Hi guys😘! I'm back. I've deleted my old stories and I'm starting fresh! If you follow me you might recognize this story. It was originally called Reverse Psychology. I'm polishing up my chapters and working on making them longer. I have the next 3-4 chapters written so expect new chapters soon. The begging of this may be a bit bleak, but please stay with me because I have great plans! If you enjoy this chapter please be sure to leave a comment or contact me on Instagram uk_bow . Love you guys, bye❤️

My name is Katniss Mellark. I work at my family bakery, which I enjoy most of the time because it helps me get my mind off of things. I do my very best in school and do as much extra credit work as I possibly can so that someday I can get away from my unsettling mother. You see, my mother torments me and I can't do much about it. I have twocolder brother named Josh and Rye. They are so protective of me and if they ever found out about what is going on with my mother and I, I think they would just about tear her to pieces.

I paint my feeling sometimes. Ever so often I will show my father my paintings. He says that I have "A very active imagination.'', but what he doesn't know is that it's not my imagination. I find myself painting what my mother does to me some times, but I don't dare show anyone those.

When it comes to love I'm not a big fan. I've tried before but the pain it led to is unspeakable. I also don't want to pick the wrong person like my father and be stuck with a witch.

"Katniss it's time for your shift," a deep familiar voice calls from down the stairs.

"I'll be there in a second," I yell back.

I get dressed in my school cloths and put my apron on over it. I walk to the bathroom and get ready. Looking in the mirror and I see the same useless girl my mother sees, she has made a dent in me both mentally and physically. The reminding pain brings me to think of the marks on my wrist I made about a month back. I pull down my long sleeves a bit because the long red scares are visible.

"Katniss now!" My mother's blood curdling voice calls from down the stairs. "People are waiting to be served on!"

A shiver runs up my back due to my mother's order. I quickly finish the braid I started and head to the bakery. Once I open the back door, in front of me is an angry mother with her arms crossed and foot tapping.

'Slap!'

The sound of my own face against her hand startles me, even though I expected it. I take a couple of steps back holding my now red face. An uncontrollable tear runs down my cheek. I try to hide the pain, but she sees it and grins a big grin so ugly that my stomach churns.

"You know you disgust me?'' she udders. "Now feed your own kind in the back and get to work," She says implying to feed the pigs we bread in the back of the bakery.

I walk out the door past my mother. The first thing I see is a starving blond hair boy up against a tree.

'How did I not notice him before?' I think to myself. 'I have to help him,'

I stand there for a moment trying to think of some way to help this distress boy but I have no idea what to do and whatever I do I risk a scolding from my mother.

'What has happened to me? Why me? Why does my own mother hate me? '

I'm in my bed with tears and blood streaming down my face.

I gave bread to the boy. Not directly but he still got it. When my mother found out about it she took me upstairs and beat me. Actually the memory of her beating me is a bit fuzzy, due to a few blows to the head. What did she call me again? Worthless? Disgusting? A dirty bitch? I just can't remember. It could have been all of the above for all I know. What did I do to her? Why does she hate me? Does she know I've almost killed myself before, because of her?

I lay there for quite some time while question after question comes into my mind. My head if pounding, throbbing more like it. I get up and grab my bloody sheets. I'm quick to go down stairs and throw my stained bedding into the washer.

My family says nothing. Maybe because they never saw me walk past. I don't know, but what I do know is that I need to take a shower before my father or brothers see my bloody face.

I practically run to the bathroom and get undressed. My thoughts are overwhelming and my head is over flowing. I know I'm going to end up cutting tonight so I might as well get it over with. I look in my bathroom cupboards and find nothing but soap, toothpaste, and an empty men's razor box. I look around frantically for something to cut with, but fail. I give up and just slump into the tub.

I turn the knob to the tub all the way and feel hot water run across my toes. I lean back getting ready to close my eyes, when I see it. 'My mother razor'. How could I have not thought to look in the shower? I grab the razor and hold it close to my face, observing it.

It's not the best thing to cut with, but it's something. I think for a moment, until I come up with knocking it on the bathroom floor so it will break. I do so until a razor blade falls out. Setting down the plastic to the shaving device I pick up the small metallic blade.

I hold it tight and sink into my now blistering hot bath water. Actually the water is too hot, and when I notice my grip on the blade tightens causing some of my skin to break. Blood starts flowing through the water as my face drains of all color.

I don't turn the water temperature down though because I know I deserve the pain. My grip on the blade loosens when I realize I haven't done nearly enough damage.

I don't think much about where to cut next, I just do it.

I put pressure on the blade and hold it up to my inner legs causing the steamy water to turn a shade of pink-ish red. With every cut I make the darker the water turns mixing with the old blood caused by my mother. When I have decided I'm done the color of my bath water is comparable to a dull apple.

I get up out of the red mixture of water and blood and start scrubbing the red off of the tub. Once it's clean and all evidence of me cutting myself is gone I decide I'm going to get some rest and escape from this mad world for a couple of hours.

I walk down stairs and switch my wet sheets to the drier after changing into worm pajamas. I plop on the couch waiting for my sheets to be ready, but soon enough my eye lids become heavy and I doze off.

Weak! that's all I feel right now, is weakness. It's not because of my cutting or the pain, It's the utter disgust I feel for letting my family down. I'm not who they want me to be and, I'm not who I want me to be. My life is spiraling down hill and all I have done to stop it is pout in the corner feeling sorry for myself.

My heart beats, but for no one in particular. My voice works but, I don't use it to speak up. My legs aren't broken, but I don't walk away. But, but, but, is that all the hell I think about? I dream about how one day I'll be free and of to college! That's never going to happen without money though. scholarships might pay half of the bill but I'll never leave if I don't have the money. Mother acts as if she hates me and you would think she would want me gone, but no. She has not put a single cent down for college.

"Don't you get it dad? She isn't happy here!" My thoughts are interrupted by Rye's loud voice coming from the kitchen. "And she never will be!"

Who could they be talking about? I think, while sprawled on the sofa, eyes still clenched shut.

"Rye please, your going to wake Katniss,"

Ha to late for that,

''Dad, somethings wrong and I know it," His voice softens.

"Believe me I've noticed Katniss' depression over the last couple of days and I-" When I hear my name my heart stops.

My fathers words are rudely interrupted when my brother's voice rings. "It's been more then a couple of days! It's been months since I've seen Katniss last smile,''This vary thought brings a frown to my face. "I miss the old Katniss dad,'' A tear rolls down my cheek when I hear my brother's sobs. They have stopped speaking now but, my brothers cried still go on. I imagine my fathers comforting arms wrapped around Rye.

The crying goes on for a minute or so when I hear what sounds like two people's sobs. Is my father crying too? That is when it really hit me in the face. I can't give up!