scream 'til there's silence - - open thread.

[jay]

[/i] to start his mornings. Now he had vital signs, and a blind weigh in. And breakfast; ew. Typically, when he was in starvation mode, he skipped breakfast, and puked up lunch and dinner. Now he couldn't do that. Three square, healthy calorie laden and greasy meals a day.

This place wasn't all bad, though. It was very easy for him to get the drugs he so craved. Which is what he had his mind set on at that very moment.

Quinn slammed his back against the wall and slid to a sitting position, a pout fixed on his thin face. There were people in here that tongued their medicine and saved them. Everyone did that. The problem was, finding someone who'd be willing to trade. It wasn't as easy as screaming, "I WANT DRUGS", which was his typical approach to things. That was what got him kicked out of places before. Eating disorder units didn't like him so much.

He began to rock back and forth, fingers raked into his hair. At first, it was just an act. But then the real anxiety poured in, and his strangled cries were real.

Why wouldn't they let him see his weight? He'd manage to purge a couple of meals and exercise, but he still felt the fat bubbling up beneath his skin. Quinn pinched hard at the fat underneath his belly button so hard it would leave a welt.

Quinn began to hyperventilate - he'd kill to see the weight of his sins just once, so he could act accordingly. Just once.
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