Jessie is a 17 year old boy with an issue that everyone forgets. Jessie knows Hunger like he knows no other. He loves Hunger, and he's pretty sure Hunger loves him. Jessie doesn't remember what it's like to have a full meal, or a full stomach. Will someone realize their friendship before its too late?


7. Scars And Coffee

Current Weight: 123 lbs

Current BMI: 19

Total Weight Loss: 35 lbs


She isn't there. Why isn't she sitting in front of me? Why isn't she hiding during lunch? Why isn't she doodling in Chemistry when she should be taking notes?

One day. Two days. Three days. Three days without Emerald. Then the weekend. Five days without Emerald. I think it may be the longest time of my life. It's like trying to live without air.

I'm eating three large strawberries (18) when she walks in. Her hair is in one of those horrible sloppy buns and she looks like she just rolled out of bed and drove her. I love it.

She takes her seat silently.

Why do I care?

There's little lines on her right arm.

Why do I care?

What happened? Did she do it on purpose? Was it from helping her mother with her rose bush garden? Did she crash a car?

The lines are all the same length, same shallowness. She did it to herself.

I rip off the corner of a paper I was writing on and write "You're beautiful" and throw it over her. When she turns to see who through up, I look down, pretending I don't notice a thing. I see a smile briefly kiss her lips.

The day drags by. All I want to do is run.

Why did you eat those three strawberries? I thought you wanted to be lovely. Hunger isn't happy with me. But there's a new voice now too. I think normal people call it "Reason".

You need more than those berries. How about a banana? Or a small salad? Walnuts maybe?

Reason obviously hasn't seen how fat I am.


I like it black.

Black coffee. 2 calories for 8 ounces of energy. I breathe enough to burn off those calories, right? Why do those two calories matter? Compared to the 2000 normal people eat, 2 is nothing. To me, 2 is everything.

I'm drinking my usual, 14 ounces of black (about 4) coffee when Emerald walks in. She doesn't look like a coffee person, and she isn't. She gets one of those loaded caramel frappes with more calories than I dare count.

The place is busy today; I took the last empty table. She looks around in panic, then bites her lips and makes her way over to the table I'm at.

"Um, do you mind if I sit?" Her voice is nearly silent. Her eyes aren't.

"No, not a bit!"

She pulls out her laptop from her bag and furiously begins typing. It's like I'm not even here.

I want to kiss her.

But her lips are touching calories. Kissing her might bring up my calorie intake. Calories, calories, calories.

"So, thanks for stopping by," I tell her as I get up. I don't think she heard me. It's probably for the best. If she learned who I was, she would probably run away, just like everyone else.

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