She looks at the reflection. It is grotesque. Fat hanging over the tight jeans. I'm not hungry tonight, she tells herself. Even though she can feel the sharp stabs of hunger in her stomach.
She walks in the room and lies down on the bed. She puts a hand on her stomach, trying to muffle the groans she can hear.
I'm okay, she says to herself.
She hears him coming up the stairs. He would always come up the stairs. Every night. He was so patient with her. Nothing but kind, even when she screamed and kicked and fought for him to go away.
He knocks slowly on the frame of her doorway. She says nothing....
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