When Ms Hot Topic Fell For Mr Hollister

let me know what your thoughts are ppl. I spent some time thinking this story over until finally i manged a great storyline.

Cliche lovers, this is for you so you're welcome!!

xox Gem. 

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CHAPTER ONE: I DO NOT LIKE MR. HOLLISTER, NOT ONE BIT

MS. HOT TOPIC:

My feet carry me in the humongous building. I'm walking to my designated location, my pinkish blonde hair in a messy ponytail, the chains on my dark

skinny jeans jingling, my high top Converse softly hitting the floor.

I don't bother replying to the receptionist who has juts greeted me. She's seen me plenty of times.

We've talked but still, I've never caught on to anything we discuss about or much less bother to remember her name.

Even though she wears a name tag.

I don't really bother to remember much these days.

My grades are pretty bad, I barely speak to anyone, my Dad thinks I'm losing my mind.

But you would be to if the same shit happened to you.

Thats why he sends me here.

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"To get the help that you need AJ." He told me.

"Daddy," I whined. "I'm fine! I don't need to see a shrink, it's bad enough everyone thinks I'm psycho."

"I'm doing this for you AJ." He calmly replied. "I can't stand to see you this way. You will go to her twice every week so she can help you."

I'll heal on my own, I miserably thought as I sighed.  

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No point arguing with Daddy.

He's a calm guy but he's stern and what he says goes.

Daddy's the coach for our school's football team.

He's experienced at giving orders.

I never thought I'd actually be one of those kids who had to see a shrink.

I know she's supposed to be helping me, but I feel crazy every time I walk through the doors of Laguna Coast Psychiatric Help.

Mrs. Peace has already informed me that I am quote "depressed and traumatized from what has occurred".

Stupid bitch thinks she knows it all.

She prescribed antidepressants for me. Dad bought them but there's no way in hell I'll ever take them.

Every morning before any of my siblings are awake, I make my way to the medicine cabinet.

I remove the two white bottles containing Fluoxetine and Citalopram, walk to the bathroom, remove at least four from each bottle and flush them down the

toilet.

That way Daddy thinks I'm taking them since he can't afford to waste money these days.

Money's tight in our family but still...antidepressants are for crazies.