Alfred washed out his mouth, spitting brown water back into the bathroom sink. He glanced back at the toilet but decided against going back until after dinner.
He wiped his mouth and threw out the paper towel, missing the trash can. He sighed, picking it up again. As he bent over his sweat shirt hung as if it were three sizes too big but it wasn't. As he threw out the paper towel he grimly thought about the red sweatshirt hanging on his shoulders loosely. It had once fit him, but that was when he was fat. I'm still fat, he thought, having a strong urge to vomit.
"Alfred!" His mom called.
"Yeah mom?" He answered, forgetting about his weight for a moment.
She appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. "Can you walk to the store and pick up a gallon of milk? We just ran out."
He nodded, "Sure." There was a mini mart a block away so it would be a quick trip.
His mom handed him a twenty dollar bill. "If you're hungry feel free to buy something for yourself."
"Okay," he said taking the money, shoving it in his pocket. He wouldn't buy anything for himself to eat.
His mom smiled sadly, watching Alfred walk from the bathroom to down the hall. She couldn't help but look at his face every time they talked. His cheeks were sunken in and hollow, she knew he had lost weight but couldn't tell how much under his sagging clothing. She wanted to say something but didn't know how and it didn't help his father hadn't noticed it.
Alfred went to his room, grabbing his coat. It was cold and snowing outside and he did not want to be cold. He put it on over his sweatshirt and put on his scarf and hat.
"I'll be back in ten," he called, heading out the door now.
He was hit with a chilling breeze and pulled his scarf up over his nose. He glared at the snow on the ground hatefully. I freaking hate the cold, he growled in his mind. The walk to the store was short and he was grateful the building had heating.
He grabbed a gallon of milk, the jug feeling like a hundred pounds in his hands. He looked at the sugary snacks around the store in colorful plastic. He desperately wanted to buy one. Just… one… He hesitantly grabbed a small package of cookies. He went to the counter, excitedly thinking about the cookies in his hand. He threw everything onto the counter, fishing the money from his pocket. He paid and left with the heavy bag in his hand.
Half way home he stopped, sitting on a bench. He grabbed the package of cookies and greedily ate them. He instantly regretted it. His stomach growled at him, demanding more food but he ignored it. He stood up, throwing the wrapper of the cookies into the waste bin next to the bench, and continued home.
He wanted to hit himself. How dare he eat those! He knew he would gain weight from it. He couldn't wait to go home to throw it up. He didn't care if his mom had just made dinner, he would do it. The thoughts of the cookies consumed his mind. He wanted to eat more but wanted to throw it all up.
The bag in his hand suddenly became heavier than it already was. He dropped it with a loud thud. He ripped his scarf away, instantly regretting it as coldness consumed his face and neck. He fell to his knees, not caring anymore, and shoved his finger down his throat. The snow on the ground instantly became a light brown but as he continued to vomit it became darker, darker until it became black in the moonlight.
Alfred was shaking, staring at the dark snow below him. He couldn't stop shaking, his weak arms barely holding him up in the snow. His glasses fell off into the dark snow. He picked them up with a trembling hand and brushed away his blonde hair, placing them on his face.
The glass was now a dark color, stained with the vomit in the snow. He glanced down the street. The street light cast through the glass, revealing the black color was actually red. Alfred blinked.
"No…" he whispered terrified.
His throat burned. His heart beat madly against his chest. What was happening?! He looked at the dark snow, now recognizing the reddish-brown color. It made him sick. He vomited again, this time from the sick thoughts and not because he wanted to.
He choked. Something was terribly wrong. He wanted to stop. He wanted to go home, give his mom the gallon of milk and eat and keep eating until his was full. Then go to bed without throwing up.
Something forced out of his throat again. The dark snow became darker. Thick red liquid dripped out of Alfred's mouth. There was nothing left in his stomach. How could this be happening? Where was this coming from?
He collapsed in the snow, face falling into the dark snow. He inhaled the ghastly smell, snow melting into his mouth and nose and eyes. He closed his eyes, regretting everything.
A small boy woke up. Where was he…?
It was a sunny field of tall grass and almost nothing else. In the distance he could hear a river. He stood up, brushing off his white gown with small chubby hands. His blonde hair moved with the breeze lightly.
He followed the river for what seemed like hours. He reached a town. He moved through the people on the streets, none of them noticing him, and hid behind a barrel as horses pulled a carriage through the streets.
In the seat of the carriage he saw a blonde man with thick eyebrows.