our little talks {anzie}

There's a little hand in mine that I'll never let go of. I wish we weren't walking through the streets on the way to school like our routine predicts. Instead I could take her away to our own little world where our Mother couldn't touch us and everything was how I wish it could be. But unfortunately I've come to the realisation that life isn't what you dream up, it's what is handed to you by fate. I can try to keep the person that this little hand belongs to safe from my Mom, from bullies, from Peacekeepers and strangers - but I can't keep her safe from fate if I don't know what it's made up of. Regardless, I'll die trying.

She smiles as we wander through the streets, babbling on about books and teachers. Her presence is enthralling and I wonder how she stays so positive amongst everything we've been through. Perhaps she doesn't realise how awful things are, how unfair it is that she has to be ripped away from Dad and I every other weekend. Perhaps I'm the only one who really has it bad, that she's far too good a person compared to me to see darkness in the things around her. The way her eyes sparkle underneath her glasses suggest she only sees light, and in return the light shines on her instead of me. And least in my life, it never leaves her happy little body whom I love with all my heart.

Munching on our favourite candy bought at a District Square stall, my feet ache from the walk I've endured (it takes twice as long to walk her to school from Dad's house than Mom's, but I don't care. Blisters and aching bones might be the price I pay to keep my promises, but every single second I have with her is worth it) she hums along to a tune playing in her own little world. Questions bubble out of her with wide-eyes and fall onto me to answer them, such as "Do you think the candy tastes as good in other Districts?" and "Why does it take forever for teachers to mark our homework?" I laugh and reply with "Of course not, nobody makes candy quite like Mr. Hoover" and "Because if it takes you an hour to do your homework, times that by all the kids in your class. That's how long it takes to look over them all." (She's smart enough to work it out, understanding dawning on her face in-between blinks.) I yearn for times when her company wasn't restricted to morning walks, but there's no use in yearning for the past when I've got no way of going back. I can only decide to use my energy to shape my future for her and make sure that her fate won't be as awful as mine.

A sense of dread lingers in the pit of my stomach as we approach the school yard (not as awful as the walk back home but it's close enough). The run-down building looks dismal compared to the hospital centres and treatment facilities, and next to pictures of the Capitol in glossy magazines it's an abandoned product of childs-play - but Ludo likes school and I'd rather she spent her time here than with my Mom. Patting her head and stretching my arms out for a hug, she falls into me and I cling tightly to her, heartbeat chugging through our clothing that I've sworn to keep beating as long as I'm alive.

"You have fun, ok Lucy-Lou? I'll come pick you up as always," I say, farewelling her with a smile. "Stay out of trouble." Smiling up at me with a gap-toothed grin (her last remaining baby teeth are tumbling from her mouth and remind me that she's growing up far too fast for my liking) and replies "I'm never in trouble, Tam. I've got you."

And she skips off to greet her friends, backpack and all. (She is safe here, I think to myself as I make the painstakingly difficult movement of turning away. You'd think after 6 years it would get easier, but every morning it hurts just the same.) My tongue still tastes of grape (her favourite) and lime (my favourite) and that makes walking away a little easier. Step by step, I ease back into the rhythm of District Six and its hustle and bustle of main streets. With every foot against the pavement the drumming inside of me settles. She is safe. She is safe.

Caught up in my own securities and selfish paranoia (it's not that I don't trust the school, it's that I don't trust myself to keep my promise of protecting her - but then again, I'm never satisfied enough with myself) I end up walking into a complete stranger. A muffled "Shit!" escapes my lips before I can force it back down my throat and I blink rapidly, the world cascading by in snapshots and the stranger's face hidden beneath my shock.

"Crap, sorry - I didn't see you, sorry, sorry-" I stammer, finally focusing in on the stranger's face. "Are you alright?"