So, I wrote this based off of a roleplay character I use named Ristee. I just loved how it came out and wanted to share it with you guys, so I switched out my character's name with Logan's. :)

Also, I've been into "Little Mix" lately and their song "DNA" helped to inspire this as well.

Enjoy!

Logan snuggled under the oversized hoodie he was wearing and pulled the sleeves down so they'd cover his hands. It was spring, but Minnesota always seemed to have a slight chill in the air before the sun fully rose. Part of him still wanted to be warm, under his blankets, and in bed...but more of him wanted to do this so badly, sending the man out of the house at 5AM. He peered at the empty roads and sidewalks, even all the shops were completely abandoned. Occasionally, a car would whip by, making Logan fear that it'd cause a puddle to splash up and make him even colder than he already was; maybe wearing shorts wasn't such a great idea after all.

His eyes lit up, though, when a sign appeared from behind a tall building that had hid it when he was farther down the street. The banner put a bitter-sweet smile on his face. He hadn't been to Skyline Dance Academy in four years, and now, rather than being a dance instructor, he was stuck as a Maths teacher around the block. A bit of anger flickered in his heart when he remembered how he got fired. The words "Logie, you just aren't healthy enough to teach these kids...you aren't setting a good example at all, either" blared in his mind, but he honestly shouldn't have been mad, he did bring the issue on himself, after all.

Digging around in his pockets, Logan managed to pull out the spare key to the studio that he still owned. The click of the lock made a sudden desire to dance again form in his gut, so he waltzed in and tossed his backpack to the side of the area. It created an echo when it hit the floor; damn, that place was empty. All that sat at the back of the room was a radio, Logan's old radio...this must've been his old room. He even still saw his mix-tape and when he spotted that it made him grin.

"Perfect." He thought to himself, turning to now face the mirror. He hadn't truly looked at himself all together in a long time now. The was no way he could do his signature routine with a baggy sweatshirt on, though, so with bony fingers, he pulled the fabric over his head and smoothed his hair back to its normal position afterwards. He took one good glance at himself before squinting his eyes shut. He didn't want to look anymore...it hurt. The refection revealed what a mess he had become within the course of 4 years.

There stood a 19-year-old man who was at least 5'6 but had to weight 100lbs...even that was a far stretch. Maybe more like 90...80, could've he gotten to 70...? Logan hadn't worn anything that exposed his body like the tank top he had on at that moment in so long; he nearly forgot how bad things were. He ran his hands up and down his arms-he was so close to having nothing but bone left and the thoughts of withering away sent chills down his spine.

He looked at the mirror again, but this time he say the old Logan. The one who weighed 130lbs. The one who was a normal size, but just couldn't get over his jealousy of the students he taught. They were all so...thin and he wasn't, or at least he didn't think he was. He could've sworn that sometimes, when he looked at himself back then, he saw a completely different person than who he really was. The monsters inside his mind just couldn't allow his eyes to see the real Logan, instead they distorted the image and dragged him head first into bulimia with no regrets whatsoever. Maybe he should've accepted help when people offered it; now he was nothing but alone and looked like death warmed over him.

"Logie, let us help you...we know there's something wrong!" They say.

"Logie, you have a problem!" They say.

"Logie, you need help!" They say.

But there wasn't anything wrong with binging or purging. It wasn't a problem if he kept it balanced; eating himself silly was nothing if he just threw it all up afterwards, right? In fact, it was like it never happened. He didn't need help either...he truly believed that what he did was normal. He did want to be skinny, and he did get that, after all, but there was a difference between thin and sick. Logan was sick...very, very sick. The man couldn't stand it anymore, he was tired of wallowing in self-pity, so he walked over to the stereo and popped the CD into the slot, switching over to track 4...his special track.

The song blasted and banged against the four, mirror-clad walls that surrounded Logan. He let the sound fill his body and the routine replayed in his mind instantly. He threw his hands into the air and began. He watched himself in the glass as he crossed his feet over each other and pulled his body backwards to touch the ground; he was ill, but still flexible nonetheless. The words hit him more than anything and during the chorus he whispered the lyrics under his breath.

"And my heart won't beat again, if I can't feel him in my veins, no need to question, I already know..." Logan murmured, dancing along to the pitch and mood to the song.

Every few seconds he'd fall in and out of hallucinations; one moment he saw overweight-Logan, and the next, there stood underweight-Logan. He hated both immensely in that moment. Both were ugly, terrible, little minded people. Shallow and narcissistic. He felt disgusted just thinking about them; he wanted to get rid of them, but they lingered and laughed, mocking him. He wanted so badly to drop to his knees and rip his hair out of frustration, he didn't though, and replaced those feelings by drowning out the world around him and dancing. Nothing but dance.

"It's in his DNA...D-D-D-DNA! It's in his DNA, and he just takes my breath away...b-b-b-breath away! I feel it every day..." He chanted as the words dug through his skull and into his brain. The periwinkle tank top he wore fluttered as he spun around and pulled his body through the routine. He panted, but ignored it...he couldn't stop, not now.

"...and that's what makes a man, not hard to understand. Perfect in every way, I see it in his face. Nothing more to say. It's in his D-D-D-DNA!" His voice grew louder, you could now hear it over the singers of the song. Anger dripped like venom from his mouth as his lips smacked together and sang the chorus.

By the time the last bridge had ended to the song, Logan was out of breath, but he sucked it up, inching closer to the mirror and continuing to sing along with the track, "It's all about his kiss, contaminates my lips. Our energy connects, it's simple genetics. I'm the X to his Y, it's the colour of his eyes. He can do no wrong! No, he don't need to try! Made from the best, he passes all the tests. Got my heart beating fast...it's cardiac arrest!"

Logan was now face to face with his reflection, screaming the lyrics to himself so loudly that it blistered the back of his throat, "He's from a different strain, that science can't explain! I guess that's how he's made...in his d-d-d-DNA!"

The man pounded on the glass with his fist, and continued on with the dance. He wasn't stopping, but he couldn't let his image get away with the hell it had put him through for the past 4 years either. He was shocked that the mirror didn't break or shatter when he hit them, even if it did, he was still doing it anyways. He dragged his nails against the glass, scratching and tinting them, it hurt so bad, but felt amazing at the same time. He held all the power in that moment. Mr. Reflection wasn't controlling his actions any longer...it was all Logan.

"It's in MY DNA...D-D-D-DNA! It's in MY DNA, and I just takes MY breath away...b-b-b-breath away! I feel it every day!" Confidence trickled down from his lips as he shouted his own words to the song.

"...and that's what makes a man, not hard to understand!" He wouldn't allow himself to turn away from his image in the mirror.

"I'M perfect in every way!" He loved himself.

"I see it in MY face!" He deserved so much better.

"Nothing more to say!" He was going to stop, he was going to pull his life back together.

Suddenly, the music faded out and with that, Logan fell to the ground. He closed his eyes and panted heavily, his mind racing with thoughts. He ignored the fact that he was playing the song so loudly that it blew out the speakers; he had more important things to deal with. A stereo could be replaced easily, but confidence in Logan was dangerously rare.

"It's in my D-D-D-DNA..." He whispered, finishing the song himself. The emptiness of the room nearly swallowed him up and even the meek voice he was using at the moment sounded like a roar; it was so very quiet in there. He was so...lonely.

Logan sat up to face the glass again and fixate on his sickly form, "Oh, gosh. What have I done...?"

He sighed, knowing that it'd take years to get back to a normal weight, let alone break his awful habits. He needed to fix things, though, he couldn't go on with life like this; now if only he just noticed sooner, then he wouldn't be so alone.

I'm really proud of this piece, so I hope you liked it as much as I did. :)

xoxo

~EMiLiE