Today is going to suck, just like every other day in my life.
"Do you want breakfast before school honey?" Mom asks.
She already knows the answer; no. I don't eat breakfast. I'm skinny from an eating disorder; I cut myself to let out emotions because I'm bullied constantly.
I don't like speaking. It's hard for me. I shake my head and walk out the door.
I hear her start crying. "Well have a good day!" She calls after me.
Not likely.
She cries every day I leave and honestly, I feel bad. I get in my blue Ford Fusion Hybrid.
I've been completely depressed and suicidal and bipolar with an eating disorder and self-harming since I was in the sixth grade and eleven years old and my best friend turned her back on me, now I am seventeen and in my senior year of high school.
Mom and Dad do care, they really do. The problem is I am un-healable. They have tried every single medicine under the sun, spent thousands on therapists, sent me to countless support groups, I've been to rehab three times, I moved in with my grandma.
Nothing works.
My parents are so sad. I can see it. I want to get better but the thing is...I don't think I actually know how to.
I want to smile a real smile and a real laugh. I want to stop cutting myself.
But the bitch Glimmer and her whore friend Clove send me to near breaking point each day.
Nothing is working; I've upset my entire family. It's best to just leave. I'm going to make the jump tonight. It's not like they will miss me.
I have to speak today and interact with people because a high school burnt down and we're getting most of the students from there because our school is really under populated. The seniors each get assigned a senior and we have to show them around the school and to their classes.
It would be so each to just drive into a tree as fast as my car will go.
I don't do it though. Why should I?
I live in Bloomington, Illinois. It's January and it's in the negatives and I honestly don't care. I'm careful of the slippery road.
I pull into my parking lot and duck my head as I trudge into the school. I've got a yellow iPhone with the life proof case. I don't use it as a phone except for family members because I don't have a single friend.
When the doors shut behind me, the lunch room goes silent, and the issue with senior year is that my uncle Cinna is the principle and he always keeps his eyes on me.
My grades are terrible even though I try real hard. I hear Glimmer's stupid laugh. I can sometimes have a violent bipolar attack and I clench my hands in fists in the pocket of my sweatshirt on my way past as I resist the urge to pound her head onto the floor. That could probably kill her though. "What? Your just going to run away to your little girlfriend, you lesbian!" She laughs evilly and almost everyone else in the cafeteria does to.
That's stupid. She knows I don't have a girlfriend because I always am by myself. She also knows I am straight because we were best friends and we used to giggles about cute boys back in the fifth grade; before everything went downhill.
Well that equals one cut, doesn't it?
I cover my hands with the sleeves of my sweatshirt and walk over to the lunch table all the way in the corner and put my head down.
When the first bell rings we are all to report to the auditorium. For now, kids I don't know are here and they all see what Glimmer does and I know that they probably think it's hilarious, just like everyone else. "She's so fucking ugly! I bet she hasn't showered in a month!"
Everyone bursts out laughing again. Well there's cut two, and I haven't even fucking been here five fucking minutes.
Of course I've showered. I've always been a neat freak and I spend my time crying and cleaning things that are always completely clean. If I'm not doing that, then I'm sleeping.
She keeps shooting rude words, and I want to get better so desperately that I need to stop hearing the words, so I dig my earbuds from my bag and shove them into my phone and then my ears.
And then I blast the Jonas Brothers. I don't care if they are an old band, I love all three of them and their little brother. I love Demi Lovato. I really look up to her.
My head rests on my arms, and I won't hear the bell even when it rings.
After a couple of minutes, somebody taps my shoulder. I ignore.
They tap my shoulder again, more insistent. I look up. It's a girl with green eyes and black hair. She's got three others with her. One has dark short hair and brown eyes. She looks ready to kill everybody, one has bronze hair and green eyes and one has blue eyes and blond hair.
I pull out my earbuds. "The bell rang..." The girl with dark hair trails off. I shut off my music and rip out the earbuds and shove them in my bag. I don't bother putting my phone away, simply because my Uncle Cinna, who is the principle knows that music is the only thing that calms me down. He knows that, and he's notified the teachers of my problems so I am allowed to have my phone out whenever I want unless I'm testing. I stand up and sling my bag over my shoulder. "I think it's really mean what that girl says about you. The fact that everyone laughs is just cruel. You don't deserve that. I'm Annie Cresta." She sticks her hand out.
I force myself to shake it. "Katniss Everdeen." I mumble. My throat hurts from not talking at all.
"That girl is a real bitch," the girl with short dark hair says.
"I know..." I whisper.
"I'm Johanna Mason." She sticks her hand out. I force myself to shake it, too.
"By the way, beautiful, you are not ugly." The guy with bronze hair says. "Not at all." He smiles and I feel extremely uncomfortable. "Finnick Odair." He kisses the back of my hand.
The guy with blond hair looks upset about something. "I'm Peeta Mellark." He shakes my hand.
"We're going to get in so much trouble." Annie whispers because the late bell just rang. I stop by the vending machine and they follow me. They must be new kids. I get a bottle of water.
"No we won't." I wave them off. "My uncle is the principle." Then I turn and head down the long hallway that raps almost around the entire school. They follow me again. I stop at the door on the left and rip it open. Cinna is standing on the stage and the place is flooded with students.
"I need all new students up here." Cinna says. The four of them scurry past me and they start whispering when they're out of my hearing range.
Of course they don't like me. Nobody fucking likes me.
I sit down on the floor in the corner and pull my knees to my chest.
I can't wait to end it tonight; to finally get rid of the pain and suffering.
Everyone looks around for their pairs and they scramble all over the place.
Peeta Mellark walks over to me and holds out his hand. Slowly, I grasp it, and he pulls me to my feet. "Your my guide." He says.
Great, I fight a sigh and pull him out of the auditorium. I show him his schedule three times; I show him all the bathrooms and have him meet the staff. I stay silent for the most part.
"You remind me of my cousin." He blurts suddenly.
"Your cousin?" I whisper.
"Well..." He sighs and looks upset as he scratches the back of his head. "She had an eating disorder and she self-harmed...she was sixteen and she...she killed herself and I just..." He looks so upset and heartbroken. "I just wish I could tell everyone out there with an eating disorder, or who has harmed themselves in any way that they are worthy of life. That their life has a meeting. That they can overcome and get through anything."
I stare at him. Is that true; that I am worthy of something? My life has a meaning? Can I really overcome this?
He stares back at me for a long time. "I know your depressed. I know you starve yourself. My cousin and I were best friends. I recognize the symptoms. The fact that you're so quiet, that you wear sweatshirt, that your skinny. For every minute that your sad, you lose sixty seconds if happiness. You should get better. I watched my cousin suffer and we tried everything. Nobody deserves to be unhappy because of what somebody else thinks about them."
"I-I can't be happy. It's impossible for me to get better."
"Nothing is impossible." He whispers. I back away from him. The last thing he calls after me before I'm out the door is, "I'm not telling you it's going to be easy, Katniss. I'm telling you it's going to be worth it. Your value doesn't decrease based on somebody's inability to see your worthiness and beauty!"
...8...
I sit in my bedroom, staring out the window at the snow falling. I'm not telling you it's going to be easy, Katniss. I'm telling you it's going to be worth it. Your value doesn't decrease based on somebody's inability to see your worth and beauty.
I don't have beauty. I don't have a single bit of beauty. I'm not beautiful.
I thought it was impossible for me to get better. Nothing works. Maybe…I don't need help. Maybe I have to do this on my own.
My stomach growls loudly, begging me for food. I haven't eaten in nearly a week and I am, indeed starving.
I know for a fact that right now Mom, Dad and my nine year old sister Prim are downstairs eating dinner because Mom already came up here and asked me if I was hungry and I lied and told her no.
And I'm hungry. No, scratch that; I'm starving.
I want to eat. If I want to get better, I'll start by feeding myself. The only reason I can function without falling down is because I drink water from the tap in the bathroom.
I never come out of my room unless I need something or I'm going to school. I don't see my family; any of them; unless they come to me.
Maybe I should start by letting some love into my life. I rise to my feet, hug my body and go downstairs. Everyone looks up at me and I see Dad's eyes flick to Mom's. They don't act excited or happy because they know I'm going to get pissed off and go right back upstairs. I hesitate though, and then slowly, I get a plate from the cabinet and serve myself. I head for the stairs again, but I stop and go back to the table. Mom set my place at the table. Her and Prim and Daddy always set my place at the table. I take the plate they put there and put it back and put my plate down, sit down, duck my head and silently eat.
I know they're going to get me to talk. I get up again and get myself milk because I'm really thirsty.
When I was a kid, back when I did have every meal and I didn't have cuts all over my wrists and I did smile and talk and play games, I always put strawberry in my milk because I hate actual milk. I rummage through the cabinets and the refrigerator.
"What are you looking for?" Mom asks, clearly hoping to hear the sound of my voice for the first time in the month.
"Where the strawberry stuff?" I ask quietly. "Do you guys still buy that stuff?"
"Of course," Mom stands up and opens the cabinet I did not look in and gets the strawberry syrup. I rip off the label and throw away the plastic and get a spoon and put the syrup in my milk, put the syrup in the fridge and mix my milk until its pink. Then, I set my spoon down on my napkin, drink half of my milk and then continue eating.
"How was school?" Dad blurts.
"Borning." I mumble. "But I met this guy today-"
"You did?" Prim asks excitedly. "What's he look like? Is he cute? What color eyes?"
"He has blond hair and blue eyes…" I trail off.
"Is he cute?" she repeats.
My face grows hot and I know I'm blushing up a storm. "He's not ugly."
"So he's gorgeous? Katniss the opposite of ugly is gorgeous." Prim says.
"Fine he's hot…" I mumble.
"What's his name?"
"Peeta Mellark…" I mumble.
"Oh, I know who he is. His parents own the Mellark's bakery. You used to have play dates with him when you were little." Mom says.
"Did he hurt you?" Dad demands.
"No, he-"
"Was he respectful?"
"Yes he-"
"Was he a gentlemen?"
"He said I remind him of his cousin. He said his cousin killed herself." I blurt. They fall silent.
"Oh…" mom whispers.
"And then he said 'I just wish I could tell everyone out there with an eating disorder, or who has harmed themselves in any way that they are worthy of life; that their life has a meeting and that they can overcome and get through anything.' And then he said 'I know your depressed. I know you starve yourself. My cousin and I were best friends. I recognize the symptoms. The fact that you're so quiet, that you wear sweatshirt, that your skinny. For every minute that your sad, you lose sixty seconds if happiness. You should get better. I watched my cousin suffer and we tried everything. Nobody deserves to be unhappy because of what somebody else thinks about them.' And then I told him that it's impossible for me to get better and he said 'nothing is impossible'. I started to run away and that last thing he said before the doors shut were 'I'm not telling you it's going to be easy, Katniss. I'm telling you it's going to be worth it. Your value doesn't decrease based on somebody's inability to see your worthiness and beauty!'." I'm done eating now, but I don't run and hide.
"He's a nice kid." Dad says after a couple of minutes.
"You should marry him!" Prim squeals.
"Prim!" Mom scolds. Her shoulders droop.
"Sorry…" she trails off.
They fall silent again. Then mom says, "He's right, you know. Getting better is worth it, and you value doesn't decrease because of what other people think of you. The only person's value that decreases is everybody that thinks everything that is happening is funny and by the people that are doing this to you."
I shrug my shoulders in reply. "I'm not worthy and I don't have beauty-"
"You are more than worthy and you have more beauty than you can imagine!" Dad says.
"Well I don't feel worthy and I don't feel like I have beauty." I whisper.
"You are worthy. You are worth everything. I would do anything for you, and you are so incredibly beautiful." Prim whispers. "To be honest, the only reason you don't have guys lined down the block with boners is because of those sweatshirts."
"Primrose Everdeen, how do you know what a boner is?" Mom gasps. I look down, trying not to laugh.
"That is beside the point, mother. I say we get Katniss cute clothes to wear to school so she can see she is worth is and she's beautiful."
They take me shopping and get me a ton of clothes from Hollister and American Eagle and Tillie's.
Now I stand in the bathroom with the knife in my hand, the tip right over my heart.
Your value doesn't decrease based on somebody's inability to see your worthiness and beauty.
I shake my head, tears cascading down my cheeks. Then, I set the knife down.
I won't kill myself tonight. I'm looking forward to seeing Peeta Mellark tomorrow.