Social Casualty

Chapter 1

I stare at myself in the mirror, not even recognizing the charming guy with the perfect life everyone thinks I am, or was. Certainly right now the news about my allegued attempt of suicide have already traveled around school to the speed of Haymitch Abernathy, the school's counselour, gets drunk. Also, I'm pretty sure my father moved a few strings around with the school's principal, using the sad-little-depressed-boy-asking-for-attetion strategy to get my attendence clear, while I've been gone to the nut house. Most likely, I'll be alloud to do the English Literature exam that I missed.

Anyway, I look like horse shit. My hair is all greasy andd truthfullym I don't remember showering for the two whole weeks I spent in that damn mental health facility, my skin looks sickly pale, since I lost the tan I had aquired from living in Orlando for 5 years, and my eyes have dark shadown under them. I also notice that I'm thinner than I was before I got hospitalize, due to the fact that I spent most of my days either sleeping or defying the psychiatrists and nurses that entered my hospital room, or cell, as I like to call it.

"Stupid Shakespeare." I grumble, blaming all that happened these past weeks on him and that stupid Hamlet, going around saying shit to a skull.

I enter the shower, hoping that the greasiness and the events from the previous weeks will wash away. I probably should've showered when I arrived last night butI was still a little dazed from the drugs they'd given me in the psych ward so a threw myself in bed, falling asleep almost immediatly. And, if it wasn't for Effie, the housekeeper, to knock on my door in the morning claiming today was a 'big, big, big day' I doubt I would've waken up in time for the first period in school.
Yes, today I'll be back to school, oh joy! I can't wait for everyone in school to stare at me in disbelief and think of me as a freak! Hopefully, the bomb of my attempted suicide will have died down by now.

After I had passed out the night of my anger attack (that's how I call it, I'm not depressed, and what I did was just a bunch miscalculated thoughts in the middle of the dawn, caused by the stress that Shakespeare inflicted on me) Effie found me and called the ambulance. One thing led to another and I ended up in the psych ward of Orlando Regional Medical Center, deemed as mentally unstable. At first, I was supposed to be in that infernal place only for two days or somethinglike that, but I had one of mine well known anger fits after I got frustrated over the fact everyone was treating me like I was wonded. I lashed out on the doctor and my stepmother that were in the bedroom with me that time (I'm pretty sure I would've also yelled at my father if he was even in the city) and I believe everyone thought I was crazy. I'm sure I did look pretty crazy when that happened. But still, I was just upset, it's not like I was going to attack anyone. And that's all it took for the doctor to sedate me and for my father to finally decide to lift his fatass from the cushy chair in his office in Atlanta and catch a plain to visit me.

I don't remember very well what happened afterwards, the memories from the first few days there are pretty foggy and I know, for a fact, that my father didn't stay for long. But I do remember waking up and him being sat at my bedside. I now realize that he was most likely worried about me (either for my own health or simply because an unbalanced son wouldn't do very good to his prestine reputation) but then I couldn't stop myself from telling him a few snarky remarks. 'Look who decided to pay a visit to his less valueble son' I had said to him.

I get out of the shower and dry myself with a towel, dressing the school uniform afterwards. I don't bother staring at the mirror another time, I'm pretty sure I still look like crap. I pick up my backpack and trudge down the stairs, where Effie is sat eating her fat free breakfast while complaining to Sae, our cook.

"Hey." I say flatly walking through the kitchen and opening the fridge, searching for something fast to eat.

"Good morning, Peeta. How was your night?" Effie asks, with her high pitched voice and weird french accent. One thing about Effie is that she is obsessed with manners and keeps scolding me for behaving unproperly in every occasions, something that I'm already used to. But I remember when I moved here she used to drive me nuts, I'd literally cover my ears and sing loudly so that I wouldn't have to listen to her. Obviously, that was something stupid to do, because Effie would get even madder when I did that.