Hunger 13/?
Orlando's POV
***
Pain, unbelievable pain. A voice screaming at him, telling him nasty
things. Cruel laughter. Wetness on his cheeks, sobs rocking his body,
his throat sore.
"I don't know why I spend time with you, Orlando. You just don't
listen to me."
Voice cracking. " It was only an apple."
A blow to his head. "It was your third today."
"But it was all I had today…"
"Shut the fuck up, you're disgusting. Can't you see I'm trying to
help you? Do you want to stay that fat? You have NO discipline so I
must have it for you. Look what you made me do. I hit you and it is
your fault. It's over. Get out of my sight. I'm ashamed to be seen
with you."
Sad brown eyes staring out of a mirror, a voice in his head telling
him `He's right.'.
***
Orlando sat up in bed, drenched in sweat. He had left that day, gone
to his mother and she had never let him go back. A part of him had
been thankful, the other had want to crawl back. Not that Alex hadn't
tried to get him back but he stood no chance against his mother and
Sam. Finally he had told Orlando that he was happy to never see him
again, that he had never cared for him and that Orlando would always
be ordinary. It had hurt, deeply.
He sighed and got up. Today was his first free day in month. He
looked at this clock, two hours until he had to be ready. The whole
fellowship had decided they would spend the day together at the
beach. Nothing he had said had helped, he was forced to join them.
That was bad, his own body disgusted him and now everybody would be
able to see it. But he would ignore all the pitiful looks he would
surely get and act like he was happy. He was already quite good at
that, fooling the others and hiding himself away.
Only with Viggo it was difficult. Sometimes the man seemed to be able
to look right through him. It was scary. He couldn't trust Viggo, he
could only trust himself because he was in control. All the others
just felt sorry for him and they would try to take the control from
him. Like Sam and his mother. `You're too thin!' `God Orlando, you
look so pale.' `Darling, maybe you should talk to somebody.' Lies,
only lies. And why should he talk to anybody? He already knew what he
was; a fat, ugly thing. He didn't need anyone to tell him that or
feed him more lies. But soon everything would be better. He was in
control.
He yawned, made some coffee and went outside with the steaming cup in
on hand and a bag with everything he needed for the day in the other.
He dropped onto his steps and waited for the others to get up.