{when the morning comes} Sapphire's death.

A little girl with big blue eyes, about nine years old, sat at a long dining room table made of polished cherrywood, scribbling intently on a white sheet of drawing paper with other pieces - presumably failures - crumpled up all around her working space. Her elementary school was holding a drawing contest - the prompt was to "Draw a scene from the Hunger Games!" The girl knew that most students participating would be drawing events that took place in the actual arena. But she didn't like those; they were too bloody, too scary. So instead, she had decided to draw a person that had always fascinated her: Ceasar Flickerman, the one who interviewed all the tributes before the Games.

She carefully sketched out his face, with his big, animated eyes and his full lips, deciding to hue them a pretty lavender color this year. His hair took on the same shade, but she stayed true to the powder blue suit that he wore every single year. Try and try again, though, she just couldn't seem to get it all just perfect, and she worked well into the night, far past the bedtime of a typical nine-year-old, until she decided that it was acceptable. Just by examining it, anyone could tell that it soared above the typical drawing abilities of someone her age. With newfound confidence, the little girl dutifully cleaned up her workspace, tucked herself into bed, and went to sleep with a smile on her face.

Before school the next day, she compared her drawing with her older sister's, who had decided to enter the contest as well. The eleven-year-old redhead had no particular affinity for drawing, but she did love contests, and she wasn't about to let her little sister one-up her on anything. So she'd spent about a half hour the previous night quickly drawing and coloring a cornucopia, with weapon-equipped tributes standing around it. It was mediocre, drawn with strokes nowhere near as meticulous and careful as her smaller sibling's had been. But the little girl smiled and told her sister it was very nice, all the while so sure that she would finally beat her at something.

The drawings were handed in as soon as they arrived at school, to be judged by the end of the day. The little girl squirmed in her seat all day, paying much less attention in class than she usually did. Finally the time came. The loudspeaker clicked on, and she knew that in a moment, the principal's voice would sound throughout the entire school, announcing her name as winner. Oh, she could hardly wait!

"And the winner is...Topaz Ross, from Mrs. Atkinson's class!"

time is so short and i'm sure
there must be something more

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She had been doing well. Her, Sapphire Ross, had actually been showing some competency with a weapon - albeit an unimpressive weapon, just a small knife, but a weapon nonetheless. It was actually easier than she had expected; if she didn't think too hard about the fact that she was cutting down innocent human beings's lives, she could actually manage to jab a knife in someone's direction with relative ease. It was so different from anything else Sapphire had ever done; for success at killing, she had to not think, rather than exercise her mind to the highest degree in order to accomplish anything. She wasn't sure how much she liked this, but it was unavoidable.

And then...it had happened so fast. She'd lashed out at her district partner - a big, hulking Career named Michael whom she'd hardly even spoken to since the Reaping - and had hardly even scratched him, just a shallow cut on his calf. It was only a means of self defense that she'd targeted him, anyway; she was knifing anyone that moved, anyone that came near her, anyone that wasn't obviously Charas or Sawyer, her allies. She hadn't been trying to do any damage, just to defend herself so she could maybe pick up a couple of items that could sustain her for a bit in the Games. And then suddenly he'd...gone crazy, or something, and she'd found herself falling to the ground, a giant cleaver sticking out of her eye socket.

The pain was excruciating; no one had managed to touch her in the Bloodbath until now, so she hadn't been faced with even a hint of discomfort. Now...now there was this...this thing that had propelled straight through her left eye. It had probably even hit her brain, because she could feel herself shutting down, losing consciousness quickly. The District One female was done for, and she knew it. She couldn't see, couldn't move, could hardly breathe. She could barely even think.

It was the morning of September the second, and as an alarm clock rang, a young adolescent girl with chocolate hair jumped out of bed, a bright smile plastered across her face. Today was her birthday - her thirteenth, to be exact. She was finally a teenager today! Her parents had promised her they wouldn't throw her a huge party like they'd done for her older sister - the girl shuddered inwardly, remembering - because she didn't want one. She would much rather have a small gathering of family, and maybe a couple of neighbors they were close to. So that was what they would have.

The now thirteen-year-old was jittery with excitement all day, waiting for her guests to arrive. She'd even allowed her incredibly fashion-conscious sister to dress her, something she never ever did; thankfully it was nothing outrageous, just a pretty pale blue skirt and a white blouse. They didn't get to see their family often, considering their parents were always too busy working to have company over; but today her grandparents were coming, along with her father's sister, her husband, and her little daughter. They would eat a nice dinner prepared by the family's hired chef - he was already in the kitchen working - and then have cake. Since she rarely had birthday parties, she could absolutely not wait.

She hoped she'd get presents; maybe a few new books, because she loved to read. Her grandmother often gave her pretty pieces of jewelry; not big and flashy, like the kind her sister liked, but small and delicate. One year she'd even given her a beautiful owl brooch - "it's a wise owl, just like you, Sapphire!" - and she kept it treasured in a special place in her jewelry box. She couldn't wait to see what she gave her this year - but more importantly, she couldn't wait to see her grandmother, who was perhaps her very favorite family member. She always paid attention to her, even when everyone else didn't.

Three o'clock came, and the birthday girl ran to the window as the familiar car that belonged to her grandparents pulled up to the curb. As her grandmother got out, she could see that she carried a long, thin box in her hand that could easily carry a piece of jewelry. Bouncing up and down with excitement, she yanked open the door and opened her arms to receive the embrace that her grandmother would surely give her. But they remained empty; instead, the girl turned her head and watched as she ran toward her older sister, who was standing in the foyer a bit behind her, and pulled her into a hug. "Oh, Topaz, we heard you scored top marks on your latest training assessment! We couldn't be prouder! Look, I've even brought you a congratulatory gift."

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Well, now she'd really done it. A two in training was one thing, but dying in the Bloodbath, hardly even ten minutes into the Hunger Games? This was a new level of failure. District One never did this bad. Of course, maybe the awful brute of a male tribute would go on to make it far for One, and completely disgrace what it meant to be human, while he was at it. Good. Saph hoped he was happy with himself. Hoped he was proud. He'd killed his district partner, a weak, small little girl about half his size and a third of his weight, with hardly any strength whatsoever. What an accomplishment.

Why did any of this have to happen? It still seemed like a dream, a surreal, horrifying nightmare. Surely if she opened her eyes she'd wake up back in her bed at home, and be able to lift her head up and peer out the window that overlooked District One's lavish Victor's Village. She could go downstairs, brew a cup of coffee, and retreat into the library for the rest of the day, to read any book she could get her hands on and forget the rest of the world. When the day was done, she could go upstairs, shower, and tuck herself into bed. Dream happy dreams, wake up, and repeat. But, seeing as there was a knife sticking out of one eye, she couldn't open them. They were sealed shut to the rest of the world forever.

If anything, Sapphire simply wished that she could apologize to her allies for being so incompetent. They'd been kind enough to team up with her, when she would've been absolute toast without them, and she'd repaid them with this? With dying before she'd even gotten a chance to hold up her end of the bargain? I'm sorry, Charas. Sawyer. I'm an awful ally, aren't I? Actually, I'm a disappointment in general, right? Everyone says that. She wished she could apologize to Topaz, as well. Topaz, her sister, who had gotten up in the dead of night to come and give her best shot at making amends with her, a completely uncharacteristic attempt. Sorry I screwed up, Tope. I usually do, don't I? But there was no way to apologize, and even if she were capable of speech at the moment, she didn't even know how she would put it into words.

time is so short and i'm sure
there must be something more

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It had been perhaps the worst two weeks of Sapphire's life. Every day, she'd been forced to turn on the television and watch as her only sister played the Hunger Games, killing, maiming, massacring other tributes with hideous weapons as she grew closer and closer to the win she so longed for. Saph had been worried every single second, though, that she wouldn't make it. That someone would come and kill her instead, and that was it. No more Topaz, no more sister. But that unthinkable horror hadn't happened. Topaz had won, and she was due to return home that day.

Sapphire stood on the train platform with her parents, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the victor of the 56th Hunger Games. Mr. and Mrs. Ross were beside themselves with pride; they'd actually taken time off of work to view the Games, watching every single fight that Topaz partook in with people over - the neighbors, maybe, or prestigious friends from work - so that they could brag about how capable and strong their daughter was, and then take all the credit for it. Sometimes Sapphire was forced to partake in such gatherings, but most of the time she was simply ignored and left to her own devices.

The high-speed tribute train pulled up to the station at about noon, and Sapphire was suddenly apprehensive. What would she say to her sister, after all this had happened? After she'd watched her fall in love with another girl on live television, when she hadn't thought Topaz was actually capable of anything more than lust at all? In truth, Sapphire was a bit resentful towards Nash Harvey, for changing her sister in so drastic a way. Now the Topaz she'd known and loved would be gone, she knew it, replaced by someone who was the shell of her former self, even though ever since the Games had ended she had watched as she put on a smile for the cameras. But Saph knew her sister better than that.

A door slid open, and a camera crew came out and positioned themselves alongside the platform, ready to capture the moment that the latest Hunger Games victor stepped out of the train, back home for the first time. Sapphire caught only a flash of red hair and the click of high heels before Mrs. Ross flung herself onto Topaz, and she and her husband began to fawn over their prized champion of a daughter, exclaiming that they just

knew she would win, that she'd made the family proud, that she was the best daughter they could ever ask for. And Sapphire stood off to the side, entirely forgotten.[/blockquote]

you thought you might be a ghost
you didn't get to heaven but you made it close

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Her life had been utterly mediocre. Sapphire Ross wasn't anything special, not at all; her name meant nothing to anyone, and no one knew her - they only paid any attention to her at all because she was the sibling of a victor. It was awful, being that; everyone had such high expectations for her, because of everything Topaz had done, and no matter how hard she tried, Saph was always subpar. No matter how hard she tried, she was always overshadowed by her big sister. Wasn't that the way it always had been? Tope was effortlessly better than her, even when she put all the effort she possibly could into something in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, it would be her time to shine. But it never had been. And now it never would be.

Lying sprawled in the snow, bundled up in the winter gear she'd been equipped with before entering the arena, the District One tribute knew her time was drawing to a close. The pain was ebbing, and she was beginning to feel absolutely nothing at all; it was like she wasn't even there. This was probably better for everyone, wasn't it? Now that she would be gone, no one would have to pretend to pay her any regard. Her parents wouldn't have to pretend that they cared for each of their daughters equally, and Topaz wouldn't have to make believe that she wasn't ashamed of her loser of a sister. The disappointing younger Ross sibling, that was what she was and what she always had been. The other body she'd seen lying on the floor just before Mike got her, the boy she'd helped to kill, proved that she hadn't even been impressive enough to die first; everyone always remembered the first death of the Games. But the second? It meant nothing. It was an entirely unexceptional number. As Sapphire Ross breathed her final breaths, she could think only of how no matter what she did, she was always second best.

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