Welcome to my story. More information will be posted at the bottom. Thank you. -Ev
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games Trilogy or any of it's characters.
Rated T for language. Warning: Do not read twelve or under without parental approval. ;D
Chapter 1: Am Not.
I pull back my thin blonde hair into a ponytail and check my watch again. Three minutes before Dr. Vannet will comes out to usher me into her office. She always asks for me to call her Stacy, that's why I make it a point to pronounce "Doctor" long and slow: rub it into her face a little more.
The big wooden door swings open, slamming into the nearest wall and making a dent. Guess they finished early. A very upset nine year-old girl runs out, one of the regulars, her name is Marina. Her eyes are red and her nose is leaking everywhere when shoots me a glare and huffs and puffs out the main entrance. Seems like somebody forgot to eat their happy flakes this morning.
"Hello, Lila. Ready for your appointment! Your dad tells me lots of things have happened since your last visit." I sigh and shove my bobby pin into my book as a page marker. When I walk past Dr.V I make sure to bump into her shoulder. Looks like I didn't eat my happy flakes either.
"Oops it's alright," she says cheerfully walking in behind me. Oops I didn't even apologize to begin with bitch. I roll my eyes at her when she turns to sit down and I sink into the big puffy couch. Pulling out my book I make it obvious that we won't be talking this session, or quite frankly any session. Ever.
"So… it's been almost a year now. How old would that make you?" I continue to read the words on the page, not really comprehending them, and I bite my tongue to stop with any snotty remarks that could get me grounded.
"Lila, I know this has always been hard for you. That's no reason not to try," Dr.V sighs and tries to make eye contact, "I want to make things better for you. I honestly do. Dealing with mental illness can be ha-"
"I am NOT mentally ill," I interrupt her, hissing each word. How dare she try to tell me those lies again. It's been a year since i've had to meet with her.
Back in the ninth grade, when I was fifteen, mom and dad thought that maybe talking to someone would help me deal with whatever they thought was going on inside my brain. The sessions with the Doctor started bad. I would sit there staring at her dull brown eyes for an hour and she would stare back at my electric blue ones. Occasionally asking a question but never getting a reply. Soon I learned to always bring an activity with me. Sometimes homework, knitting supplies, and markers for drawing (although I was always bad at it) but then I made a goal to read a new book every week and the hour long session became reading time. Finally when dad saw I was making no progress he spoke to mom and she agreed to take me out if I really tried to get better.
"Okay," she says pulling me back to reality, "you're not ill. I want to know something though, what do you think you are Lila?" This question makes me pause. What am I? Never had anyone asked me this. I was always told I was a girl who was anxious and depressed, severely suffering with OCD, and had slight delusional disorder. Of course this is what I was diagnosed with but I never trusted any of those tests to begin with. Especially when they began the medications, check-ups, and these god awful therapy sessions. What am I?
"I'm Lila Mellark," I say with absolute sureness. There was no hesitation because I was feeling pretty confident with this answer. Simple and true but of course it wasn't enough for her.
"Who is she?"
"None of your damn business, that's who." I glare back at her slightly widened eyes. She seems slightly unsettled, but only for a second.
"Fair enough. Your mother says you've been scheduling again, is this true?" Just like that she regains her composure.
"Bullshit. So maybe i've been writing down what time projects for school are due, is that so wrong? Why don't you all just sue me," I grumble and pick at my sweater, growing slightly more upset with each passing second.
"Well we both know if it was just you planning homework, your mother wouldn't bring it up. Peeta also mentioned a slight drift back towards calorie counting. He mentioned you've been perfectly eating around 1,200 calories a day. Is this true?" I look away from her stare but I can still feel it on my face. It's like she's pulling the truth out from my throat. I can feel the words slowly being dragged from their confinement inside my brain, the calories, all 700 of them, are being air lifted from my stomach and are waiting to burst through my mouth. Settle down, I mentally urge myself, but it's to late.
"I've been scheduling. A lot. What time I go to sleep, wake up, eat, excersive, drive to school, help Tommy with homework, go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, shower, and everything else I can. One thousand two hundred calories are the perfect amount for maintaing a healthy balanced weight for my age and height. One hundred and twenty pounds exactly. If you think i'm going to stop then you're wrong and NO you don't have permission to mention this to anyone," I finish out of breath. Way to fucking go. My hands turn into fists and I have to use all my will power not to punch myself. The room is quiet and Dr.V has her head in her stupid notepad jotting away all of my secrets that will later go into a file, labeled Lila Mellark, a file that was once empty.
"Ah yes very good Lila. I won't say a word. Thank you for being brave and telling me your struggles. Unfortunately our time is up but I can call your mom to schedule the next appointment," she says with her eyes still on my words that she was vigorously scribbling down. I try not to pass out.
I couldn't of got out of that office any faster. By the time I get in my car I check the clock 5:50 P.M. She let me out of our appointment early because she must of remembered that I need ten minutes to drive home for my dinner precisely at 6:00. As I drive home I finally notice that snow has fallen. It's a bit late considering it's november and we're in District twelve but I welcome it anyway. The snow is beautiful and it shines like crystals when it falls. It's clean and pure without any noticeable flaws, other then the cold temperature which I like anyways. Snow fits nicely into my neat life and I accept it.
Pulling through Victors Street, I finally make it home and park the new energy saving car I got for my birthday in my parking space. I quickly wipe of the salt that came up from the roads off the wheels and sweep the garage floor. Once everything is nice and clean, I check my watch. 6:03 P.M. I cringe and quickly run through the door and arrange my shoes before opening the fridge and taking out my prepared dinner. An autumn salad with a ranch dressing packet, a side of bread and an apple. 500 Calories. It fits perfectly into my last meal for the day.
"Hey hun." Dad walks past me and ruffles my hair. I only growl in response and fix the tangled strands before redoing the pony tail completely. "A little late for dinner huh?"
"Yeah you guys didn't sweep the garage," I mutter back before shoving some of the salad into my mouth.
"We never agreed to, Lila Smileah. Your mom and I think it's unreasonable."
"I told you never to call me that and whatever. I'll do it myself from now on." He frowns at me, clearly not liking the idea of me obsessing over something as "unimportant" as millions of little mistakes splayed all over the garage floor. Dad messes up my hair one last time before taking his coat and keys to head to the bakery. Mom went out to greet the new neighbors across the street with a few dead squirrels, and since she's not back i'm guessing that they accepted her offer of murder and are treating her to a nice dinner. This is good news considering she's not really good at making friends. I'm a lot like her, quiet and stubborn without the need to be surrounded by people.
"TOMMY! GET DOWN HERE YOU LITTLE MONSTER!" I start to get out supplies to make him pasta since I have a couple minutes to spare and mom's still out, but he calls back, "DAD BROUGHT HOME TAKEOUT."
Hhmph. I begrudgingly put back the supplies and reorganize the fridge before taking the routine shower and starting on my homework. After about an hour, i'm finished with my AP history essay and my art project thats due in a week. I like getting things done early since it takes down the stress level and leaves more room to study.
I check the planner for any other chores before I brush my teeth and put on my PJ's. It's a friday so I set my alarm for 10:00 A.M. and get under the clean sheets. As I close my eyes I force away the dark thoughts that spin around my brain on a cycle. Tonight, they seem to get the idea, and they lay down to rest with me. Soon i'm drifting off, subconsciously planning the rest of my life.
Hello! This is the prologue/first chapter of my new story "What are you?" I have a couple other stories posted on my other account called evlynrox but this is now my official account. I'm not really good with punctuation and grammar so if you see a few mistakes feel free to point them out and give me a little english lesson ;) anyways PLEASE review. I won't force you but it does mean a lot. Feel free to favorite or follow as well. Check out my profile for more information on me. I hope to see you all for chapter two which will be a little longer. Don't worry, we'll get to the romance soon my friends. Any questions on the disorders mentioned in this chapter? Review or PM me and i'll answer them! UPDATE GOAL: By tuesday (aug. 7th) THANKS A TON! -Evelyn