It is so hard. It is harder than any thing else I have ever done. But when I lose those last three pounds, the pain was worth the prize.

-Anorexic quote

In case there is a reader out there that feels that this story hits a little too close to home, this is for you.

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Rosalie could not remember a time when she was okay with eating, okay with packing ounces away slowly but surely. Okay with eating candy and ice cream, and in fact, loving it. She wasn't sure if they ever existed.

Thoughts of a little girl without a childhood pestered Rosalie as she sat at her computer, a bright and colorful web-page open on her screen. The kind of colors that invoked happiness and were the center of joyful memories. No one would guess by looking at the back drop that this had been the resting ground for so many young peoples' lives. For, it you looked at the bottom of the screen was a dark haired beauty who had her mouth stitched up with ugly black wiring, a look of comfort in her eyes, barely laced with strands of panic. A less dramatic version of what had happened to every one of the dozens of girls that were currently on-line, a pro-Ana Mia chat room.

Rosalie had popped open a link to this site as calmly and routinely as some one who was shifting through cluttered eBay auctions and bloated my-space messages and friend requests. She pressed each letter on her keyboard as if she was digging out a shovelful of dirt for her own grave: Grimly, robotic. In a way, she was doing just that, pushing herself deeper and deeper into a hole she would soon be unable to claw herself out of, no matter how hard she tried. The thought barely nagged at her; the thought that she would die. Every good Ana knew there was a chance they would be killed, and they knew that if they died, it was for the best. Ana would take them to a place where they would be thin, a place where they would be happy. A reward for doing as she wanted when they were alive, for taking her where she wanted to be taken, and not listening to the loud grumbles of hunger.

Unless you did not allow Ana the pleasure of taking you to her Wonderland, and you got ahead of yourself, wanting so badly to get there. Suicide was not tolerated, the selfish, impatient ones who did would never be admitted to the fantastical land of Ana in the afterlife: Ana did not want to die, and Ana was inside you. You kill yourself, you kill Ana, you kill any chance you have at a good after life, if there was any. Ana would hand your soul off to some one else if you dared that rebellion, that form of ungratefulness. Ana did you a favor by wasting her time on you: So you had better damn well thank her for it, instead of killing yourself like some pathetic little baby.

Rosalie would not be a baby, she would be strong. She would make her Ana proud.

No! I actually thought about recovery today! I can't do that! Why am I thinking so crazy?????? A girl had typed, frantic in her own self fear.

Rosalie shook her head in distaste for this new arrival to the misleading chat room, clearly she was only 'attempting' Ana, trying to fool herself into thinking Ana had blessed her by coming into her body. A true Ana like Rosalie would never thing that, not even for the slightest second of madness. This poor girl was not only making all Ana girls look bad; but she didn't know what kind of Hell she was getting herself into.

Then go to recovery and stop being a whiny twit. Rosalie pounded out, her own anger being taken out on the keyboard. Anger at this girl, anger at herself, or anger at Ana? No, not Ana. Never Ana. Ana didn't do any thing wrong, she was Rosalie's angel. Her crying shoulder, her comforter at night, the love of her life. Rosalie could never get mad at the one she loved most, what kind of love was that?

God, you a-hole. I thought of all places, people here would understand what the hell I'm going through! The girl responded, her annoyance seeming to spring out in her words.

No, people here do not understand, sweetheart. We are actual Ana's, not some spoiled little 12 year old who thinks she can get a little extra attention if she doesn't eat for a few days, and then caves next time she sees a candy bar. You don't know what hell is like. Rosalie answered her, then logged off from the website, turning her monitor and screen off in the same second.

Pulling herself onto the couch on the opposite wall from the computer, Rosalie wrapped her arms around her knees, curling herself into a tight and loving ball. She was trying to bring herself some sort of comfort, like a person lost at sea. Her body was the raging maelstrom, and her mind was the harsh and unforgiving winds that powered it.

Rosalie did not want to hurt herself, and yet, the yearning pulled and yanked at her violently. Self-harm was what had gotten her this far, it being the last thing she would resort to if she felt weak and needy. Never more harm than was needed, never too little for her to escape without a scar to prove it. That was just what she wanted; a scar to remind her every day that she was a weakling that deserved to feel the pain of the razor blade.

Flashback

Rosalie was driving herself insane. Her body was tugging toward the evil, vile food, while her mind screamed for her not to, that calories were her enemy. There was no way she could end up happy tonight, and Rosalie had the horrible feeling that she was ending up locked in the bathroom tonight, the shower water drumming out the sounds of her coughs and gasps; steam wrapping around her like a blanket. Never warm enough, always too cold.

It was all she could do to not take off running and shove any thing even slightly edible into her mouth like a greedy pig, or as her body thought of it; The end of a famine.

The seconds of this late winter night were dragging on for her, each one making a deeper impact on her knotted up shoulders, the creation stress had made on her that usually was only seen on a CEO who was also a mother of four. Rosalie had no idea what to do, it had been two days since she last eaten, and she knew that she had to eat some time; yet that thought nearly drove her to tears, for if she started eating, she would be unable to stop.

That was when she found her own personal escape.

She started off with the razor she used to shave her legs, running it under smoldering water first, so the tips would be sharp as could be, and retaining a bit of that drastic warmth. That wonderful, coveted warmth that never seemed to visit her.

As good a place as any, she thought, would be her stomach. Hurt the part of her body that hurt so much , trying to find some thing on her starved body to feed off of when it was so weak already. Maybe it would soon find a small, forgotten patch of body fat to feast upon for a few seconds, before it greedily used it up too fast. For now, Rosalie slid the blade across her flesh, watching as a bright red line fallowed closely behind it. The burn told her to stop, the pain told her to go.

Rose never thought that pain could feel so good! So good, that she threw her head back as she bled and suffered, feeling as if she was having all the stress rubbed out of her body. A breathe she did not know she was holding was let out slowly, as she savored the taste of the air she was lucky to still be able to draw into her famished lungs. This was so much better than she imagined.

End flashback

Rosalie did not know where the tears came from, but they budded in her eyes and fell onto her cheeks as she lost herself in the past.

She was out of control.