She woke up and shivered. She glanced at her blue feet and shuddered. She felt her icy veins pounding and her face saddened. 

Her face, which used to be beautiful, grew worried. Angrily she sat up straight and ran her hands through her long and limp hair. When she pulled back her hands long strands of darkblonde hair were twirled around her small fingers. Not only her fingers were petite, not at all, her whole body was tiny. But it never came alone. She was fragile. Her waist looked like it could break in half any second. The way her green eyes stared at the body they belonged to was soft yet frightening at the same time. Her expression showed both toughness and delicacy. When she stood straight, her legs never touched each other. Like they hated each other and had wanted a divorce forever. The jeans she wore during day time were loose around her upper legs and hips. And then her arms! Her wrists were so small she could easily wrap her slender fingers around them. But what was most prominent when it came to showing her frailness was the sight of her bones. Hipbones, cheekbones, collarbones, she used to repeat. When she was lying in bed, she always placed her hands on her hips first, feeling for bones, then for her cheekbones and collarbones. They could calm her. 

But her face showed her weakness even more. Once, it had contained happiness. It had been delicate. A white porcelain face, blazing green eyes, strawberry-red lips, a dazzling smile, yes, her pretty face once showed nothing but delight. But now that same eyes were sunken and empty. The glint had disappeared. The corners of her mouth were cracked, her lips famished, screaming for nutrition. Her voice had changed, as well. She used to speak in a normal tone, sometimes a bit high, but she had never actually given it much thought. But at this exact moment, when she spoke, her voice became high-pitched and flowing. 

It had to match her personality and appearance. She switched places. She no longer was a fat whale. No, here she was, the elegant, ballerina-like girl she had always desired to be. Collarbones showing, face blank, skinny legs, a small smile on the lips every guy wanted to kiss. She would turn around in front of the mirror she used to hate and winked at herself. If you wanted to be perfect, she thought, you had to become skinny. 

But it did not work that way. Karma is a bitch. And so was the emaciated body. She fainted. Her hair started falling out. Friends no longer trusted her. Her teeth hurt. She could not concentrate anymore. 

Her body had started rotting. The monster in her brains jumped out and tore her apart, it put his hand over her mouth so that she could not eat anymore. It became a permanent voice in her head, stuck there forever. What the monster did, was throwing her personality out of her body. It cut it up with multiple knifes and told her she had to commit fully if she wanted this. But by that time, she had no choice. She was already infected. Whenever she tried to struggle, the monster would smash her down, back to the ground. It would chain her, in a lonely dungeon, and she screamed for help, but nobody heard her calling. The monster took her place and smiled happily at her friends, family, classmates. The monster told lies to disguise himself. And down somewhere, the girl would cry and beg and scream for somebody to get her out of it. 

But at times, she would get out. She would take a baseball bat and hit the monster hard. Then she would run, as fast as she possibly could, and be amazed for a short few seconds by daylight. But after a while, the monster would come after her again. He would grab her and drag her back. 

No one noticed, though.