perdita leto, district four | finished

I've been drowning for the last eighteen years of my life —
even now, I still can't breathe.

---

I swear that my mother gave birth to me while wading in the ocean that surrounds our district, my infantile form welcomed only by saltwater in my lungs and the roar of storms in my ears. (The ocean was I, and I the ocean.) Mother told me throughout my childhood that I was a mermaid out of the lullabies that she sang to me each night before I slumbered, and hardly a day would go by without my toddling, childish legs dashing across the shoreline.

Father once said that by the time I could form coherent sentences, I was already trying to swim out to sea farther than most children twice my age would dare, and that he would always have to drag himself into the water to pull my reckless self back to land before I reached whatever destination I was heading for.

But, that was the catch: I had no destination.

When I swam, so far and so free, I had nowhere to go. Nowhere but a horizon touched only by the sun's delicate drapery of oranges and pinks, and as a young girl, the thought of the unknown was so beckoning to me. I was wild and I was brazen, my mother always scolding me for darting about our family's bakery, and my father always saying things such as: "I'm glad I decided to retire. The Peacekeepers of tomorrow are going to have their hands full with you, kiddo," or "Y'know, I always thought my child would want to follow in my footsteps and be a Peacekeeper, but you just keep proving me wrong."

Ironic, however —
it wasn't me who proved him wrong.

When my little sister was born, my father's world ignited with a light so warm, so bright, that I nearly lost my sight at the explosion of his smile. Calypso was my father's little princess, always by his side, always revelling in his stories of justice and formality that I never had time for. There were too many adventures to plan out, too many chests of treasure to seek, and too many miles of sea beyond what I could sea that my lungs craved to suffocate within. It was she who gained the attention of my parents, and honestly, I cared little. All I wanted in life was freedom, a chance to recklessly abandon all things sane and find clarity in the form of devastation that some called 'self-destruction.'

The first time I jumped from a cliff and into the water below, Calypso blackmailed me into finishing her art project in return for not telling our parents. A tight little smile, a: "That'll teach ya, Dita." The first time I finally swam past the borderline in the water, she forced me into doing a week of her homework in return for her not alerting the Peacekeepers. A frantic laugh, a: "Ripred, what's next? Going to actually try and kill yourself?" And the first time I stood up to her, calling her out for being a little brat of a tattletale? She used the early career training my father taught her and blacked my eye with her fist.

"I slipped and hit my face on a rock," I had lied upon our parents' questioning of my bruised skin. Calypso just smiled, feeling some certain form of proud. She was justice in human form, and I was rebellion. She was the little wannabe-Peacekeeper that father's dreams were made of, and I—

I was just me; nothing special, and I was fine with that.

Whilst my sister devoted herself to her training in the ways of Peacekeepers and being a career, I detached myself from my family. And in an attempt to escape the invasive claws of Calypso's wrath, I also detached myself from my adventures. I gave her nothing to blackmail me with, nothing to scold me over — nothing to make her question how long my lifespan would really be. When I visited the sea — when I did the things that made me feel alive and whole, I always did it alone.

Calypso was a girl who fed off of others, and I—

I thrived in isolation, all by myself, with no one else to chain me to the ideals of people who weren't me.

Though my reserved nature most likely played a part, throughout my life making friends was never a skill of mine. Calypso was the one who would always bring flocks of girls over — whether or not the friendship was mutual or if Calypso had blackmailed them into it was unknown, but my father and mother always praised their little social butterfly.

"How come you never bring anyone over, honey? Come on, you're a lovely girl. I'm sure you could make friends with ease if you just tried to put yourself out there," my mother would babble, combing through my straggly locks of brown. I never really answered my parents when they questioned my social life, preferring to just shrug and look down with a furrowing of my pronounced brows. I was as unreachable as the horizon I so desperately longed to touch, and though I loved my sister with every ounce of my heart, I always refused her offerings to play.

"C'mon, Peri! C'mon! We haven't played tag on the beach for weeks, maybe even months! Please?" or "Per? Why won't you hang out with me? We are sisters, y'know."

Caly survived off of crowds and approval, and like the storm I was, I thrived off of solitude and actions dedicated solely to my own being. She took it harder than I intended, however. I always shrugged her off, isolating myself. Once, she had followed me to the sea when I had slipped out of my window during the night, and instead of shouting out that she was going to tell, she jumped in. I was unaware of what she was planning, if she was trying to play or if she was trying to get close to me like we had been before her motives and ideals shifted. But I found myself laughing when she surfaced from her jump.

I was not surprised, not scared — I was genuinely amused.

She was sputtering, and she was screeching. I couldn't help the laughter that rolled off of my tongue, finding it hilarious that she couldn't even handle one of the shallowest pools of water. "Calypso can't swim! Calypso can't swim!" I found myself teasing in the moment, unaware of the severity of it all. Perhaps masked by my anger towards her always crippling my adventures, or perhaps a certain form of jealousy towards her being the perfect daughter that I never was, I was unaware of her ordeal; I was completely and utterly oblivious —
until she slipped under.

"Stop pretending," I had chuckled out, watching the bubbles that drifted up from where her head went under. My heartbeat rose slowly as the amount of bubbles quickly dwindled into nothing — nothing but a watery surface, my sister's form gone under the dark waves. Realisation struck me, and I dived in after her. Locating her form was simple, but when I drug her to the rocky shore around the shallow pool, I screamed against my arm at the sight of my sister's breathless body. I wanted to scream for help, to beg someone to come and save her, but I was too scared and too selfish to risk being found out of sneaking out. Lips to hers, I had roared and breathed into her lungs, begging her to come back to me, to just—

She gasped, inhaling deeply and her hands found my shirt, clutching tightly to the fabric. I held her face, telling her that everything was going to be okay, before it all went black under the deafening sound of rolling waters; before we found ourselves back home, Calypso with a fever, my giving a sorry excuse, and for the next few days we never spoke. "I'm sorry," I whispered at her door, only a thump of a shoe against its surface as a reply.

Then we grew, and so did the differences between us, forming a bridge between us that wasn't sturdy enough to trust. We were still Calypso the tattletale and Perdita the rebel, but Caly no longer tried to win my attention. I was just a familiar face within four walls that would never be a home, and she was a girl budding with potential -- her future was paved in unyielding concrete, yet mind was a forest path, so unstable that I feared slipping up, and I refused the thought of dragging anyone down with me.

"Caly's sister, right? Listen, there's a party tonight, and—"

"No."

"Huh? I didn't even get the chance to—"

"Nope. Bye."

or

"So, I noticed you in class, and I was thinking that—"

"Not likely."

"What?"

"This little thing you're trying. Not likely."

"No reason to be such a—"

"Bitch? A girl has her hobbies. See ya!"

I was Caly's stone-hearted older sister, the girl reading textbooks by the shore instead of training; the vile prude who hissed at suitors and anything & everything that was fun. At least, that's what the bathroom stalls said. I never cared, though — I was fine alone, and it was better to distance myself; save myself from awkward future situations, from friends with fake smiles, and especially from losing my heart to someone and no longer belonging to myself. I didn't want anyone. I was content with being dying after a lonely, small existence. I—

"No. I don't want you to walk with me."

"Why so snappy? You looked lonely. Only offerin', y'know?"

"I know, and I know that boys like you try to charm girls like me, and nope."

"You honestly think I just want to get into your pants? You're that conceited?"

"Conceited? No. Smart? Yep."

"You really need some fun in your life."

"Ha. Nah, I'm not the kinda girl who's into fun things. I much prefer to suffer in silence and eat the hearts of wayward men that try to charm me."

"Ha! I like you. We're going to be friends."

"No."

"Yes!"

"Nope."

"Yes, yes, yes!"

"No, no, no, and no."

"I'm pretty persistent, y'know, so just you wait."

"Sure."

It was accidental, but I met a boy who spoke like rain against windows. Every syllable was the pitter-patter of water on glass panes, but the feeling he gave me was hurricanes on the foundation of a home. Each day he'd find me on my walk home from school, chasing after me — joking more and more until I eventually began to laugh under my breath; throwing pebbles at my window, dodging the the things I threw down at him in return, leaving notes in my locker, and successfully landing strategic strikes on the fortress that I built for myself.

"I'm scared. I don't— I'm not— I don't want this."

"Stop being afraid, Perdita. Why do you think I'm going to hurt you?"

"It's not— It's not that. I—"

"What, Perdita?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

And then he kissed me, and he sent my towers crumbling down, and I entangled my limbs with those of a boy who somehow managed to make me smile — foreheads pressed together, lips curled upwards as if everything somehow made sense, and he held me close and suddenly I wasn't afraid. A dozen unopened letters in a shoebox under my bed, and my fingertips on his skin drained every unread word out of his heart and into mine. He held me close, whispering in my hair that he'd never let me go, and I made him promise me — to be the one certain thing in my life, and to teach me how to love; to be grateful for my life, when he himself had little to nothing.

"Take it."

"I can't. I—"

"Shut up. It's just some food; my parents will never notice, okay?"

"Per, I—"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

I slipped the baked goods into the basket, placing it in his hands, rising up on tiptoes to kiss his nose. 'I think I love you,' I wanted to whisper, but a shrill voice lashed out at all of my dreams

"Thief! Thief! Mom! Dad! Thief!"

"Calypso? What are you—"

My mother and father came running down the stairs, seeing a stranger with food in a basket that wasn't his, standing near their eldest daughter whose face was shocked. "Fuckin' little rat," my father roared, getting the wrong idea from the situation, my features pulling back in fear.

"Go! Run!"

"Perdita! What's gotten into you?" my mother shrieked as my father followed my love as he darted out the door, making it to my form, and latching onto my shoulders, keeping me held in place."Did he hurt you? I can't believe it. Little thug coming into our house, forcing our daughter to—"

"Mom! He didn't—"

"She's just trying to cover for him. I saw everything," Calypso interjected, her perfect little grin overshadowing my panicked rebuttals. Mother pulled me away, denouncing everything I said as just a scared little girl making excuses, and a day later my love was detained in the Justice Building, to be questioned for his thievery —  to pay back for what I gave him. 

"Mother, I'm taking some bread to the Peacekeepers today, I'll—" Calypso began, before I cut her off with a sudden thought.

"Let me."

"What? You never—"

"Mom, I want to deliver the bread today."

"Huh? No! I—"

"Caly, just let your sister do it. It'll be good for her."

And then I was off, making my way into the Justice Building, handing out the food and glancing down every hall. Eventually I found him, and with sly fingers I released him.

"You idiot! What are you—"

"Run away with me. Right now."

"Per, you're being—"

"Stupid? Reckless? I don't care. I— I'm sorry! I— I just—"

He kissed me, fingers finding mine.

"I forgive you, y'know."

"Don't. Just come on!"

And we ran, and I had no clue of my destination, just as before, but we found ourselves getting farther away from the outskirts of our district.

"Eventually we'll get to the fence, and we—"

"No," shot out a voice like a sharpened razor, Calypso Leto meeting my gaze when I turned to check. "You're not leaving. Not with him. A thief and a criminal skipping out on punishment."

"Calypso, stop! It was all me! I gave him the bread, I got him loose, I—"

"You're in the way." She readied the bow that was on her shoulder, poising an arrow.

"Calypso, please— Please don't do this— I—"

She let it fly, and my love pushed me to the side, landing within the shelter of a bush. He cried out in pain, arrow sticking out from his knee, and Calypso smirked. "Got him!" she called out, and within minutes other Peacekeepers appeared, congratulating my prodigy of a sister. 

"Was there anyone else?" Her eyes found mine under the leaves, just for a single fleeting moment.

"No. It was just him. He stole, and he escaped on his own."

"Justice will be served."

"Good."

The next day he was tied to a post, and my screams matched only those of his family. He was whipped repeatedly for attempting to escape the district, just a show of public punishment. Calypso had came in the night to bring me home, my form having stayed frozen where he had left me, and I regretted not leaving when I had the chance — when his eyes found mine, and— And—

And then they spread, a croak escaping his lips as his face contorted. Blood dripped from his back, the whip slicing at a vein. He became limp, slumping closer to the ground, and I tried to run forward, but Calypso caught me by the arms. "Watch, sister! Justice is being served!"

"No! No! No! Please, no! Please! Stop! STOP! 

S
T
O
P!"

He shuddered, and then all was silent as the blood began to spread around his legs — and I killed the one thing that I truly loved, and I lost myself when I lost him, and I—

I shut down. Silent stares, unmoving body. "Perdita, please talk to us." Nothing. "Perdita, what's wrong?" Nothing, but everything. "Perdita, please come out." Nothing. "Dita? I— I'm sorry."

My shoe slammed against the door, and my sister winced.

No one would believe my cries that he had been innocent, so I kept them to myself, along with everything else. Just a young man on the wrong side of the tracks getting what was coming, and a crazy young girl seemingly broken by the death of someone who didn't matter to her.

But he was my world; he was the vines upon my ancient exterior that held me together, and I crumbled into nothing when he left. I spent so long trying to teach myself to survive in isolation, and upon finding someone that taught me to trust, to open up, I—

I set myself on fire with the ashes of his memory, and I ceased to exist.

"Perdita, please."

"Please come out."

"It's been weeks."

"Please."

"I'm sorry."

"What's wrong?"

"Please."

"Perdita?"

"It's been months."

"Please, talk to me."

"I know you're awake."

"Please."

"Perdita, please— I'm— I'm so fucking sorry."

So am I.

---

... And that's okay.