Lila

The car glides to a stop in the student drop-off lane. Mama Voss doesn’t even glance at Lila, her focus entirely on her own reflection. “Remember what I said, sweetie,” she chirps, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Head straight to first period. No talking to anyone. No detours. No anything. Just class. And study during lunch. Got it?”

Lila’s jaw clicks shut. “Yes, Mama. I'll do that.” Her voice is flat, devoid of any inflection. Ugh, listen to me! I sound like a damn android! This drug is turning me into a fucking robot and she’s all "sweetie" like I'm not completely trapped inside my own body. FUCK!

The car door clicks open and Lila mechanically unfolds her legs, swinging them out of the vehicle. She rises to her feet, standing stiffly beside the car. I want to sprint across the parking lot, I want to cartwheel into a dumpster, I want to do anything but this shit. The air smells like exhaust fumes and stale coffee. She starts walking stiffly towards the school entrance, her gaze fixed on the polished linoleum floor inside.

Lila's body remains slumped at a cafeteria table, textbook open but unread before her blank staring eyes. Around her, the bustle of lunch hour fills the room - the clatter of trays, bursts of teenage chatter, the occasional shriek of laughter. But Lila neither sees nor hears any of it, locked in the robotic trance of XytraVibe.

The other students cast hungry looks her way as they file past, some whispering to each other and snickering. Lila makes a tempting target, alone and defenseless. A few even slow their steps, eyeing her like wolves circling a lamb. The boys openly ogled her body, no doubt fantasizing about taking advantage of her helpless state. The girls shot each other knowing looks, likely plotting how to use Lila as their own personal toy.

Ugh, can't these vultures take their creepy staring elsewhere? Lila's trapped mind rants internally, watching helplessly through her body's frozen gaze.

Seriously, what are these little shits playing at? Her mental fingers itch to make a shooing gesture, to tell them to buzz off. But her body just sits there like a doll, obediently out to lunch.

No! My hands won't listen! I'm trying to stop, but my stupid fingers just keep scribbling equations like a fucking windup toy. Lila sits perfectly still at the kitchen table, shoulders hunched over a textbook as her hand moves in precise, sterile motions to write out math problems. Her eyes are vacant and her expression is blank.

Her father enters and rests a hand on her shoulder. "See how much more productive you are on XytraVibe, Lila? Just think how well you'll do on your final exams."

"Yes," Lila answers flatly. Her hand never stops writing as she turns to him with an emotionless smile. "XytraVibe makes me study very well." Oh shut the fuck up, you arrogant prick! I'm not studying for your goddamn exams. This drug is making my body write out problems but I'm still screaming NO on the inside. Fuck you, fuck your expectations, and fuck this awful drug!

Lila's father beams at her response. He squeezes her shoulder approvingly before returning to his office, leaving her alone to "study." Her body obediently keeps working as her mind fumes.

"Happy birthday Lila," her parents say in unison, a forced cheeriness in their voices. They stand behind the dining table, already set with an elaborately decorated cake, gifts wrapped in pristine paper, and a card signed "Mom & Dad."

Lila stares at them, her expression vacant and complacent, a shell of the vibrant girl she used to be. "Thank you," her body responds in a flat tone, its words and mannerisms a hollow mimicry of gratitude.

Inside, her mind seethes with rage. Happy fucking birthday, Lila. What a joke. 18 and drugged into a braindead puppet, all so your precious parents can have a compliant robot daughter. I hope that cake chokes them.

She sits stiffly at the table as they begin singing the birthday song, her lips curving into an empty smile at the appropriate times. Sing it up, you narcissistic assholes. Pretending to be loving parents for a day won't erase how you ruined my life.

Her eyes gloss over the gifts as she opens them - expensive clothes, books, and electronics. None of them hold any interest for her. More stuff to show off your status. As if I give a shit about a new laptop when you've stolen my personality.

As they watch her blow out the candles, Lila feels a flicker of satisfaction. Make a wish, they say. Well, fuck you very much. I'm wishing for a way to make you suffer for this. "Alright, well, I'm going to start studying for exams," her medicated body declares, rising from the table. Studying, because that's the only purpose they allow me to have anymore. Fuck this shit.

She starts walking towards the study, each step mechanical and obedient when suddenly, the doorbell rings. Lila pauses, waiting for instruction. Probably some boring neighbor or distant relative. Just what I need on my godforsaken birthday.

"Lila! We need to get you focused for the exam next week. It's time for your medicine, sweetheart." Her father's voice cuts through the haze in her brain.

NO NO NO NO! Anything but that! Lila's inner voice screams as her body mechanically extends an arm. This is how it happens every time - a few kind words and a promise of success, then the living death of the XytraVibe. But her mouth merely responds, "Okay." as a small pill drops onto her tongue.

It's like watching a horror movie - she knows the jump scare is coming but is frozen, able only to witness her own violation. As the drug takes hold, her body slumps into stillness, gaze vacant, waiting for a command.

Ugh, another day wasted while my mind screams itself hoarse in this prison of a body! I swear to god, the moment I get myself off this fucking drug, I'm going to kill my parents for this. I'm going to fucking dismember them with a rusty spoon and mail the pieces to their country club.

Lila's body stands still, her expressionless gaze fixed on a point in the distance as her mind rages internally. A few curious glances are shot her way by passersby, but most people simply brush by without a second thought.

"Ahhhh, freedom!" Lila exclaims, throwing her arms wide. "No more stupid drugs, no more dumb tests, just me and the wide world!" Her voice echoes with enthusiasm, drawing curious glances from passersby. She zips down the bustling city sidewalk, her pink hair whipping behind her in the breeze. Her body can't stay still - she skips, she bounces, she twirls, all while navigating the crowded urban landscape.

"Wow, just look at this graffiti! It's so totally rad!" Ooh, the colors! The way it moves! I wonder what kind of paint they used? Lila crouches down for a closer look at the vibrant street art adorning a brick wall. This is SO much better than being trapped in that drugged-out zombie state. A shiver runs through her at the thought of how docile and suggestible she was. How she just sat and studied and obeyed orders, a blank-faced robot.

Lila pops up from her crouch and continues bounding along, her mind already moving on to the next bright and shiny thing that catches her eye. "I am NEVER taking that XytraVibe crap again," she mutters, kicking a empty soda can as she passes. "No way, no how. I'm gonna tell Mom and Dad that they can take their stupid pills and shove 'em where the sun don't shine!"