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Alfred sat on the floor, back pressed against his bed. After eating dinner with Mattie, Arthur, and Francis, all that was left was a clean plate and an over whelming sense of guilt that washed over himself.
Fuck, why did I have to do that? I said I would start taking my diet seriously yesterday. Yet here I am.
Al’s thoughts consumed his whole being; but still, he knew that change had to start with him.
“I just want to feel like I’m in control again…”
He spoke quietly to himself. A little urge turned into a larger desire, as he hauled himself off the carpeted floor and began moving his way back to the kitchen.
As Alfred hastily made way downstairs, he saw a glimpse of Matthew, cleaning up some dishes.
“Hey Al…”
Matt’s voice uncertain and body language displaying discomfort as Alfred walked into the room.
Alfred leered at him before taking another step closer to the refrigerator.
“Wait!”
Matthew placed the dishes down and ran a hand through his wavy hair as he caught Al’s attention.
“Don’t you think you had a lot to eat for dinner, maybe you should just sleep off cravings and you’ll feel better…”
Alfred would have liked to think that he couldn’t believe his own brother was saying that to him, but he could tell everyone around him was also thinking he should eat less.
Face flush and stomach dropping, he muttered,
“I was just going to get some water, thanks.”
Matthew’s awkward smile faltered at this response, nodding in acknowledgment.
“Good idea… sorry about that-“
Matthew was cut off by his brother’s abrupt departure from the kitchen as he had a firm grip on a water bottle.
The second Al turned around and made way upstairs, tears began welling from his eyes.
I can’t fucking believe this!
Alfred’s thoughts all rushed back as he entered the bathroom and started chugging the water in his hand.
Shit, this is way more uncomfortable than I thought it would be…
He had never made himself purge before, but the uncomfortable amount of liquid in his stomach made it all the more motivating.
Alfred rests his glasses on the countertop as he sinks to the floor in front of the porcelain toilet.
It’s a little frightening at first, the concept now seeming horrible as he actually sits here with intention to vomit. But the urge to feel like he’s in control is more powerful than any health consequence.
He sticks his middle and ring finger into his mouth until he feels the uvula dangling around.
All thoughts leave his mind as he maneuvers his fingers around to gag himself.
After coughing up some saliva, it finally comes.
The taste of vomit is significantly worse than how it tasted eating the food. But he didn’t care at all.
He only removes his hand from his mouth briefly when the vomit comes out.
As he continued to plunge his fingers in his throat, he feels his stomach start to churn.
A violent gush of vomit comes out. It looked like a disgusting swirl of everything he had to eat that day. But at the time it wasn’t so gross, it was actually more rewarding.
Alfred begins to cry some more, although he couldn’t tell if it was born from emotions or from the constant gagging.
Al did not want to leave until he could taste bile and blood. He would not stop until he felt empty enough.
And eventually it came to a point where all that came out his mouth was blood and the sour taste of his stomach acid.
He felt proud of himself. It seems like such a strange thing to be satisfied with but nothing can give more gratification than bringing his disordered thoughts to meet reality.
The aftermath was probably the weirdest part to him. The dissociation faded as he no longer had his fingers down his throat, and the smell became more apparent.
Alfred washed his hands before rinsing his mouth clean. He flushed the vomit down and moved over to crack a window. He didn’t want there to be any sign that this had happened, but if anyone found out about this, then it would just feel validating to him. Alfred was only going to get worse with time.