Starving for Perfection

Jack rolled over in his bed; looking at the clock on his nightstand. 7:15. He got up, thinking that he might as well get ready for school. He didn't get any sleep last night, but that was pretty normal for him.

Jack moved to his bathroom and turned on the shower. He then stripped down to his boxers, turning to look in the mirror. Jack sighed. He was so fat and the scars on his thighs and wrist just made it worst, but that was in Jack's eyes.

He closed his eyes for a second before turning and entering the warm shower. He sighed contently as the water ran down his back, loosening his muscles. Jack reached for his shampoo, washing his hair thoroughly. After he washed he shampoo out and he washed his body he excited the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and going to his room.

Jack threw on a pair of dark skinny jeans, which was hard considering he just got out of the shower, and a Green Day shirt. Walking to the bathroom, Jack was towel drying his hair.

Once he got to the bathroom he threw his towel in the hamper and got started on his hair.
After ten minutes Jack's hair was straight ironed and styled and his teeth were brushed. He nodded as moved back to his room, throwing on a grey sweatshirt. He grabbed his book bag and left down the stairs.

"Bye mom, I'm going to school now," he said as he popped into the kitchen to say bye.

She smiled and turned from where she was making toast, "You want anything to eat? You have some time."

Jack shook his head quickly, the thought of eating making him sick. "Nah, I'm okay," he said and quickly moved through the door before she could protest.

He sighed softly as he took off for the walk to school. He hated lying to his mom, he hated lying to anyone. But he couldn't just be like, "Oh, no I don't eat because I'm too fat. Oh by the way, I haven't eaten in two days." And he didn't want anyone to know that he wasn't eating, they'd call him a freak.

A faint smile played at Jack's lips when he felt his stomach growl, he liked the feeling of it. Almost as much as he liked the feeling of sliding a blade across his wrist of thighs. All too soon, Jack took a turn into school, his anxiety rising as he stepped into the building.

Jack was halfway to his locker, and he was pretty sure none of the football players weren't going to mess with him today, but he was wrong.

Jack took a sharp in take of breath as he was shoved against the lockers. He looked up to see three of the football players surrounding him with smirks on their faces, the middle one holding Jack against the lockers.

"Did you think you'd get by without getting a beating, fag?" The middle one asked with a smirk. "Did ya, fag?" He asked again when Jack didn't respond.

Jack shook his head in response and then he immediately had a fist punching him in the stomach, making Jack whimper. Jack was shoved to the ground and got millions of kicks all over his body, the words "fag", "ugly", "fat" and "loser" being thrown at him as he lie helplessly on the hard, cold floor of the hallway.

Finally after a few minutes Jack was left alone on the floor, blood coming from his nose and his body aching. He closed his eyes, hearing footsteps echoing in the halls.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" A worried voice asked, one that Jack didn't recognize. Jack didn't respond, but he opened his eyes to see a boy with golden hair a light brown eyes and a worried look on his face. "Let me take you to the nurse," he said as he helped Jack up and helped him to the nurse.

After almost four years of going to this school he's never seen this boy before, but he's not surprised as he usually tries to avoid most people.

When Jack got to the nurse he was cleaned up, but told to go home because he was far too hurt to be here. Jack agreed almost immediately because he'd rather go home than get beat again after school.

Jack left the nurses office, seeing the boy who helped him waiting outside. He raised an eyebrow as the boy walked over to him.

"Hey, you're okay?" And Jack nodded softly. "Oh, good. I'm Alex, by the way," he said with a smile.

It took Jack a second, but he replied. "I'm Jack and thank you by the way," he said quietly, not use to talking to people.

"No problem, but I should really get to class now," Alex said with a small laugh as Jack nodded and Alex turned on his heel and left.

Jack didn't know how to feel about Alex. He seemed okay, but Jack could never be sure. Before Jack could think anymore he turned to leave, walking out of the school door.

The walk home was short, five minutes or so. He was glad he lived close to the school, it was an easy walk. The whole walk home Jack was thinking about Alex. Why did he help him? Jack didn't know. When most people saw Jack lying on the ground getting beat up, they usually just walked away. So Jack found it a little strange that out of no where he just helped him. Jack usually had to wait until a teacher found him and helped him to the nurses office.

When Jack got home he was thankfully that his mom was at work, even though she'd eventually see his beat up face. He went to his front door and pulled it open, walking inside. He immediately went to his bedroom sighing contently as he plopped down on his bed. Jack's stomach growled, which made him smile. It was sick, that starving himself made him happy. The growling in his stomach was painful, but he enjoyed the pain. It was less than when he self harmed, but it was still pain and he loved it.

Jack jumped slightly when his phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, seeing a text from Rian.

'Hey Jack, where are you?'

Jack quickly replied, 'I'm at home, not feeling well.'

He didn't get a reply after that. Jack knew that he was hurting Rian. Jack also knew that Rian had some sort of faint picture of what he's doing to himself. Rian is Jack's only friend and Jack was thankful for him.

Jack stood up, biting his lip as he made his way to the bathroom. He pulled open the wooden drawer an grabbed the razor that sat in the left corner under a pack of floss. He grinned as he ran his finger over the cold metal that he grew to love over the years. He's been doing damage to himself for over two years. His thighs and wrist were covered with scars and fresh cuts from yesterday, but he was determined to make more.

So he shrugged off his sweatshirt and pants. He pulled up the end of his boxers to reveal rows and rows of cuts. He slowly pressed the metal to his thigh and dragged a smile on his face. Before he knew it, there was fresh seen cuts lining his thigh and a smile on his face.

'This is sick,' Jack thought. It was sick though; that this much pain can give Jack so much release and make him smile.