lorna stevens / district 5 / cbd1

You've never known anything other than wanting.

Hunger.

A desperate, gnawing need for more. Always more.

Your mother always found it irritating. After all, she had worked her ass off once your good-for-nothing father had ran out. She'd gotten a second job, and then a third. All to support you and your little brother. So, after every meal when you said "that's it?" or after every birthday present when you asked "is there anything else?" or after every allowance given you demanded "just a little bit more," she would give you a look of disappointment and shame you for being spoiled rotten. 

It wasn't that you were ungrateful, it was just that no matter how much she gave — how much anyone did, really — it was never enough. Each time you had just one more taste, just one more sip of something nasty at one of Leo's parties, just one more kiss in a dark room you would finally feel something. What you were supposed to. What everyone always expected you to feel. 

Full.

Content.

Satisfied.

By now you've accepted that day won't ever come. You were put on this earth to take and take and take.

Nothing more.