Hand That Helps | Caimile's Speech|

He's taught her everything that he knows.

Jenoah was dead, but her father was not. Words scribbled down on cards by her father to memorize and speak to the crowd, but this wasn't his speech. It was her own. The face of the boy she met who had been poor comes to her mind. The people at her cousin's church reminding her of why she needed to win the election for the district's sake, not her own father's sake.

As she steps up on stage, eyes scanning the crowd of hundreds and thousands staring back at her. This was her moment to leave the web of lies that her father had created for their family. As the world turned silent, she spoke up with passion her eyes and care in her soul.

She was to be born anew.

"Mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters of District Eight, I welcome you all to our election. Thank you for coming out and supporting all of us who are running."

Pause for a smile.

"I'm Caimile Rasoio, as most of you hopefully know by now. We, the people of District Eight, are in ruins. We finally have achieved our very first victor, but at what cost? Years and years of children taking out tesserae to sustain their families for another year and put their own lives on the line for us all. I'm sick of this, aren't all of you? As mayor of District Eight, I'd create a relief for this by building up our economy once again. The world is ever changing and we need to be changing with it."

Mind whirls around in the madness of an election.

Become anew, Rasoio.

"We won't be looked down upon by other districts. They mock us for making things as simple as the textiles and clothes that many of them wear. What do they know of us? They don't see the struggles of the workers who work day in and day out to make these products in factories with hard labor. I want to bring better working conditions to those factory workers that work on little to nothing for our main product. They deserve more than what we are giving them. As my cousin would say, Ripred be with their souls."

Her father stares up at her with a knowing look. A gulp of air as she ignores the pestering thoughts in her mind.

"District Eight's problems aren't with anyone else, but ourselves. Gang violence is still a major part of our society that I wish to get rid of. Precious lives don't need to be wasted over useless violence. The rich keep getting richer, while everyone else gets poorer. I want to change this. I want to get homes for the homeless that roam the streets. I've seen them first hand while helping my cousin feed them. Everyday people walk past them without thinking of ever giving back, this must change. Instead of being divided by class, we should be united as one. A machine where every gear turns another. A machine that no other district has, a group of people who are all united as one. Divided, we will fall."

The glare that comes her way is brushed off. This was her escape from the webs that she used to weave.

"District Eight is a place where people look away at one another, I want to be the hand that helps everyone off the ground. No more division in District Eight. We must be reborn into a district worth being proud of. I want to work with the people, all of the people, young, old, poor, rich, even the people I am running against. I want us all to be united as one unit to solve the problems that are at hand. Pollution. Education. Workers rights. Economic issues. I want us all to be involved in the processes that will affect the district. I want us all to be the hand that helps one another up."

A deep breath.

A smile.

Reborn again.

"Let me hold us up before we fall again. This is my promise, District Eight. Make your voices heard. Make your choice. Be it me or someone else. Vote for your voice."

Become caught in the web, eight.

"Vote Caimile Rasoio for mayor."