Authour's Note: Could be set pretty much whenever between pre season 1-season 3. I do hope you enjoy it, and I'd be a very happy writer if you left a short comment after reading.
Trigger Warning: Touches at the subject of eating disorders. For your own sake, please do not read if you know you're easily triggered.
Disclaimer: I do not own House MD or any of its brilliant characters.
The cup of plain, black coffee warmed her slightly shaking hands as she stared forward into the great cloud of nothingness; eyes unfocused, brain unable to comprehend what she was actually seeing. It was nice. She liked it.
The room was silent; the only noise provided by Chase's occasional scribbling in the newspaper's crossword section, and the almost deafening clinking of her steaming cup making impact with the table beneath it. There was no case; no case and no House. She could not help the hint of a smile playing at her dry, pale lips; today was a good day. No House tormenting her and her every move. No need for actual thought or concentration. No food. Today she was happy with herself; today was a good day.
With both hands curled around the cup, fingers holding on to the porcelain for dear life, she slowly moved her arms upwards, taking a large sip of the dark, bitter liquid. She felt a sense of euphoria as the coffee made contact with her mouth; as it made its way down, she could feel her entire body getting warmer, reheating, providing her with some much needed energy. If it were not for the cups upon cups of coffee she had been consuming recently, she highly doubted she would even be awake still. She praised whoever discovered the wonderfully incredible lifesaver; they truly were absolutely brilliant.
Somewhere at the back of her mind, Cameron registered movement. Chase, she realized; he was out of his chair, now standing. He was standing right in front of her; disrupting her cloud of nothingness. She could see his lips moving; he was saying something, something about lunch. Did she want lunch? No. No, she did not want lunch; she was not hungry. A sigh of relief left her lungs as she watched the colleague's back exiting the room, the door gently closing behind him, yet again leaving her to her own mind. Her mind and her coffee. God, how she loved coffee.
….
As the car door slammed shut behind her, all she could think about was sleep; trying desperately to ignore the voice at the back of her mind. The voice screaming for food. She did not want food; did not need food. No. She needed sleep.
The ominous stairs ahead of her looked more uninviting than ever, and making her way up to her apartment was definitely a struggle; the steps growing seemingly higher the further she got. Actually getting her key into the keyhole was posed an even greater issue. Hands fumbling, arms quivering. She was about to give up, fully convinced her keys were conspiring against her, when the heavy door finally gave in, letting her enter the darkness that was her home. Turning the lights on, her eyes immediately made their way towards the kitchen. Maybe she should eat something. Yes, she did not have to eat a lot, just enough to calm her growling stomach down. Having reached the kitchen, she stopped suddenly. No. No she should not eat anything; could not eat anything. Why the hell was she even considering something so incredibly stupid? She had been doing so well for so long, and she was certainly not about to screw it all up.
Despite her very best efforts to resist, her body quickly made its way over to the cabinet above the sink, fingers desperately opening the pack of cookies she had gotten hold of. That is when she lost all control over her own being, over her actions; body moving on autopilot, no longer able to stop. She lost the ability to even think at all, unable to register what was going on. All she could do was eat; stuffing her mouth with anything within reach. Cookies, ice cream, cereal, toast, chocolate.
She took in her surroundings in horror, the once neat kitchen was a mess; wrappers and empty cartons scattered all around. What had she done? What the hell had she done? Fuck. She could feel the shame making its way up towards the surface; the immense disgust taking over every fiber of her being. She was a failure. All this she had done to herself. Within moments, she was hunched over the toilet, the floor cold underneath her feet; hair tied back, fingers in her throat. She was disgusting. Stupid, fat, gross and absolutely disgusting. How had she ended up back here; losing control? She did not want to do this. She really did not want to do this, but she knew she had to. She had to rid herself of the food, the disgusting food; the calories. She could not keep it in, could not walk around looking like this; the food had to go.
She hated food, so why on earth had she eaten? Why had she stuffed her disgusting face when she so obviously did not want to?
That is right; she was a complete and utter failure, that is why. Of course. No one had made her do this, no one had forced her to eat; all this she had done to herself. This was all on her. She could do absolutely nothing right; whatever she ever did, attempted to do, she failed. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. Flushing the toilet, she let her increasingly heavy back hit the door behind her, slowly sliding down into a sitting position. Hugging her shaking legs tightly to her pounding chest, she closed her eyes and let her forehead fall softly onto her protruding knees. She had to stop this; stop letting everybody down, stop being a failure. She would do better. She would prove to everyone that she could be good; be perfect. She wpud not eat. No. She would be perfect.
A/N: Again, I hope it was worth your time. Constructive criticism helps me improve and reviews are always nice *hint hint*.