It started out as a punishment for messing up-failing a homework assignment or a test, getting in a fight with my brothers, or forgetting to do something my mother has asked me to do. It was simple at first, just a few things to be punish myself for, things that made sense. Then it got ridiculous. I was just searching for a reason. It happened when I misplaced something or when I tripped going up the stairs or even when I saw someone else mess up. I would purposely make mistakes so I could have a reason to punish myself. I thought I would be able to stop, but I was stupid. Oh so stupid, you can't control the eating disorder. The eating disorder controls you. Stupid bitch.

But I'm so hungry, it's not fair. It's not fair because no one understands. It's just brushed off as "oh, you're just looking for attention" but I'm not, I'm drowning and I don't know what I look like anymore. I'm fat and disgusting and I don't know how he loves me. He must be ashamed to be seen with me. I'm difficult to be with, I know. There are days when I think I can eat a normal meal, but I'm wrong. Ten minutes later I'm on the bathroom floor crying, the smell of vomit on my breath. Then there's the cutting, so much blood flowing from my thighs. He's the only that knows of course, because he bandages them when the bleeding won't stop and I can't bring myself to care enough to do it myself. I'm slowly killing myself and he's helplessly, hopelessly watching me because no matter what he does, he can't save me. And I hate myself so much for that. I want to get better for him, but I can't do it. I've tried and I can't because deep down, I think I don't want to. I want to be pretty enough for him, I want him to be proud of me.

The cold bathroom tile is more comforting than my empty bed. What little food I forced down from dinner was tearing at my stomach. I walked to the toilet and kneeled over the bowl and just as I was about to stick my fingers down my throat, there was a loud banging on the door. My heart was pounding.

"H-hello?" my voice was shaking.

"Baby, please please please open the door." Harry's voice was quiet and loving and I crawled to the door and leaned against it. "Please, baby. You don't have to do this. Please unlock the door, baby. We can talk about this. Remember? Like we said? Please, baby." He sounded so sad. I reached up and unlocked the door and he opened it very slowly. I was curled up in the corner and wearing a tank top and my underwear with blood still running down my legs. Harry closed the door behind him and picked up and put me in his lap. He stroked my hair. "Oh, Ginny..." he looked so heartbroken. "Are you okay, love?" I looked at him for a couple minutes.

"No," I whispered. "I'm not." Harry nodded.

"I know, baby." He put me down on the floor and walked over to the sink for a washcloth and some gauze take care of my cuts. He ran cold water over the white washcloth and walked over and kneeled before me. "Alright, sweetheart. Stretch out your legs. I'll take care of you."

And he did. He always did.

Harry ran the cold washcloth over my legs and as it touched the deeper cuts, I cringed away. The white cloth was stained red by the time he was done. "I'm sorry I wasn't there after dinner." he whispered. I shook my head.

"Don't. I would've pushed you away anyway." I watched him as he started wrapping my legs.

"Baby, your legs have gotten so small.." he pulled me up and gently lifted my shirt up. He gasped and I've seen him heartbroken and on the verge of tears before, but I don't think I've ever seen him tears actually spring to his eyes. He dropped my shirt and pulled me into his arms a little more harshly than usual and hugged me much more tighter than he's ever hugged me before. I let him because I could feel his tears on the sleeve of my shirt. I hugged him back as tightly as I could, which I knew wasn't tight at all.

"Ginny.." He said quietly and cupped my face in his hands. "You're beautiful, love, you don't need to be doing this to yourself. Okay? I know we've talked about this again and again, but you're literally skin and bones. Your beautiful hair is falling out. Your nails are blue. I found the spit up bags of food hidden all over your room, love. Your teeth are a wreck. You're slowly killing yourself and I can't just sit here and watch. Baby, please let me help you."

I was crying by the time he finished, because he knew that was only the start of what I was doing to myself. I was constantly passing out because of lack of food, I honestly don't remember the last time I got my period. But I don't have to worry about being pregnant because I'm too weak to have sex. I'm too scared to see a Healer because I know that what they'll tell me won't be good and that they'll make me eat. I don't want impatient.

"I don't want to go to the doctor." I whispered.

"I know, baby." He looked sad. "But you might have to."

"Please don't make me.." I could feel the tears filling my eyes I tried to stop them, but I could't and Harry looked more and more broken and it was my fault because all I was doing was getting worse.

"I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, love. I just need you to let me help you, okay? And if we have to go to the doctor, we'll talk about it then, okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you, Ginny." Harry whispered in my ear. "I love you so much, and I just want to see you healthy and happy."

"I know, Harry." I mumbled. "I love you, too."