sisters stay [strong] | {valencia/damea}

d a m e a vandel

i had a way then
losing it all on my own
i had a heart then
but the queen has
been overthrown

Quiet.

It used to be unheard of in this place, always overrun with broken teens like myself struggling to find a place in a world that had no place for us. Now, it seems it is the only thing that describes it. Empty halls echo with each step I take, careful to avoid turning left, even though it means a longer walk. I have moved on since my brother's death, I think, but I still hurt. Passing his room, getting my hopes up when I am convinced I see him laying on his bed shuffling a deck of cards with that mischievous grin plastered on his face through the corner of my eye is too much this early. "Early." It has been about a year now since he died. It feels like centuries when I think of how long it has been since I have heard his voice, but it still isn't quite enough time for me to completely fix the cracks in my heart.

I pass my room, and enter the next door, hoping to find Valencia inside, but it is empty. I purse my lips and head down to the kitchen, then the living room, and still cannot find her. I knock on the bathroom door, and there is no reply. Before too long, only one room is left, and my throat swells. (I can do this.) I tell myself, but I still stop when I see the door cracked open at the end of the hall. It takes every bit of courage I have, but I charge forward, and push the door open. The familiar scent of cinnamon hits me like a bag of bricks and I try my best to ignore the knot that grows bigger and bigger by the second in my throat, and the sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach, and focus all my attention on the girl perched at the foot of a bed covered in a red comforter, but I can't stop myself.

Nothing in here has changed. Across the room is the same bed Drace's his room mate, Dexter slept in, and the wall was still covered in pictures of everyone, he and I, Valencia, and Dexter, mostly, then there is the one I managed to salvage from the flames that claimed our parents above his bed. A delicately sweet woman with wiry hair and a man with a proud smile smile at the camera as if they didn't know they were doomed to an unhappy ending. It feels like everything is perfectly normal here, like he should be back any moment now to yell at me for sneaking into his room. But he won't. I had never noticed the light golden patterns on the scarlet walls until his demise, and I thought they were gorgeous once I did. They suited him well, I think.

Valencia is completely engrossed in the large book on her lap- a photo album, judging from the heavy pages she turns with haunted eyes. I take a sit next to her and wince. This was where we sat the morning he was reaped. The morning the capitol stole my best friend, my protector, my brother. He told me I was going to be okay, that the chances of me being reaped were a million to one. How could I have been so blind? Even moments before he was sent to his death he was more concerned with my worries than his own. Pathetic. The pictures on the current page are of all of us. Everyone that lived in the house, pulling each other out of the mud and watching as we all grew stronger standing side by side with painted grins and happy eyes.

Drace He is kissing Val on the cheek, and I can see the sea of emotions her eyes are swimming in as clearly as anything else in the room. Grief over his death, pity that he was lost, regret for all the lost years, shame for not doing some of the things she always wanted to- the sea Valencia is in is very, very similar to the one I am forever stranded in. "Hey, Val." I whisper, unsure if I can trust my voice to be any louder. "What's up?"