So this would be like a prologue basically for a story, should the story get anything from it. Let me know, it was originaly for my Psych class, just an odd bit assignment. I hope you guys like it.
"Hi, my name is Morrigan Lee and I'm a Deviant."
Degradation Ceremony: the process of labeling someone as Deviant.
"Hi, Morrigan Lee"
"Very nice Morrigan, please have a seat."
Avian Hall: my Purgatory on earth.
According to the "Labeling Theory", all people commit deviant acts…they just don't all get caught. Not that I would consider anything I've ever done as deviant. I don't grumble when my step-mother looks down her nose at me like I'm lower than low, when my father says, "Morrigan, please don't trouble Sandra, you know how upset she gets when your troublesome…" do I say or do anything in retaliation? No, I say, "Of course, Father, I'll do my best." and watch him as he walks out the door. I don't do drugs, I don't steal, or light things on fire. I'm one-hundred percent sure I haven't raped, killed, pillaged or plundered in all of my 17 years, but tell that to my mother, she currently resides half way up the 3rd street of the Oakville mausoleum, two turns down the left, the one with the black and white marble top doormat.
That's why I'm here of course, in Avian hall, a 'rehabilitation center'; in other words, a prison with invisible bars, to reform teen deviants. Because I was caught climbing in my window twenty minutes after several houses were robbed and seven acres burned down to the ground. It just so happens that I know half the people living in the area, and I happened to have been spending the time with those I knew. Never mind the fact that my step mother was no where to be seen for at least two hours after the incident. No, and don't worry, doctors only say she's legally registered as a pyromaniac, and please they only pretend she's a pathological liar. So, really, why wouldn't I naturally be the one who must have done it? Perhaps the new wardrobe that seems just a tad too big for her is just a bad shopping spree on QVC gone wrong, of course, her getting these things weeks after the robberies started is only a tragic coincidence. No way, couldn't be her. Just blame the red headed step child that everyone can only tell you've never seemed to care about. Two more years of 'rehab' and I should be good as new. An American Samaritan worthy of mingling with society's law abiding citizens.