the {truth} never set me free :: emmy

i settled down
a twisted-up frown disguised as a smile
well, you would have never known
i had it all, but not what i wanted
'cause hope for me was a place uncharted and overgrown

My arms ache so badly that each impact of the blunted training sword against the dummy’s surface sends a jolt of pain all the way up to my shoulders, but I grit my teeth through the discomfort and swing again, half out of sheer stubbornness and half out of fear that anyone watching might think I’m weak. I am, a skinny girl with no muscle and no combat skill to speak of, but that’s not the point. The ones who are seen as weak are always the first to fall. I can’t be that girl, the one the hopped-up Careers look at like a particularly tasty dessert, the one everyone guns for in the Bloodbath because her lack of resolve has painted a target in blood-red ink on her back.

Fledger’s ghost is everywhere within the sterile white walls of the Training Center. Noah looked at me like I was insane when he walked into his room to find me curled up in the center of the bed, my hands clawing at the sheets and trying to dig through the souls of all the District Four males who had slumbered there until I found the only one I cared about. Everywhere I go is haunted by a question of Fledger’s presence – Did he sit in this chair? Did he eat at this table? Did he hold this sword? – and it threatens to drive me insane, all the old wounds of loss being ripped open again in tandem with the rage that is slowly eating away at my insides with every passing second under the scrutiny of the cameras and the Gamemaker’s smirks.

I’m so angry. It’s odd how I never seemed to notice it before, how it had gotten buried under the task of being a mother and struggling to get by. This trip to the Capitol has given me the chance to be the selfish child I’ve always been at my core, and with that chance has come a blooming flower of incandescent rage that licks along the linings of my veins like icy fire. It’s not fair, none of it is, and I’m not sure whether that silent scream will become my battle cry or my dying lament. The anger that spikes through me lends extra force to the next swing of my sword, and the impact sends such a painful shock up my arms that I cry out, my grip loosening and the blade falling to the ground with a loud clang. Cursing under my breath, I bend over to pick it up, the newfound urge to just hit something not content to be ignored. When I look back up, the girl from One is staring at me, eyes like a lioness and predatory grace in her movements. The girl from One cut Fledger’s arm off, I remember vaguely, and the fact immediately makes me go rigid, my spine straight and my eyes narrowing in her direction.

“What are you looking at?!” I snap defensively, refusing to show submission by averting my gaze. Keep right on prowling, Lioness. You won’t be snacking on this gazelle any time soon.

you'd make your way in
i resist you just like this
you can't tell me to feel
the truth never set me free
so i did it myself