Hungering for Perfection:

A Franziska von Karma Story

By: KitKat411

For me, Franziska is one of the most interesting people in the story. (Actually, my friends who have played this game constantly tell me that I act like Franziska, so that is another motive for me to like and write about her.)
This is somewhat of a personal story, but not completely. (Obviously, as I do not personally know Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright, Maya Fey, etc…) I'm not fishing for compliments here, but any would be appreciated. Criticisms and critiques are also welcomed, but nothing like, "You faker! You know nothing about eating disorders! Why the hell are you writing a story about them?!?!?"

Oh, if you couldn't tell by the title, yes, this story has eating disordered themes. Like I said, though, it's somewhat of a personal story, so I do know what Franziska goes through.

I'm not promoting eating disorders, so if you want a "pro-ana/mia" site, look elsewhere. Rather, I just decided to let my feelings go. It has been a year since I entered counselling, and I've made (if I do say so myself) remarkable progress. I just wanted to let all my feelings go into this story, so I wasn't the only one feeling them anymore. (Sorry Franziska.) So much of my eating disorder was based on the feeling of "loneliness," and I didn't want to be alone with my feelings anymore.

So here they are.

Read away.

Sorry that this "Author Note" is so long.

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Franziska von Karma drummed her fingers against the plastic table in front of her, irritated. The flight from Germany to America had not been kind thus far, and Franziska doubted it would change anytime soon.

BANG.

Franziska's eyes widened, her back throbbing in pain. Oh yes, how had she forgotten the spastic three-year-old with the kicking issues? Franziska ran her fingers over her whip longingly, but restrained herself. Some entertainment would have to be saved for later in the flight, after all.

At that instant, a woman dressed in an old, worn out uniform appeared at her side. "Hello, little girl!" The perky woman said. "Would you like to see the kid's menu?"

Franziska shot her a withering look. Franziska's face had been plastered across international news ever since that last case concluded. Could this woman really not know who she was?

"I am Franziska von Karma!" She announced loudly to the woman, who jumped slightly in fright. "I have been a prosecuting attorney for five years, ever since passing the bar exam at thirteen! I am perfect, you fool! I am eighteen-and-a-half years old! Why would I need a children's menu?!?"

The woman recoiled slightly, exactly the result Franziska wanted. "Now, fool!" She exclaimed. "Bring me wine!"

The woman glared at Franziska for a moment, and then disappeared. She reappeared a few moments later, brandishing a glass of chardonnay. She dropped it rudely on the plastic table and left, muttering to herself about spoiled children.

Franziska scowled, and stared at the chardonnay. It stared back, mocking her for being two-and-a-half years younger then the so-called "American drinking age." She had been drinking wine with dinner for five years ago, ever since she passed the bar exam.

Franziska sipped the wine slowly, letting the chardonnay slide through her mouth before swallowing. She made a face, and put the wine down. That was the most foolishly foolish thing that had ever crawled down her throat.
CRACK!

The stewardess limped over, massaging her leg where Franziska's whip had struck it. "What the hell are you playing at?!?!?!?!" She screeched, causing the other first-class passengers to stare in surprise.

"Fool." The word slipped out of Franziska's mouth like a venomous snake. "Get. That. Thing. Off. My. Table.

Now."

The stewardess removed the offending beverage, and Franziska's eyes closed. It was a long flight to America, and she deserved a little nap.

Franziska's Dream

(A/N: I don't know if I'm supposed to write "Franziska's Dream," "Franziska's Flashback," etc., but I do. Go with it.)

Franziska entered her father's study, a room largely unfamiliar to her. She was only summoned her if she were in trouble, which never happened. The other hours of the day were spent either studying in the library or sleeping in her bed.

Study. Sleep. Repeat. That had been her life for more years then she could remember. It had been drilled into her head that she was to be perfect, that a von Karma was always perfect.

So now she stood in front of her father's desk, holding the open envelope that showed her perfection.

"Father," she said, losing her commanding tone for a more respectful one. "My bar exam results are in."

Manfred von Karma looked up, staring at her with his piercing eyes. "And? How did you do?"

She looked down. "Well, Father."

"Perfectly?"

"No, Father. But I passed. The exam was rather difficult, much more so then I expected."

"So you are average, Franziska." His quiet voice was deadly and cold, and Franziska desperately wished for her father to yell at her. If he did, she could at least be angry at him. Now, however, all she felt was a wave of shame.

"Average, Franziska. All that time spent studying, and you are not perfect. You are not a prodigy, Franziska. No different then any other lawyer in the room. You aren't special, or perfect, or a phenomenon. Average, nothing more. You do not deserve to be a von Karma." He looked down and shuffled papers around on his desk.

"Now get out."

Franziska left, not letting her father see the lone tear fall down her face. Even after all the physical slaps Manfred von Karma doled out, his words always left the biggest scar.

"You are average, Franziska. Nothing more." His words still echoed in her head.

Without meaning to, Franziska found herself in front of the library. Even though she was exhausted, Franziska made herself enter, pull out a book, and study. Biting back tears, she began to take notes, carefully copying out page after page of text.

"I will be perfect."

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Ok, sorry I haven't written anything about her eating disorder yet. Sorry this chapter is so short. I have it written here in my notebook, but for some reason, I can't bring myself to "publish" it. Maybe the memories are still too raw. Maybe I'm just too tired.

Should I continue? I can…if you want to read it. Review, and tell me.