This chapter was very hard for me to write. As I have never suffered from depression (and my thoughts go out to anyone who suffers or knows someone who suffers from it), it was hard to get into the mindset of a depressed indivdual. That's why this drabble is much smaller than the other ones. Also, thank you to Iwait4theRain; wanna go ghost hunting with me? Teehee! :3 I also don't own "Doll Parts"; that song belongs to Hole.
I fake it so real I am beyond fake
And someday you will ache like I ache
~"Doll Parts" by Hole
~.~
Anita didn't know when she stopped feeling emotions. Her heart feels like paper and her limbs feel hinged to her body. But she still wears a smile; it is a painted on smile, but a smile none the less. Anita doesn't want tea and sympathy and she certainly doesn't want to talk about it. All she wants is those responsible for what happened to feel like she does. She wants them to feel fake and used and useless–because that's how those boys made her feel. In fact, she blames them for her becoming this way.
At night she lays curled up on top of her bed, the pillow pressed against her chest giving her the slightest remembrance of what it means to be loved. She whispers bitter prayers–more like curses, really–asking for those boys to feel how they made her feel before all went numb. For Anita knows someone could prick her with a hundred needles and would not feel a thing. And it's all because of them.
So she presses the pillow closer, pretending that it's him, but it's no use. Even thoughts of him can't restart her lifeless heart.