I do not own the characters of Teen Wolf. I only own this idea. Reviews are appreciated. I love to know what you think. The quotation comes from Harriet Brown's book: Brave Girl Eating.
It was after the meal that Derek's mind fully realized what had happened, and it didn't take too long for Ana and Mia to make an appearance in his mind. It never helps that they're always itching their way under his skin, whispering in his ears day and night. Why did you do that? What did we tell you?! Can't you ever do something right?! Look at you! Layer and layer of fat! One on top of the other! You didn't deserve to eat that! You didn't need it! You wanted it! It's already making you fatter! The wolf closed his eyes as he slid down the wall outside of the bathroom, one leg bent up and the other outstretched in front of himself. His arms were crossed over his chest as his nails dug down deeply into the skin; it was hard enough to draw blood. But once the skin was pricked it healed within the second, not giving him enough pain for a punishment. Sitting outside of the bathroom didn't even seem to be enough of a punishment for his mind, he was screaming on the inside but it seemed like the sound could never drown out their voices. Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP! The wolf hadn't realized that he had started to dig his claws deeper into his arms, blood trickling down in crimson red lines. "Der, no.", whispered Isaac as he knelt down and gently pulled the older teen's claws out of his own arms, watching as the tiny wounds healed instantly. Derek seemed to momentarily snap out of his trance as he locked eyes with the Beta, his green eyes seemed dazed and unsure. "I'm fine, Isaac. It doesn't even seem to hurt.", explained Derek as he slid his claws back in, his regular nails returning.
"No more.", coaxed Isaac as he slid his hands up and down the older wolf's arms. "It's a distraction. A punishment. It helps sometimes to silence everything in my head; I can finally have a bit of piece. No Ana and no Mia.", explained the Alpha as he rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, seeming to relax as the younger wolf kept running his hands up and down his arms. "Let's find you a different distraction, I'll go see what Allison might have in mind.", started Isaac as he rose from his position on the floor, only to be stopped when the older wolf grabbed hold of his arm gently. "I already have something in mind; I just have to dig it out of my closet. But you will have to sit still long enough for me to do it. If you move I'll get a detail wrong.", explained Derek as he rose from the floor and helped the Beta up with himself. "You can draw?!", exclaimed the smaller wolf as he followed the older wolf up the stairs and into his bedroom, the door hitting the wall with a muted thunk behind them. "I took a few art classes in High School, learned a little from my Mom, too. I rarely drew anything after the fire since Laura and I moved around too much to have any down time. Many of my sketch books either got lost or destroyed in all our moves.", explained the red eyed wolf as he opened his closet doors, hearing Isaac gasp behind him with wide eyes. Derek looked up and quickly realized his mistake, he opened the one closet door where he kept all of his 'Thinspiration' pictures hung up. He quickly shut that door and opened the other before bending down and rummaging through the bottom selves on the side.
Isaac reached over and opened the other door, the one that had the pictures taped to, his eyes widening a fraction as they went from picture to picture. "Where do you find pictures like this? You can see almost every bone in their body and these sayings aren't going to help.", asked the younger teen as he looked from the pictures to the older teen, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You can find pictures like that in certain magazines or websites. They're called 'Thinspirations'. They help keep you determined to lose weight and keep it off. They give you tips and tricks on how to do it, some work and some don't.", explained Derek as he pulled out a dusty box from under the shelves, taking the lid off to find the remaining art supplies that he managed to keep during all of the moves after the fire. "I really think that these need to come down, Der. They're not going to help now.", explained the Beta as he helped shut the closet doors since the older wolf had his hands full. "Someday. Someday I will be able to take them down and forget they were ever there.", explained Derek as he followed the wolf back down the stairs, setting the box on the floor by the couch. "What is that, Derek? Other than some dusty box.", asked Lydia as she sat down beside him on the couch, Isaac taking up the other side, sandwiching him between them. "Isaac was helping me figure out a distraction for after a meal, to keep my mind calm, and I remembered that I still had some art supplies from before and after the fire. It'll be good to get back into something like drawing, you can express so much through something as small as a pencil stroke.", explained the Alpha as he bent down and opened the box again, laying the lid down beside it. "Can I?", asked the strawberry blonde Banshee as she gestured towards the largest sketch book in the box.
"Go ahead, Lyd. If you like them, I'll add a portrait of you. Stiles, don't open that. You're not going to like what you read. That list is pretty long.", called out the red eyed wolf from the couch as he heard the teen open the tablet. "How the hell did you manage to hear that?", asked Stiles from the kitchen as he and Allison sat down at the table with the tablet between them. "The paper in the tablet crinkles a little bit when you open it, it's not too hard to hear.", explained Derek as he watched Lydia flip page after page in the sketch book. "Is this Laura?", the strawberry blonde girl asked him as she turned the tablet towards him for him to see the drawing. Derek looked from the kitchen back to the drawing, his eyes darkening a few seconds in what could be seen as sadness, but then they lit up in admiration. "That's Laura. I managed to sit her down before her date showed up for her Junior Prom, she had just finished getting ready when I sat her down and grabbed the sketch book. The only fault was that her date was 5 minutes late.", explained the wolf as he nodded at the girl beside him. "And I'm guessing he came face to face with an angry little brother?", teased Isaac as he looked over the older wolf's shoulder to look at the picture. "He came face to face with me, and my three older brothers, not to mention my Dad.", explained Derek with a low chuckle at the memory. "How do you manage to catch so much detail? You even got the little sunlight glitch in her eyes.", asked Lydia as she seemed to be mesmerized by the drawing. "I can teach you if you want me to, Lyd.", said the older wolf as he smiled at her, not having any seconds to react before she launched herself across the couch and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Whenever you have a chance we are drawing. But. Can I ask you something? Something related to the Eating Disorder?", asked Lydia once they had finished the hug, the scent of Derek clinging to her like a blanket. "You can ask anything you want to and I'll answer you if I can. If I can't think of an answer, I'll let you know.", explained Derek with an honest smile on his lips. "What's it like? If I were put in your shoes for a single day, what would it be like?", she asked him curiously. "Close your eyes. Imagine that you're in a bakery. Not just any bakery – the best bakery in Beacon Hills, its windows fogged, crowded with people who jostle for space in front of its long glass cases. The room is fragrant and you can't take your eyes off the rows of cinnamon rolls and croissants, iced petite fours, flaky napoleons and elephant ears. Every counter holds at least one basket of crusty baguettes, still warm from the oven. And you're hungry. In fact, you're starving. Hunger is a tornado whirling in your chest. A bottomless vortex at your core. Hunger is a tiger sharpening its claws on your tender insides. You stand in front of the glass cases, trying to swallow, but your throat is dry and your stomach clenches and contracts. You want more than anything to lick the side of an éclair, swirl the custard and chocolate against your tongue. You dream about biting off the end of a cruller, feeling the give of the spongy dough, the brief molecular friction of the glaze against your teeth, flooding your mouth with sweetness. The woman beside you reaches into a white paper bag, pulls out a hunk of sourdough roll. You see the little puff of steam that curls from its soft center, breathe in its warm yeasty smell. She pops it into her mouth and chews and you chew along with her. You can almost taste the bread that she's chewing. Almost. But you can't, not really, because how long has it been since you've tasted bread? A month? A year? And though your stomach grinds against your backbone and your cheeks are hollow, though the tiger flays your belly, you can't eat. You want to, you have to, but your fear is greater than your hunger. Because when you do – when you choke down a spoonful of plain yogurt, five pretzel sticks, a grape, that's when the voice in your head starts up, a whisper, a cajoling sigh: You don't need to eat, you're strong, so strong. That's right. Good boy. Soon the whisper is a hiss filling the inside of your head: you're weak, unworthy. You are disgusting. You don't deserve to live. You, you, you. The voice is a drumbeat, a howl, a knife sunk in your gut, twisting. It knows what you're thinking. It knows everything you do. The more you try to block it out, the louder it becomes, until it's screaming in your ear: You're fat. You're a pig. You make everyone sick. No one loves you and no one ever will. You don't deserve to be loved. You've sinned and now you must be punished. So you don't eat, though food is all you think about. Though all day long, wherever you are, - doing homework, sitting with friends, trying to sleep, - part of you is standing in the bakery, mesmerized with hunger and with fear, the voice growing and rumbling. You have to stand there, your insides in shreds, empty of everything but your own longing. There will be no bread for you, no warm buttery pastries. There's only the pitiless voice inside your head, high-pitched, insistent, insidious. There's only you, more alone than you've ever been. You, growing smaller and frailer. You, with nowhere else to go. The voice is a part of you now, your friend and your tormentor. You can't fight it and you don't want to. You're not so strong after all. You can't take it and you can't get away. You don't deserve to live. You want to die.", explained Derek as he kept his eyes locked on Lydia's.