Disclaimer: I own
nothing you recognize.
Rated M for mature. Content includes:
Anorexia/bulimia, homosexuality, sex/porn, overall themes of
addiction, language, rape, self-injury, references to other damaging
behaviors, references to the body using both technical and slang
terms, and just an overall dark story not suitable for young eyes.
takes a deep breath
Note: I know there are a lot of stories that
use this general theme, but I couldn't resist. It just made sense,
as that was how the story came to me. I'm not going to change it,
or make this any lighter. Don't like it, don't read it. Plain and
simple. Please comment, cause they make me want to get the next part
out.
So, without further ado,
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Three Lives, Three Problems, One Goal
Part One: Prologue and Introduction
I stood there in front of the toilet, my porcelain goddess. I knew what I had to do. I knew the consequences of my actions earlier. After a deep breath and a tall glass of water, I placed my finger down my throat, begging for it to happen on the first try. Thank goodness it did, because I hate that part. I felt everything coming back, the cookies, the ice cream, the pizza...all of it. Each retch provided a bit of comfort, I knew I wouldn't gain that pound I've worked so hard to lose. After I see the orange jello, my "marker food" as we call it, I knew it was gone. All of the grotesque, horrible, fattening food was gone. I stepped on the scale, 91 pounds on my 5'2" frame. Still not good enough. Still not thin enough. Reweigh, remeasure, try harder. Fasting tomorrow, refuse the binge. I'm a proud 82 now…but I'll make it to 70, you'll see. Wait and see.
My name is Ginny Weasley, and I have an Eating Disorder.
I stood in front of the sink, towel and blade in hand. I tried to look in my eyes. Tried to see myself in them. I couldn't… I didn't even recognize myself. So there I sat on the bathroom floor, placed the towel on my crossed knees and my arm upon that. I took the blade and drug it across my pale arm. Over and over I willed out my crimson tears, each swipe of the blade transformed the emotional pain into physical. I mindlessly cut, only sensing how deep I went. Slowly I came back from my Cutter's High, saw the strawberry gashes lacing my arm. 52…52 cuts in all. I washed the wounds, placed a antibacterial on them, and bandaged them up the best I could. Yesterday I counted my scars. 1013. I hope to add more soon.
My name is Draco Malfoy, and I Self-Injure.
I slipped into this tight little miniskirt, it was pleated and black and hit right below my vagina. I found my best corset, emerald green with silver accents. My breasts always looked the best in it. My boots were leather, thigh high with corset lacing in the back. I was looking good. I tucked a box worth the condoms in my purse and walked out the door. I drove to my first shoot, some little porn flick that I can never remember the name of. All I remember is a threesome I enjoyed immensely with a stacked blonde who oozed sexy and a very hot dark-haired guy who filled out his boxers well. I got paid good money for that, thousands. Then it was out to the Lounge, making my rounds to my usual guys. 25 loyal customers every night, plus their guests. I'd do anything for sex. Anything.
My name is Hermione Granger, and I am a Sex Addict, among other things.
Three people. Three problems. Three addictions. One goal to bring them closer than they ever thought.
