drae roxen; district four; fin

You haven't ever really been much of yourself. You hated Mizar-or pretended to, because that was what was wanted of you, even though when you were alone you told her you didn't hate her at all. Muscinda's death wasn't a surprise to you. You had been waiting for someone to crack, considering your parents. Growing up with them was hellish, and you was a good son. You did what you was told, you were what they wanted, and he didn't care about any of it, really. You don't care about much of anything. You care about Luli. That's the exception that proves the rule, honestly. You dry her tears and hold her while she screams and the whole while, you hate, you hate because your parents are what did this to her and they can't even show the courtesy to mourn. And the model-son behavior is getting old. Very, very old. And fifteen year's worth of hate is just under the skin waiting to boil over and burn everything it touches. You isn't going to live with this much longer, and there are new children showing up at your doorstep, and if anyone is going to sever the final threads and tear this family apart it is going to be you and you alone. You don't care what it takes. You are going to get the final say in this.

Following someone's interests is easier than one would think. You listen, and you hear what they want, and you mold yourself into it. And suddenly everyone likes you, and everyone is happy for a little while. Except you. Never you.
And there's another thing about you: You was-here's how the doctors put it-"designated female at birth." That's something about yourself you are not willing to follow people's thoughts about, because Ripred damn you will lie every word out of your mouth but your body is your own. Your parents were more accepting than anyone expected. They were probably just glad to not have another daughter to deal with around. You're a pretty boy, that's for sure, but you are definitely, outspokenly male. People don't question it, which has you relieved. You're not sure if you could handle people saying to your parents "I thought you said you had a son?" Not that anyone much talks to your parents. Their communal hatred is infamous in the District, and everyone mostly just stays out of their way.
You're pretty, and strangely enough, you're comfortable that way.
You dye your hair. It's naturally dark, but you bleach it, and you dye it a light blue. Takes most of your money, but you don't really have much else you care enough to spend it on. And you're slight-decidedly not tall, not that you're the tiniest guy around, and naturally slender. You aren't as strong as most of the District, because you have never cared much about career training [what else is new?] and you have never had to work out on the docks or with the boats or whatever it is that the poor people do. Granted, your parents make you spend time at the training center, and you do, but you never do much there. You tell them what they want to hear. You don't think you're capable of saying anything else.

Lying is easy for you. Lying mends tears, puts everyone at ease even when they know that you aren't telling the truth. It's almost compulsive for you, now, from you listening to your parents scream at you and nodding along even though you couldn't disagree more because at least they're agreeing on something to when Luli dries her eyes and asks you if you're okay before another onset of tears and you tell her "I'm fine."

Luli is your sister.
She is one of the only things that matters to you-not matters like trying to keep your parents happy. She matters matters in a way not much else does to you, like keeping your body how you like it and letting lies flow like mercury down your tongue. It's a reassuring, almost constant flow at times, and you're scared it's going to pool in your mouth and collect toxic until you-
Luli matters.
She's a year older than you, but people don't guess it from the way you act. You're tinier than her, of course, but she's been so broken since Mizar's death that she seems like she's barely twelve. That's what you assume. You wouldn't know, yourself. She's fragile, like a broken china doll, and you are determined that your parents are going to pay for this. In your brain the chain of events is somehow connected-their hatred for Mizar led to her volunteering led to her death led to, well, this. And they are going to pay. If it was you, you would be fine. But Luli matters.

Mizar is your other sister. She was eighteen when she died-recently, actually. In the Games. She volunteered. Then she ruined any scrap of a chance she had with your parents by dying on the first day. Axe to the back of the head. You winced when you watched it happen on the screens, but it was nothing compared to Luli, who let out a deathly screech and buried her head in her hands. They were always closer to each other than you.
Now that Mizar's gone, Luli has attached herself to your side.

You used to have a third sister. Her name was Muscinda, but you called her Mus. She killed herself, see. She was your age. Fifteen. That was three years ago, now. Mizar never really got over it-they were twins. You can understand why she would be upset. You were only twelve, and you had never really talked to her much, despite her being your sister. It wasn't a surprise, though. You had known that one of you at least wouldn't make it out of this household alive or with your sanity intact. Funny how now two of your sisters are dead and the living one is insane.