One.

One.

I stared into my own vacant expression in the mirror. I searched my body for something, something that I had lost. Everything. All I could see was a grey surface, a sunken stomach and protruding hips. My collar bone stretching out from under my translucent skin. I moved my hands delicately over my torso, my fingers touching the contour that curved in, rather than out. I changed my gaze back to my face, sunken eye sockets, brown stained bags, no sparkle, no life. My lips chapped, violent red seeping through blue. I winced and averted my gaze to the floor, stepped out of the bath and clothed my self. The material hung off my tired bones. My body hurt, my bones grinding together, my lungs breaking from my chest. But I found a quiet relief in the way my heart didn't hurt. The pain from everything else meant I couldn't feel it, that agonising tugging and ripping at my organ.