I Measure My Self-Worth by the Numbers on the Scales

Frank’s P.O.V:

Gerard was propped up by his pillows when I woke up. He’d brought his knees up to his chest and was sketching into a pad. His thin hand swept and curved the pencil to perfection, getting it to do exactly what he wanted. His face bore a look of pure concentration.

I sat up blearily and rubbed my eyes, my comic book sliding off my chest. I’d fallen asleep while reading it; how embarrassing. Gerard looked over at me and smiled briefly before refocusing his attention on his sketchpad.

“What are you drawing?” I croaked hoarsely.

“Just doodling, to be honest,” He replied, flicking the pencil back and forth over the sketchpad “It’s like a hobby of mine.”

“Fair enough,” I shrugged “I like to play in my spare time.”

“What d’you play?” He questioned.

“Guitar,” I smiled.

“You any good?”

“I like to think so.”

He laughed and continued to shade in his little doodle. I leant over to see what he was drawing but he shyly covered it with his arms. My head cocked to one side as he did so and gave me an unconvincing smile.

"What is it?"

"I just. . . I don't like people seeing my drawings."

"Please?"

He rolled his eyes and told me to feel honoured as he lowered his arms and revealed the doodles of several super-hero like characters. They were. . . amazing. No other way of putting it. They were amazing. I gazed in awe at them. This guy had some serious talent locked up in there.

"They're incredible!" I complimented "You should definitely be an artist!"

"I dunno'. . ."

"Hell, yeah! How can you doubt yourself when you can draw like that?"

"I guess I'm used to looking down on myself."

"You shouldn't," I insisted "You're really talented."

"Thanks."

There was a sharp knock at the door, making us both jump. Clare shyly poked her head round the door and gave us both a warm smile. Neither of us returned the gesture. I much resented her intrution. I was well on my way to making my first friend here.

"You guys ready for breakfast?" She questioned.

Never in a million years.

"Nope," Gerard replied determinedly.

She shook her head at us both. I curled up into a little ball defiantly as she entered the room and sat in front of me with her legs crossed. Gerard did not look pleased at her entry.

"I know it's hard for you guys," She said "But you have to do this. You need to understand that you guys aren't healthy being as underweight as you are."

I groaned to myself, staring down at the carpet and refusing to look her in the eye. Gerard scowled and crossed his arms. She looked at us almost as if she were pleading with us. I sighed pathetically, picking at a loose thread from the carpet.

"Please guys? At least come sit downstairs and introduce yourselves?"

"Fine," I sighed.

"If I have to." . . .

. . . The smell in the kitchen made me feel sick. Bacon. Bacon. And they expect a vegetarian to eat that? I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the sight of the dripping rashers being slapped up onto a plate for everyone.

"I'm not eating that," I said firmly.

"Frank, please sit down and eat the food," Clare urged.

"I'm vegetarian."

"Oh," She wavered "Are you serious?"

I nodded.

"You're not just saying it so you don't have to eat as much?"

"I. Am. A. Vegetarian," I stated sloooooowly "Vegetarians. Do. Not. Eat. Meat. What. Part. Do. You. Not. Get?"

"Okay, fine," She replied, tripping over herself "Everything except the bacon. That sound fair?"

"Can't I have cereal?"

She sighed to herself before nodding. So one of the ladies cooking all the food handed me one of the bowls of cereal. I looked in fearfully. Bits of crispy cereal, drowning in what was definitely full-fat milk. It made my stomach churn.

There was a long table of girls. All eating their way through bowls of cereal or fried breakfasts. They were all really skinny and pretty. I bowed my head and asked if I could sit next to one of the girls. She had silvery blonde hair, tied up into a sleek ponytail, and pretty sapphire eyes. She shifted over with a friendly smile and let me sit down. I managed a weak smile and seated myself next to her.

For what felt like ages, I was staring into the bowl of cereal. A sinister evil pool of white with little crispy prisoners floating around, crying for help. My eyes narrowed in hatred. I should've told them I was vegan.

I lifted a spoon, feeling every pair of eyes in the room on me. Before dipping it in and eating the cereal, I pushed the cereal with my spoon so that it was sticking up the bowl and away from the milk. Then I waited a moment until the milk had dripped down away from the cereal and scooped some up. The spoon hovered in front of me for a moment while I carefully scrutinised the cereal in front of me.

"I can't. . . I can't. . ."

"Please eat it, Frank," Clare said, crouching down so she was level with me "We don't want to force-feed you."

Tears pricked my eyes when I looked back at the food in front of me. I felt pathetic. I should crawl under a rock and die. Who cries over food?! Me apparantly. But I'm just a pathetic piece of meat on bone.

Gerard was standing sullenly in the corner, watching me with some strange fascination. He looked curious as I regretfully brought the spoon closer. Green slime oozed from me as I parted my lips slowly and let the calorie dripping cereal into the black abyss of my mouth.

You're pathetic.

Tears welled up menacingly, flooding my eyes and threatening to break free and drown the room in a lost salty ocean.

More mouthfuls of sinful things that I shouldn't be giving in to.

You're pathetic.

The first naughty little tear broke free from its crowding prison and rolled down my cheek in a desperate bid for freedom. Its icy path was left on my face and down my neck as it ran.

You're pathetic.

More I ate.

More mouthfuls of disgusting fat filled substances that would lead me closer to a full stomach and a bloated body.

More of that stuff that would undeniably push everyone away from me and leave me curled up in a dark box.

A spinster.

You're pathetic

You're pathetic

You're pathetic.

My stomach churned menacingly and I froze, spoon in mid-air.

"I think I'm gonna' be sick," I mumbled, jumping up and running for the door, Clare hot on my heels.