Authors note: I really wanted to write something relating to high school Annie and this is basically what I got from that urge. I'll probably write some related shots at one point (there's a reference to Jeff in here which I can definitely go back to at a later date), but for now I just sort of wanted to deal with my headcanons about how her addiction started. Reviews, etc. mean the world to me!
She thought it would get better after the divorce.
Her parents weren't fighting anymore, and it seemed like everything would fall into place - her mother wouldn't be so annoyed and she'd stop taking everything out on her ('You want to quit cheerleading? Don't be ridiculous, how else are you going to make anyone like you?', 'You got an answer wrong? Maybe that wouldn't happen if you studied harder.')
And her father? Well, maybe he'd want to spend time with her. He'd have his own place, and he could invite her over. They could bond; learn to actually act like father and daughter.
Everything would be perfect.
Except it wasn't. Nothing was as simple as Annie longed for it to be. Once the divorce was settled, her parents weren't miraculously good parents.
Her Dad never called.
Her Mom, if anything, was worse with her.
The bitter comments only seemed hasher now she had no-one else to take her anger out on, and the only thing that numbed the pain was studying until her eyes hurt.
It had all been her mother's doing. It had been her mom who had forced studying down her throat from the word go; she wasn't allowed to play with her toys until her mother was satisfied with what she'd done. It was her mother who'd picked out health care management as her future, her mother who chose the name of every college (mostly Ivy League) Annie was to apply to and her mother who picked out every elective, club and extracurricular the teenager was to participate in.
Even before the divorce, her attempt at a childhood had been poor.
Aside from weekends, when she would bake and then take a trip to the movies with her Bubbe, her schedule was rigorous. Playtime had to be scheduled in, and there wasn't always enough time; toys without educational value just weren't allowed and although Christmas was celebrated most years (again, prior to the divorce) her mother had a strict rule about gift giving, and just what Annie was and wasn't allowed.
Growing up had been a struggle, but as long as she was a high achiever academically, her mother wasn't so bad. Cheerleading was another story, but generally Annie could pretend like it didn't bother her.
She was shorter than the other girls, and less developed in more ways than one. She wasn't even good at cheerleading, but her mother acted like it had all been her idea in the first place.
It hadn't been.
Annie was quite happy going for a less out there, more reserved club. She did enough as it was, but she figured she could find the time for something. Chess club, Mathletes, the school newspaper...anything that could be added to her college resume and take up a few extra hours of her week. Her mother had had other ideas.
It was clear to Annie by the time she was a sophomore that her mother was living vicariously through her. Kathy Edison didn't get the grades she wanted, didn't get into the school she wanted, didn't get the job she wanted. Instead she ended up with a daughter who could do it all for her.
And Annie was slowly growing tired of it.
She didn't complain, not once, but on the inside she was starting to crack.
The pressure was starting to be too much and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find any answers to fix her problems. Her workload was growing larger and larger, and with the amount of clubs and activities her mother refused to let her quit...she was slowly crumbling.
It was only a matter of time before she turned to something and with no friends to go to for advice, the internet was her only source. Her only hope.
Annie Edison was a planner. She had list after list of pros and cons for each school they (Herself and her mother) were considering, and doing something without thoroughly researching first was just a foreign concept to her.
Researching things to help her concentrate and focus was child's play. And to start with it was all perfectly innocent - breathing techniques, natural remedies...silly little things that didn't help her in the slightest.
She was a junior when she found the forums that ultimately led her to Adderall. It sounded like some kind of miracle, it did everything she wanted and all she had to do was swallow one tiny pill a day.
The side effects were of no importance to her.
The possible complications were of no importance to her either.
Focus. Concentration. Energy. Grade booster.
The words leaped off the page. She didn't care about the increased risk of a heart attack, the anxiety, the insomnia, the knowledge that hunger would be subsided during the day and she'd likely be ravenous at night.
The important thing was making it through high school and getting to where she wanted to be. No one would know about the pills when she made it to Yale, no one would care.
She didn't expect finding the drug in Greendale to be so easy, but apparently with a police department as slack as that of Greendale, a website entitled 'Greendale Drug Dealers' was absolutely no big deal.
And neither was meeting up with said drug dealer in broad daylight a mere two days later.
He didn't say much. She learnt that his name was Jack, he studied at the local community college and he'd recently been busted for dealing but thanks to his miracle-working lawyer at Hamish, Hamish and Hamlin (Joe something? Jeff? She was too interested in the pills to really listen) he was free to walk the streets and get back in the game.
She lied about everything. Her name, her age, where she went to school. She would be untraceable.
No one was to ever find out that little Annie Edison was taking Adderall, not even her dealer.
The first pill was in her hand the moment she got home. She dry swallowed it without a second thought.
It was only for a while, only to help her concentrate.
She was going to be fine. Everything was under her control.