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Azula: Once upon a time
"So," You begin, leaning forward in your chair and crossing your legs. "D you remember how this all started?" The chair groans, like the ostrich-horse it used to be before someone murdered it and turned it into a chair in an asylum.
I remember exactly how it happened. Once upon a time, it was the last day of spring, sultry and humid already. I was into some training with my father. A fake Agni Kai. But I was having trouble keeping up with him, he was always two steps ahead of me. Yet he was in time. He attacked, I attacked. He defended, I defended. He breathed, I breathed. He won, I lost. As always. Sweat trickled down both our foreheads, and something flashed in his eyes. He says, "Come on, let's go inside." And I did, not understanding the underlying intentions. But before I knew it, we were on his bed, naked and he was on top of me. I tried to get away, I really did. But I couldn't. Next thing I knew, my whole world was tipped over and I was on the ceiling, waiting to see what would happen next and laughing at how stupid we look together. With me squirming around because it's the most uncomfortable thing I've ever experienced, and him thrusting into me like that. It looked comical. Somehow I knew it was supposed to hurt but I didn't feel it. It is hard to feel something when you are on the ceiling. I am waiting for this to be over so I can do something important. All I have to look forward to is the end of this. He moved, I moved. He breathed, I breathed. I felt him coming out of whatever it is boys come into, and I wait for him to tell me I can go. I run into the bathroom and puke more than I ever have in my life. On the counter, there sits my father's razor, dark and taunting. I pick it up and set it against a towel. A couple of threads come undone. I lay it against a ribbon I took out of my hair. Pressing ever so slightly, the ribbon comes in half and curls on the floor in two. Before I know what I'm doing, I lay the blade against the skin on my wrist. There is a gash, then blood gushes out and into this little bubbly looking thing. I wait, and wait, waiting for the bubble to pop. And when it does, I feel awesome.
Once upon a time, it was the last day of spring, sultry and humid already. The King of the Fire Nation decided it would be a good idea to go inside.
I don't tell you any of this, though. You just sit there until individual therapy is over. "That's all the time we have for today." You say, and leave.
Tomorrow could be a better day
"Does any one have anything to talk about?" Destrie sits forward and makes a tent with her fingers, waiting for someone to speak up. "Come on," She urges. "Yesterday was visiting day, doesn't anyone have anything to share?... Shelia, how about you?"
Shelia is this really, really skinny girl who has to wear a headband to cover up a huge scar that she gave herself. They say she has some sort of eating/behavioral disorder.
"Well," She begins. "Uh, my mom came to visit me. And my brother."
"I see." Destrie, the leader of group therapy at 'Wacky shack' (that's not really what it's called.) says thoughtfully. "Do you care to go on?"
"It didn't go well." She says. "But I really don't care."
"Oh really?" Parnella, who is for some reason here instead of prison for tying to kill some one speaks up.
"Yeah, really."
"You don't care that your mom kept crying because 'My baby's a freak!' , your dad wouldn't talk to any one, and your brother just spent the whole time doing his math homework. That's crap."
Crap is a curse word to She. Everyone gasps and looks at Shelia like a puppy just died in front of her.
"Parnella, you know She doesn't like that word." Basha says. Basha comes from the earth kingdom, she has mousy brown hair and is most of the time a psychopath. Some times, she's normal, most times she argues with herself. See the way it works is here at 'Wacky shack' is that there are four kinds of crazy people. There are 'guests' with self-inflicted issues, sexual issues, people issues, and mental issues. We're all really just assorted psychos here.
"Why don't you let her say that, Basha? She, how come you don't just say 'Parnella, I don't like it when you say 'crap', will you please watch you Agni-be-damned mouth?"Everyone giggles, a little to loud.
"Girls." Destrie says, flipping some ebony hair over her shoulder. "Let's not rip each other to shreds. Does any one else have anything to say?" I sit very still. Destrie, like me, is a hawk for body language. Leaning forward means you want to talk, leaning back means you want to talk, biting your nails means you want to talk. I don't move.
"Azula,how about you?" I have not spoken since I got here, and I'm not going to break that now just for some sappy tear-jerker about how no one came to visit me. I shake my head.
Here, we're supposed to sit in one big group. But we sit by 'issue'. I sit by no one. I am one of the two with mixed issues, so there is no one in whom I can confide. The bell rings, and now it is time to go get ready to bed. And then I start my hell again tomorrow. I run to the bathroom to shower. I hate standing there without anything on but a towel. For some reason, I feel self conscious about my legs, even though I'm not the only one with hairy legs. Here, the patients are not allowed to have 'sharps'. That includes razors, so no one shaves. I take time in the shower to scan my body. I look at all the blemishes I put on my self. The scars on my wrists, stomach, and legs. Every night, I force myself to see what I did to my self. I step out and dress. I start to mix my water to brush my teeth, waiting for it to get to the perfect temperature. Lexie comes into the bathroom, too. She's a beautiful girl, but so small. She's stick thin and 4'9. She has ivory colored skin and white hair. She said she 'got it from her uncle, Jeong-Jeong the deserter' at least, that's what I think she said.
"Tomorrow's a holiday." She said quietly, but happily. I keep circling my finger in the water. Something small breaks inside of me. I know Lexie's story. She was, like me, raped by her father. Until she was12, her uncle found out and killed her dad. During group, she doesn't talk either. She just sits cross-legged and twirls her thin white hair around her finger, staring off into space like that's where she belongs. Every so often, the hair comes out. When she has her hair up, it's hard to tell any thing's missing, but now she has it down now and she looks like a cancer patient.
"Do-" Lexie took a deep, shaky breath, like she's trying to compose herself before she says anything. "Do you really want us to ignore you?" She asks sincerely. I don't see her, but I feel her standing across the room from me. I just stare at my water like something about it is very, very important. I suddenly feel kind of bad for giving the silent treatment to some one so wounded that weighs 92 pounds. She sighs and finishes her nightly routine, exiting irritably. If Jeong-Jeong really is her uncle, now I know where she got her attitude. I go to my room and press my face against the cool wood of my bed frame. I lay down and try to fall asleep. I remember some words you told me the first day I got here. 'Tomorrow could be a better day.' But I doubt such optimistic advances could ever be true.
A/N: So, what do you think?
