Staring at the mountain of food, everyday was a Christmas feast. Watching his father greedily scoop half the bowl of mashed pototoes onto his plate. It was disgusting.
"Dudley!" Turning to his mother amused by the concern in her eyes.
"What?"
"You sick baby? You aren't eatting?" Dudley found being placed in the center of the universe was great when he was young, now it was tiresome. He felt like a pig being fattened up. He was sick of the teasing and cruel remarks.
"I'm fine." He mutters while reaching for the salad. Knowing he would throw it up later.