span of a few months. But he wasn't fit.

Aiden was no longer muscle. He lost the roundness of his face, which was replaced with sharp cheekbones and sunken eyes; pale skin and chipped nails. He was merely a skeleton--skin and bones with no real muscle or definition. His hair was thinning out, lips always chapped, teeth beginning to rot.

The smaller he became, the larger clothes that he wore--as if he enjoyed the feeling of being swallowed up.

Then he stopped interacting with us completely.

He barely left his room to join us for dinner, and the times that he did, he said not one word--merely staring at his full plate with no intention of eating his food.

Our walks to school were silent.

At first, I tried to talk to him, but he was adamant about ignoring my existence--as if the mere fact that I was breathing seemed to be an annoyance to him.

The moment we arrived at school, he would always ditch me immediately, going God knows where and leaving me to be lost in the crowd.

Most importantly, when we would arrive at home, he'd head straight to his room, slamming his door shut and barely coming out until the next day.

I think the worst part about it, was that I felt like I was the only one that noticed it. I was the only one that was concerned about his health and sanity--about his absence. People at school seemed to praise him for his weight-loss, and most of the time when my parents did notice Aiden, they seemed to grow annoyed by him.

My mother was mad at Aiden because he no longer accompanied us on the days that we had family day; the days when she used to complain about him being slow at sports. Now, her complaints were transformed into rants about him: "He's so lazy, Mia. He's not even active anymore." She'd grumble. Then she'd always follow it up with, "Don't know how he lost all of that weight...he barely leaves that room as it is."

It felt as if the relationship between my mom and Aiden had fizzled out.

With Dad, it was worse because he constantly grilled Aiden whenever given a chance.

"You're just skin and bones now son, need to get some muscle on you." My Dad would say, ruffling Aiden's curls. "Can't have you walking around like this, can we?"

I hated the way that they talked to him--how he would go through a tough day at school, come home and face even worse treatment from our 'parents'. It ruined me to see the way that his shoulders slumped with each passing day, how empty his eyes became, how lifeless he always looked. He was no longer the joyful and charismatic brother that I knew. Just someone that happened to share the same blood as me; who was caving in as time passed on.

I hated the way he ignored me no matter how many times I tried to help, no matter how many times I tried to talk to him or sneak him food. I hated the way he pushed me away, how he treated me worse than everyone else in his life, despite the fact that I cared the most.

But most of all, I hated the way that I was the only one who noticed Aiden; while everyone else was praising him on his weight-loss, or shunning him for being so lifeless, I was the only one that seemed to be mourning the loss of my brother. Because he wasn't the Aiden that I grew up with. And it sucked to know that I'd never see that Aiden ever again.