Anorexia

... The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock. Jane looked round her noticed the full plate of nourishing dinner from the night before waiting on her desk; her eyes were drawn to it like her worst enemy and the food stared back mocking the look of fear in her eyes. She lay in silence which was soon broken by her noisy alarm. As it beeped instantly she could feel it penetrating her space. It was the starter's pistol and the rest of the day was a marathon to her. She was like a tired athlete trying to please her demanding coaches and competing everyday. She had lost sight of the goal. The finishing line had become blurred. She dragged her exhausted, weak body from bed and stood in front of the mirror; where, in only her underwear, she stared at her body. Jane had always been flawless: perfect

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