maelle perdue, district three | finished

I have dreamed a thousand different dreams.

Once upon a time, I was a princess, fair and true. In my castle I would sit, staring out from my balcony with waves of gold cascading down my shoulders. A frail hand outstretched, I would beacon a young prince to stand in my presence. He'd call for me, waving with a smile laced in a delicate amount of sensuality, and I would find a blush upon my cheeks. I'd turn from him, dress  billowing in the breeze. With arms spread wide, I'd damn the consequences of living, and with an inhale, I'd let myself fall from my balcony. In the arms of he who'd love me forever, I would forever remain.

Once upon a time, I was a faerie, fragile and just. In my forest I would flutter, painting my lips with the ripest of berries. Wide, blue eyes would blink sheepishly at the sky, fickle fingers touching the clouds and swirling them into a masterpiece of euphoria. A hunter would watch me in the distance, weapon in his hand and his eyes narrowed. He'd steady his aim, but with a turn and a blink of my eyes, he'd find himself ensnared. He'd drop his duties and take me in his arms, his lips finding mind within an explosion of forbidden ecstasy.

Once upon a reality, I was a liar, and this is all but true. I'd dream of castles and forests, men who'd love me, only to awake with nothing but the bitter truth resting against my lips. I was not a wanted fair maiden, no. There was nary a man who longed for me, and never once did I feel as beautiful as I did once, once upon a dream. I was just a girl; I was girl locked in a tower, yet never once rescued. 

My first memories came from within the orphanage of Three, children heckling both me and my clumsy feet. They'd cackle as I tripped, the officials too busy with their little lives to defend me. I'd run to my room and cry, too weak and too pathetic to ever act out in rebellion. Still, in my pained state, I would draw magnificent pictures. I'd draw the delicately curved bows and sharpened arrows from my dreams, closing my eyes and imagining the pointed beauties piercing the hearts of all who neglected me.

Once upon a day in agony, where I doodled in a corner, a man noticed my work and, with a devilish smile, remarked:

"Sweet child, did you make these?" 

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. Are they in your way?"

"Paper? In my way? Oh, sweet girl, calm your little heart."

"Sorry."

"Shh, no need for apologizes. Child, these drawings, they're-..."

"Awful? Sor-... Um, forgive me. All the other kids make fun of 'em. I'll go to my room and leave you alone, if they bother you?"

"Awful? Bother me? Sweet girl, they're marvelous! You have a talent!"

"Really?"

"Yes! I could see these on the walls of all the best centers for training in each of the upper-districts!"

"You think so?"

"I know so. Sweet girl, can I ask something?"

"Anything, sir."

"Would you want a family?"

"You-... You'd want me?"

"You and your lovely little fingers, of course!"

"Oh, sir, I-..."

"You should go pack your bags, that's what."

I was whisked away in a day's notice, poisoned by dreams of finally having a family who'd appreciate me and a surname that actually held meaning. Even then, with a thousand attempts of pinching my flesh, it was all just a dream. The man hardly took the time to introduce me to my new family, and shoving me into a room, he told me to start drawing. "Have you talked to the officials, daddy? Do I get your surname?" I'd question with each drawing I'd pass over, but he'd just wave me off distantly as his greedy eyes consumed the drawings.

"Oh, no, not yet. It's of no matter, though. You don't need to have my name to be my daughter. Besides, Perdue suits you. Maelle Perdue, yes. Has a nice ring!"

"But, I-..."

"You should get started on another design, that's what."

In all sick truth, "father" was right. He'd rush into my room every now and again, smiling and shouting:

"The factory accepted your design! Your bows will be hanging on the walls of One and Two's finest centers in no time!"

"That's nice."

"Are you not happy?"

"Not as happy as you are."

I had a dream that I could be a girl that was beloved, and even upon becoming a top designer of weapons within my district, it seemed that no one knew my name. Locked away in my house, I was just "that adopted girl who spends her days drawing", and never once was I allowed to go out with my "family" to partake in things that normal families do. "You're too busy," my "father" would purr, dropping a plate on my bed, eyes gliding over my work. "Maybe next time."

I was a girl adopted, finally given a family, and yet I'd never felt more alone. With each waking moment, I found my imagination shifting the forms of the bullies from my childhood into the man that supposedly "saved" me. With each bow I crafted, with each arrow I drew to perfection, I dreamed of seeing it shatter his skull.

But, that was just what it was: a dream. I was not a girl beloved, nor a girl with a family who'd hold her close. I was not a princess, fair and secure. I was not a fairy, wanted and brave. I was just a girl, stuck in a world of a thousand dreams.

Once upon a dream, I dreamed of having a family. That was never to be true.

Once upon a dream, I dreamed of finally being brave. That was never to be true.

I was a weak, unloved girl, used in every meaning of the word. That, my friend, was true.