L'espoir fait vivre

Francis stepped on the scales, his eyes clamped shut. He froze, waiting. Cautiously, he opened his eyes and looked down. His heart broke at the number on the scale. 150 pounds. His eyes filled with tears, and he dropped to his knees. He held the tears back, his sadness being replaced with disappointment and disgust. He shakily sat down against the bath, the tiles of the bathroom floor cold against his bare skin. He stared into space, thinking. Minutes passed, and voices in his head were screaming at each other.
Fat. Disgusting. Worthless. Greedy.
Eventually, he dragged himself up. Dressing slowly, he bit hard onto his lip, the pain chasing the tears away. He reached out a shaky hand, opening the bathroom door.

  1. francisleseduisant reblogged this from magical-scones and added:
    Francis’ blue eyes widened temporarily, shock flashing over his face. He hadn’t thought he’d lost that much weight… Not...
  2. magical-scones reblogged this from francisleseduisant and added:
    Arthur sighed, “I lost my cell. Your place was the last place I had it…” he looked him up and down swiftly. He was...