He said you looked pretty.
So did she.
So did your mother, with such affection that you’re sure she’s blinded by it.
You smile and wink in response with a blistering bravado that fades the moment you’re behind locked doors and dark curtains.
Your eyes are haunted with how much you’ve starved and you see this in the ever faulty image. You see that hunch and the disappearing of cheekbones. You see the roundness of your arms and your middle and it’s taking everything in you to not punch and scream and thrash your head against the wall. The inner turmoil only seen by the tears you hold back and the food you throw up because those are the 2 things which you can never keep down.