A retrospect - outskirts of Nachton

Continues from A certain reporter

Eating out, enjoying a nice meal was no longer an option. He hasn't done that in months. Avoiding the bigger, newer places, Kyle kept mostly to rinky dink, older diners. That was, of course, when he ate. Meals were secondary when hiding was his number priority. Days would go by before he'd remember he needed to eat something. No more than maybe three days, but things had to change, especially after what he saw today.

Another day, another motel, Kyle lugged his garment bag down the Bate's Motel style one story rambler on the outskirts of town near the airport. It was one in a thousand lined along the Interstate, but he wouldn't stay more than two or three days. Using the bent key, he let himself into Number 6 and kicked the door opened slowly. Feeling along the wall to his right, he flipped the switch and peered in.

Single full sized bed, one night table, small three drawer dresser, a poor excuse for a sink and kitchenette, and a door to the far side on the right, presumably the bathroom. Stepping in, he closed the door quickly and threw his garment bag on the bed. To the opposite side of the door was a small writing desk and tall floor lamp.

Pretty standard, mostly clean, smelled like stale cigarettes, but it would do.

Avoiding walking in front of the mirror above the dresser, Kyle went directly to the bathroom and gathered up the soap bars, wetting them slightly in the bathroom sink without looking up. Immediately he closed his eyes as he began rubbing the soap across the mirror in front of him, until he knew he got enough of the surface not to see his reflection. Opening his eyes, he finished, completely covering the mirror. Walking out to the dresser with more soap and a towel, he stood just to the side of it, looking at the carpet.

It had been months since he looked at his reflection. Avoiding it had been his one important, singular goal. The stares were starting to get to him though, knowing he was wasting away to nothing, but not being able to help it. Not looking made it easy not to see he was slowly starving himself to death. The doppelganger had remained quiet in the reflections he could not avoid. No winks, no voices in his head...nothing. Maybe, maybe he could risk a look?

Putting the soap down on the dresser, he wiped his hands with the towel, drying them. Slipping his suit jacket off, he turned his back to the mirror and laid it on the bed. Next was his button up, slowly undoing the buttons. Both were extremely large on him now, floating around him like adult clothes on a little kid. Even his belt reflected his weight loss with an extra five holes to accommodate his shrinking waist. Stripping down to his underwear, he took a deep breath and then turned around.

"What?"

Kyle looked fine. Shrugging, he reached down and touched his stomach and poked at the flab. Tapping the underside of his chin with the back of his hand, he turned to the side and looked at his profile. It was all still there and he had to admit, he looked pretty damn healthy to him.

"What's the problem here?" he mumbled to himself.

Moving closer to the mirror, he peered at it, looking at his face. In the parking lot a car peeled off, grabbing his attention. Looking off to the windows, he listened to the car drive off before looking back at his reflection; funny how delusions were easily distracted.

Kyle looked in horror at his reflection, stepping back until he fell onto the bed. Shuddering with the spasm of disgust, he stood up and rushed toward the mirror, looking at his body.

Emaciated didn't even begin to cover it.

His arms looked like chicken bones, the muscles small and lean. His ribs were pressed against his almost jaundiced looking skin with his pelvic bones...Jesus he didn't even know he had pelvic bones that looked like that. They jutted out, tight against his skin. His neck, his face? At his heaviest Kyle was about 200 pounds, maybe 210, and at six foot that wasn't bad, but now he couldn't weight more than 140 pounds.

"Jesus Christ," Kyle shrieked, covering his mouth in horror. This is what people saw? This is what the Eternity and Starbust combination had done to him? The constant drinking and smoking? Rushing back to his garment bag, he ripped at the zipper and dug into the bottom of it, pulling out not one, but five bottles of Scotch. Grabbing them up, he raced to his motel door and flung it open, tossing the bottles of Scotch into the parking lot.

One by one the bottles crashed in front of his door. Two hundred dollars worth of mediocre Scotch that he would have consumed easily in one night, gone. Slamming the door, he backed away from it and then turned and looked at the mirror. He rushed up to it, grabbed the soap and began smearing it across the mirror, hiding his reflection.

His body shook with anger and fear till he finally began to sob, hanging his head but continuing to smear the soap. Resting his head on the dresser, he cried into his painfully thin arms.




((OOC Kyle out))

Continues in You're not you