Manorexic
By: Holly Rose E.
Summary: If I wasn't thin enough, no one could ever love me. At least, that's what I told myself, until I got landed here. Taito.
Rating: T right now, but could go up, depending.
Warnings: Language, self-destructive habits, mashochism...

Chapter One: 4st7lbs.
I want to walk in the snow
And not soil its purity
-Manic Street Preachers

'I think I threw up on him'.

His brow furrowed as he vainly tried to place when it had happened; but, it's not as if it truly mattered, he was never going to see the boy again. It was disheartening to think that the final straw for his parents would be him throwing up – by accident, mind you – on some random guy he didn't even know.

Well, he sort of knew him. Didn't know his name or where he lived or what he liked to do and who he liked to do, but knew him by face. The boy went to his school, sat a few rows down in grammar class. Not that it matters.

He had thrown up on him, and now he was being wheeled down a long corroding hallway at one of the oldest buildings he'd ever laid eyes on. He was in nothing but a white gown with no back so that everyone could see his huge ass hanging out if he were to stand up. The nurse hadn't shut up yet. She had bright neon pink hair and even brighter purple eyes and kept yammering away in her very much soprano voice.

"This is where you'll be eating when you get enough points. As in, when you do ever eat," she giggled trilly, and a nearby bird cried out in dismay, "But, then, over there you have the pool and the exercise equipment, but I doubt you'll ever get there. And the shower stalls are on the other side of those rooms, but it may be awhile before you get any privacy. Many anorexics try anything to stay skeleton-y the first few weeks or so, even months. But, you'll like food again within no time just as soon as you give our wonderful 'nana pudding a try!" She twittered again.

'Definitely threw up on him, I think I can remember his reaction', but that didn't really help him, because it was more of a remainder than a memory. He lifted a slight hand to his face, lightly touching the bruise that crowned his left eye. 'Maybe... maybe he thought I needed it, to be...'

"Oh, so pretty!" She clutched his shoulder and he bit his lip in a grimace, she was much too violent. "Do you see, do you see? This is what one of your new buddies made!"

To his slight right, was a large painted portrait of a strange blue animal, shielded with fiery red armor and claws protruding. He could nearly see the ripple and strain of muscle in the animal's hind legs. His eyes were alight, angrily... protectively. Behind him stood a shadowy figure that was cowering, weak hands gripping onto a thigh for support. He couldn't make out the latter person – if, perhaps, that's what it was – but his heart went out, as if he could see agonized eyes.

"Hmm... let's see now, I think... no..." She stopped pushing him suddenly, and he jerked slightly forward. He turned his head around to glare at her, but she paid no notice as she got out her papers. "Third floor," she frowned at the paper, "Well..." her eyes flicked back up to him, studying his ghostly form, "I suppose you are rather in need of third floor..."

His eyes widened, and tried to sneer at her to put her back in her place. How dare she suggest that he needed help. It was the people like her that hung around that made it so hard for him to find his perfection. To attain the immaculate beauty that he knew he could be; it was their muddled perceptions that restrained him. They refused, because they were scared of anyone being so pretty.

'Fear is weak.'

"What is it about the third floor?" He tried to snarl at her, but she just grinned at him largely.

"You have such a lovely voice!"

Typical, she was just like another fangirl. Her eyes lit up and he irrationally thought for a moment she was going to swoop down and kiss him. "Third floor is pretty extreme, but it could be worse. You could be in the west building, but you don't want to go there!"

He supposed the words were meant to be intimidating, but it was hard to be even the slightest worried with her sing-song voice and the trembling giggle at the back of her throat constantly wanting to spring out and say hello to the world.

'He was kind of cute though... bit of a shame'. He picked at the gown agitatedly, wishing he had his own clothes. He was freezing against the metallic bars of the chair, and his butt kept sticking to the leather seat. He shifted, grimacing at the telltale schiiick of his derriere un-sticking, as they entered an elevator shaft.

"This is where I'll be letting you go," she said, voice hovering closely around his neck, "After I show you you're room, I think you've got a good twenty or so minutes before your first one-on-one."

"Oh thank god, I don't think I could stand being alone for so long," he mocked her voice, making his chords quiver with his own sarcastic laugh.

Rolling his eyes at the fore-guessed tinkle of laughter, he put his face in his hands, "You're never alone when you're here, Yamato, everyone is your friend!"

The doors opened, and Yamato looked up at the sudden loud voices that were screeching at each other.

'Hell isn't a lonely, fiery place. Hell is where the people never shut up... or apparently bathe.'

Closing Author's Note: Whew. :wrings hands nervously: I haven't written any Digimon in about 3 years now... hope it's better than before. Please review, I love good criticism!