The Starving Art
Chapter Three
"Sammy, you can take a break now!" John called out from where he was sitting in the bleachers of the jogging track. On the weekends when the track team was done training, John would take the boys out to run. After Dean moved out, he just went jogging around the neighborhood in his free time, but Sam continued to jog when his father would take him out.
"No thanks, dad!" Sam called out breathlessly as he passed the bleachers on his lap. "I need the exercise!"
"Sammy, you've been running with only two water breaks in the past hour," John said. "If you don't water up, you're gonna pass out, and I don't wanna drag big ass to the hospital!"
Now, John had meant the phrase 'big ass' as Sam being tall. Though, the youngest Winchester took it as him being overweight. Ruby's thoughts had reached him and he only felt like running for longer. Running faster. Eating less.
"Fine, I'll get some water," Sam said as he turned his run around and made his way to the bleachers. John tossed him his water bottle and the teenager took a large gulp of the liquid his body was craving for.
"I knew you were thirsty." John smirked before turning back to his newspaper. The father liked to catch up on the news while his boy trained, or look into cars that could be turned into scrap metal. Sam didn't know which he was doing at the moment.
Sam threw the water bottle back to his father and got started on running again.
"Time for a weigh-in," Sam whispered to himself just before stepping on the scale. "Happy thoughts."
The number landed on 135. Sam smiled to himself, practically jumping to the computer to send Ruby an IM.
SaMiAm: 135! Piece of cake.
RedGem: Fake cake, I hope ;)
SaMiAm: Of course.
RedGem: Now get back to working on your real goal; 115.
Sam logged off.
He did the only thing he could. He ran. Sam's vision was going black and there was a ringing in his head, but he kept on running until he heard, "Sam!" He stopped. When vision returned, he could clearly see Dean standing on the bleachers by the jogging track.
"Yeah?" Sam called back.
"What are you running for?" It was only then that Sam realized it was raining. The dampness on his clothing wasn't sweat. It was rainwater.
"Exercise," Sam answered. He jogged to Dean, beginning to feel light headed again.
"You okay, man?" Dean asked. He placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Jeez, you're freezing. Let's go, the impala's in the parking lot."
The impala had been the family car since before Sam and Dean were even ideas. Their dad said he bought it against their mother's will when they were still dating. He had stories of how Dean was born in it and Sam was conceived in it – "Ew, dad," "You asked," – and many others after their mother died. When Dean turned eighteen, the car was given to him and John bought himself a truck. John often mentioned giving the truck to Sam when he turned eighteen and buying himself a newer car. Dean drove Sam home and nearly pushed him into the shower.
"You're probably gonna catch a damn cold," Dean said from inside the bathroom. Sam waited for his brother to walk out of the bathroom before stripping to nothing and standing on the scale.
125. After all his hard work of restricting from foods and keeping himself working out all the time, he had finally gotten down to a weight he could smile at. But he still wasn't done with his work yet.
Sam gazed at his naked body in the mirror. He looked paler – could see the dark circles around his eyes – and his cheeks looked sunken in. He was thinner. He could see it. All he felt was disgust, though.
He didn't know why he felt it, but he did. Sam brought his fingernails to his face and could see they were a pale blue, even against his pale and clammy skin.
"I don't hear the shower running!" Dean called. Of course he was still there, waiting to make sure his brother was safe and sound – and most importantly, not sick.
"Then stop listening!" Sam called back. He turned the shower on so Dean wouldn't hear and continued to look in the mirror. His hair was now drying in that way that hair does when the air naturally dries it, and he looked through cabinets for something. For anything that could make him feel better about his body.
Sam was surprised when he found a pocketknife in the drawer that had belonged to Dean for so long. Their bathroom was shared, and there were two drawers – one for each boy. Dean had his, Sam had his. He didn't ask many questions because it was something he could use.
Without much thought, the youngest Winchester took the pocketknife, flicking out the blade and carefully dragging the – surprisingly – sharpened blade down his wrist. The euphoria that went through him was unrealistic.
After cleaning the blood, Sam jumped in the shower. He needed to shower anyway, and this way, he could continue the pleasant feeling the wound on his wrist was giving him by running it under the cold stream of water. Ruby had said that showering in cold water burned calories by your body trying to warm itself.
Sam left the shower, walking into his room and beginning to get dressed.
"Hey, Sam…" Dean cut his sentence short when he walked in while Sam was continuing to dress into a clean outfit. Sam quickly pulled down his shirt and backed away when Dean reached a hand out to him.
"Don't touch me," Sam said quickly.
"Sammy…" Dean trailed off. "You're so thin…"
"I'm fine," Sam told him. "Can you please leave my room?" Dean couldn't move. He was in shock over seeing his brother's spine. "Dean!"
"What?"
"Leave," Sam ordered. "Go to work, go home, stay here, I don't care, just get out of my room."
"Sure…" Dean sighed, walking out of the room.
