Mercury Violet Queen {District Twelve} FIN~

0 - 2 years of age: It doesn't matter I'm no longer the baby. It doesn't matter how many children my mother and father have brought into this world after me. I will always be their baby. And as a child I loved their coddling. My chubby toddler hands would pounds against my older siblings, receiving adoring coos from my parents. I would throw fits and refuse to share. Even then, I was desperate for their disapproval. The smile that spread across my lips was nothing but malevolent at this age. A tomboy by no other name I couldn't be bothered with anything branded for a "girl". 

3 - 5 years of age: Though we were not well off to begin with, we were even worse off this time. The warm varieties of food that slid down my tiny throat was soon replaced by the same bland oats. Not amount of salt or butter added to the creamy meal could replace the colors which had once been chewed by the teeth barely beginning to grow. I threw tantrums, refused the atrocity. The fat that padded my young bones soon withered into nothing. I can still hear my mother's cries as the oats were spat upon the floor. 


6 - 8 years of age: Leaving my childhood behind at the age of six we soon befell food fortune once more. And I began to eat once more, though never able to regain the entirety that my body needed. This lead to various health problems. Not all that concerned with my physical health. Often overcome with an overwhelming sadness, I can sit in my room for hours. The room darkened and my head pressed against my knees. And I would cry, for hours without reason. I should not have been sad, I know I shouldn't. I had my brothers, I had my sisters, even if then I had despised my parents. But I was so empty. 


9- 11 years of age: My need for adrenaline begins. Introduced to older boys by my older brothers, I crave their attention. My once baggy clothes become tighter. My hair is dyed by a harsh chemical I had found digging deep withing my parents unused medicine cabinet. And when they took notice, they filled the void left by the overwhelming sadness. 


12- 15 years of age: The boys introduce me to the grass. They tell me to inhale deeply and to fly away. I ask them where they get it, but instead they press their lips against mine and told me not to worry about it. Perhaps it is the flying grass that sparked my interest, nonetheless I begin to experiment. Desperate to find my next fix, to fill the hole growing bigger every single time it was supposedly satisfied. Dares, Drugs, Stealing, they all provide satisfaction. But I prefer creating. Wild flowers plucked from their roots were mashed into a poultice.  Nothing beats the rush when the bitter flowers are wrapped in paper. Lit and welcomed into my lungs. 

Who knows what could happen.