How are we already at chapter 21 fr?? 

Trigger Warning: Mentions of depression, abuse, PTSD, eating disorder/weight, anxiety

Andy set a bowl of rice and soy sauce before Remington and sat down with one for himself. "If you find you don't like it, I'll make you something else," he said.

Remington looked at the food and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. 

"She doesn't control you anymore," Andy reminded him, but Remington didn't agree. She would always control him, no matter how much distance was put between them. 

He shook his head and made no attempt at picking up the fork. "Not allowed," he said simply. It was true. He wasn't. It was a rule. He was only allowed plain lettuce and similar vegetables that were mostly water. Fruit was a once a week 'treat' because of all the sugar, and anything that was considered conventionally 'nice' was out of the question. He wasn't allowed anything that would stop him being hungry. She liked him best when he was hungry, and now, so did he. 

Andy wasn't well versed on how to help an issue like this. He'd struggled briefly with his weight growing up, but had never dealt with anything as all-consuming and as dangerous as Remington. He didn't know how to approach the topic without upsetting the younger, and the last thing either of them needed now was for Andy to lose the trust he had gained. Remington needed to trust him. If he didn't, he'd have no one. 

"Yes, you are," was what he said. "Of course you are." 

"No, I..." Remington looked down at the bowl and then covered his face with his hands, rested his elbows on the table. "She'll...she'll punish me." 

"She can't do anything to you anymore. She's locked up now." 

"No..." He sounded distressed at the thought, as though he didn't want her to be locked up. "No, she...she'll know. She always knows." 

"She can't do anything anymore," Andy said. 

Remington pushed the bowl across the table. "She'll know," he whispered, like he was scared she'd somehow overheard. "Not allowed. Not...allowed." There was a certainty in his voice that could have convinced anyone into believing the same thing. 

"Yes, you are," Andy tried again. What else to say was beyond him. He could deal with angry people, could deal with drunks, could deal with everything that he had been in the past, but knowing how to handle such a delicate and troubling disorder was beyond his limits. 

Adamant, Remington shook his head and pulled his sleeves over his hands. He wanted to rid himself of these clothes. They had soaked up the trauma of the day and smelled of blood and of the police station. He wanted to lie down until he was too weak to get back up again. 

"Just a little bit." 

"She'll know," Remington repeated. He was growing agitated, playing with his sleeves between his fingers. 

"You need to eat," Andy said, and immediately regretted it. What sort of help was that for someone who had been hardwired into complete shutdown? 

"No," was Remington's response. 

"She can't do anything." 

"She'll know," Remington snapped, voice raising. Then he sunk further into his seat and mumbled an apology.

"It's okay," Andy said. He remained calm. "No need to say sorry. Look, let's just try a little bit and see how it goes." 

"Not allowed." 

"You're allowed to do whatever you want to do." 

"Well then I don't want to eat," Remington told him. 

"That's not really an option." 

"So then I'm not allowed to do whatever I want, am I?" 

"Remington, please. You know you need food to survive. You can't continue starving, it'll kill you." 

"You can't make me do anything!" Remington shouted, pushing his chair back with a screech and leaving the kitchen. 

Andy wasn't going to chase after him, had decided that it was probably better to let him calm down on his own, but when he heard the front door from where he was sat with his head in his hands, he got up. Outside the house, it was beginning to go dark, he he caught up to Remington, who was walking quickly down the street with his arms around himself. When he spoke, the boy flinched and whipped around. "Where are you going?" He asked. 

Looking down the road, Remington stepped back from Andy. "Home," he answered. 

"You'll be all on your own." 

Remington's eyes filled and he shook his head, whispered, "No...Holly's-Holly's there." 

"Holly's been arrested." 

The tears spilled onto his cheeks and he looked down the road again. "No, that...that wasn't..." 

"She's with the police now. You'll probably never see her again." 

Taking another step back, he said, "She's with...no. No. She's...she's at-she's at home." 

Andy stayed where he was. "No, honey. Not anymore. She's gone now." 

Remington shook his head slowly, continuing to take steps backward. "No..." 

"She's a bad person and they're going to lock her up." 

"No. No. No, she...she promised. She promised." 

"She promised what?" 

"The only way she'd-she'd leave me is...is if I-if I was dead. I'm not...I'm not dead." 

Andy wanted to take him by the arm and lead him back to the house, but he knew he couldn't. "You don't need to believe anything she said. She's gone." 

Remington hit a lamppost and stepped around it, still facing Andy. "But I'm not dead," he said. "She can't leave me. I'm not dead." 

"She's a liar." 

"No. No. She promised. No lies. She promised."  A car drove by and he stepped away from the road and towards the wall. "She can't break her promise. She...she can't." 

"Why don't we go inside and talk about this? You'll get cold out here." 

Shaking his head, Remington wrapped his arms tighter around himself. "She knows," he said. 

"She knows what?" 

"All the rules. I broke all the rules." He was starting to breathe heavily. "She has to punish me." 

"No, not anymore. She's gone now. She's not at home." 

"She has to be," Remington insisted, getting worked up. "She has to be, because she...she promised ." 

"No. She's not. I promise you. She's not there." 

"No, she...she promised. She promised. I have to...I have to be punished. Always punished 'cause-'cause I always-I always break the rules." 

Andy took a small step towards him and he turned and ran.