Broken Minds

When he got back to his apartment he carried his bags in and sat down on the couch. He hadn’t even gotten comfortable when his cell rang, shattering the peace in the otherwise quiet apartment.

“Hello?” William answered with a yawn.

“Hey Bilvy.” It was Gabe. “How’s it going?” He sounded too happy.

“It’s going. Just got home.” William answered, trying his best to keep his exhaustion out of his voice.

“You sound beat dude, I’ll let you go and get some sleep.” William was thankful and almost forgot to tell him goodbye before hanging up.

He got up off the black leather couch with a groan and made his way to the bedroom. He thought of lying down and going to sleep right then, but he had to take a proper shower, which was something he hadn’t got since the night Zach broke his reality. He stripped his clothes off and made his way into the bathroom. He was hungry again but was trying not to eat. He’d already purged earlier in the day when he slipped up.

He caught his arm on the shower door, causing a little scrape just below his elbow of his right arm. He hissed because it stung slightly, but then he looked at the blood seeping out of the tiny mark. His fascination towards the mark pushed the hunger pains out of his mind.

William stood under the flow of the hot water and watched as it washed away all traces of the blood on his arm. He took his time washing the scum off his body and out of his hair as he thought about the cut and the blood and how it took his mind off getting something to eat. He started to wonder if that would always work.

Stepping out of the shower, he glanced at the mirror fogged up from the steam of the shower. He grabbed a towel and made a quick swipe across the reflective glass. Looking at himself, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. He looked the same in his eyes, like he still hadn’t lost any weight.

“Fuck,” he cursed to himself. He thought he should have seen at least a small difference, but there was nothing.

Making his way back into his bedroom, he stood in front of his dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers and slipped them on. He looked down at his body and decided to grab a tee and a pair of flannel pants. He didn't want to have to look at himself anymore.

Once he was fully clothed, William went throughout the rest of his apartment and turned off all the lights before heading back to bed. He crawled into bed and covered himself with blankets, loving the feeling the security they gave. They shielded him from anyone being able to see anything. They hid how fat he was and even though no one else was with him in that room, he felt better and he was finally able to close his eyes and fall asleep.

In the morning, William woke up and within moments his stomach was already growling. He climbed out of bed and made his way to the kitchen and started rummaging through the cupboards. He found some cereal and made himself a bowl, still not fully awake. He sat at the table and started to munch on it. He only had about four bites when he looked down at the spoonful in front of his mouth. It clicked.

He dropped the spoon as if it had burned him. William jumped up and dumped the rest of the cereal down the garbage disposal before clicking it on and watching it go down the drain. He ran through his apartment and dropped to his knees as quick as possible in front of the toilet. Without thinking twice, William shoved his fingers down his throat, bringing back up the little bit he had just ate. It burned and his eyes watered as he gagged on his own fingers. He managed to get most of it the first time. However, for safe measures, he did it again two more times. He didn't want his progress to be undone thanks to an early morning slip. Even more exhausted than he had been before, he reached up and flushed the toilet as he laid his head on his arm resting on the seat. He was breathing hard and his stomach hurt from the retching.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he rasped out. His voice was scratchy and hoarse. He sat back against the wall and let the tears fall. He had to gain better control over himself, he couldn’t keep slipping up.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat in there crying on the floor, but when he finally regained control he got up and rinsed out his mouth. He slowly made into his bedroom to get dressed. He’d got a text while in the bathroom from Zach; he was on his way over.

William had barely enough time to get changed when there was a knock in his door. He rushed to the door and swung it open to reveal Zach standing there, hands shoved in his pockets. He looked at William and gave a half smile after looking up and down William’s body.

“I know, I know. I’m working on it,” came William’s reply to the unasked question.

“Good.” Zach said, sliding past William and into the apartment. He sat down on the couch with a thump. He kicked his feet up and rested them on the coffee table, shoes and all. William's apartment was practically his second place, he always made himself feel at home, even when he knew it made William feel uncomfortable. He knew William hated cleaning scuff marks off the wood, but he also knew William would never say anything about it. It was clear who had the control, and Zach intended to keep it that way.

William sat down next to Zach on his couch and looked at his feet. Zach laughed at the anger in William’s eyes. He loved to torture him. Zach’s laugh ended as quick as it came and he just turned to William and looked to his own feet.
“Look, William.” He started. “We need to talk.” William folded his hands in his lap, a sign he was nervous. “See the thing is, I know we haven’t been together very long. I had fun on tour with you those last few weeks. But this just isn’t going to work out. I just can’t date someone as fat as you. You aren’t losing weight fast enough.” He chanced a quick glance at the boy beside him and saw a blank expression; obviously he didn’t know what to feel.
“I’m trying Zach, I am.” William pleaded.
“You’re not doing enough. It’s not coming off fast enough. You still look the same to me Bill.” Zach wasn’t going to give in.
“Give me more time. I just need a little more time. Please Zach?” Tears threatened his eyes. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be.
“Honestly, I’ve given you plenty of time. I thought you’d lose it while I was with you. That was my mistake. I shouldn’t have gotten with you from the start.” Zach’s voice was cold.
“No, don’t do this. I promise I’ll lose however much weight you want me to lose. I’ll look how you want me to.” William’s voice was getting shaky as the realization slowly setting in.
“Nope. I’m done. It’s too late, I’ve made up my mind. Besides, I’ve already found someone else. Someone perfect.” Zach got up and let himself out.
When the door shut William lied his head back against the couch and let out a heavy sigh. Things were worse than he imagined. He was fatter than he ever thought possible. His weight had just cost him a boyfriend, which never happened before. He had to change. A single tear slid down his cheek, a single tear at the loss of who he thought he was.

The first thing William did was get up and make his way to the kitchen. He grabbed the container of ice cream in his freezer. It was old and stale and terribly frost bitten. It tasted nasty, but William felt like he needed it. It was comfort. He couldn’t believe his boyfriend broke up with him over his weight. Half the container was eaten by the time he looked down.

The thought of Zach dumping him kept going through his mind. What was wrong with him? What could he change besides his weight? Was he just not good enough? He'd had his share of breakups before, but none so painful. Had he loved Zach? Was that why it hurt so bad? Or was it simply because Zach had been the only one who had ever been truly honest with him, and he'd already lost him.

He decided right then that he couldn't eat anything more. He looked down at his lap where the container of half eaten, nasty, fat inducing poisons, lay. All he felt was disgust. He threw the container down onto the coffee table and bolted back to the bathroom for the second time that day.

William shivered as he felt the chill from the ice cream and the bite from the acidity of the bile at the back of his throat. He had never tasted anything so repulsive before.

After rinsing out his mouth, he stood holding onto the sink. His eyes were rimmed in red from the tears shed, so many in such a short amount of time. He hated seeing himself like that. No wonder Zach hadn’t wanted to be with him anymore. It wasn’t just his weight. It was everything about himself. There was nothing redeeming staring him back in the mirror, and he couldn't bear to look anymore. He took a step out of the tiny room and looked to the living room where he saw that stupid container of ice cream.

He ran in there and snatched it off the table, then rushed into the kitchen where he promptly threw it in the trash can. Feeling liberated by his actions, he let rash compulsion control him. William threw open the cupboards and cabinets and started grabbing out everything inside. Everything needed to go. There would be no more temptations. He kept going until the cabinets were bare, throwing the boxes and bags of food on the floor after he'd managed to fill the trash can to the top.

Then he moved to the refrigerator. He opened a new garbage bag and started emptying out the cold contents, leaving only bottled water. Within minutes both the fridge and the freezer had been purged of their contents. Now his stomach wouldn't have to be the only empty thing in the house. He tied the bags shut pulled them out to the dumpster so that he wouldn't have to handle it being in his apartment any longer.

Worn out, William closed his door and walked into the kitchen and with a heavy sigh. He looked in his cupboards and refrigerator and saw emptiness, just like he felt. He finally felt a measure of satisfaction; there were no more temptations, nothing could ruin him again.

He leaned against the doorframe between rooms and slid down until he was seated on the floor. Looking around him, he hated what he saw. He was alone in every sense of the word. He no longer had a boyfriend, no longer had any comfort hiding in food, no one else in his apartment, not even friends to help him through the jumbled up mess of emotions in his mind. He fought back the tears threatening to fall once again from cried out and tired eyes.

He just sat there thinking. What could he do now? How does he keep from finding a way to slip up? How was he even supposed to feel now? Would he still lose weight with no food around? What was he going to do if he wanted food, how would he curb those urges? How was he going to hide his new habit, if that’s what he could call it, from his band mates?

His band. He couldn't let them down. They were his closest friends, they knew him best. He wouldn't let his tendency to fail ruin them too. He had to keep busy, keep working. He could write songs still. At least if he was busy writing, he wouldn’t think of food. All he had to do was keep his hands and his thoughts occupied. That sounded like the only logical conclusion in his mind.

He quickly got up and grabbed his notebook from his bedroom, then sat in a corner on the floor in his room. He wanted to be as far away from where temptations once were, afraid they’d still be there even though he knew they weren’t. He knew his fear was irrational, but weren't most fears? He sat there with his knees drawn up with the notebook on his lap, pencil in hand poised over the clean paper ready to write. Nothing came to him. He stared at that same sheet of paper, nothing ever appearing, for several hours.

“I can’t do this, I need a break. Then I’ll try again,” he rationed out loud to himself as he set his things aside and stood up. He headed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water of his refrigerator and stared looking inside it at the nothingness. It was habit for him to look for food when he got something to drink. He continued looking through his cupboards and at how naked they were.

He started opening the cupboards that never held food thinking maybe he had hid something and forgot about it. When he did, a plate fell out smacking the countertop shattering into pieces. William had tried to catch the pieces before they hit the floor and managed to catch one in his hand only for it to scrape across leaving a cut.

“Fuck,” he cursed out. It had stung but something in his mind snapped. He grabbed the piece of glass and looked at it, studying it carefully. He turned it over and over in his hand until he just held it firmly in his left hand poised over his right wrist. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them after feeling a burn on his skin he saw a red mark. He placed the edge again at where the mark started and repeated it with his eyes wide open, tracing it over several times until there was more than a scratch. It oozed crimson.

William stood there watching as it quickly stopped bleeding and threw the shard away on his way to the sink. He turned the faucet on and hissed when the water hit the fresh wound. It didn’t last long and realized the release he got from seeing and feeling what he just had made his hunger disappear. He felt better afterwards. Like he was at peace with himself, proud he hadn’t ate anything even if there wasn’t anything left to eat in his place.

He carefully picked up the rest of the broken plate and discarded it. Making his way back through his apartment he went back into his corner and picked up the paper and pencil again and sat on the carpet. Nothing was coming to him yet again. Frustrated, he placed his arms on his knees and buried his face in them letting out a discouraged sigh. He didn’t know what to do. He knew he needed to get some new songs wrote, but he couldn’t find anything in him to write about, real or fake.

Later that night William found himself scurrying about looking for something, anything. He was hungry and he’d already threw out that broken plate. He needed his release and he couldn’t find anything to help. As a last resort he grabbed a plate out of the cabinet and threw it down hard to the floor. Seeing it shatter he was pleased and grabbed a decent size shard and stood over the sink and without thinking sliced into his arm several times. Upon seeing the crimson and feeling the relief it brought he placed his head down on his left arm on the counter breathing deeply letting the urge dissipate with the blood dripping off his arm down the drain.

Minutes later he was washing his arm off and the evidence out of the stainless steel of the sink. He didn’t want to keep breaking plates; that was number two in one day, so he placed the shard he had just used off to the side and swept up the rest throwing it in the trash. Once he was sure he wouldn’t cut his feet on broken glass he grabbed his precious saving grace and looked at it. There was a tiny trace of blood on the tip so he rinsed it off and placed it in the back of his silverware drawer for safe keeping.