mirabilia belhaven {capitol} fin

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Flesh and blood, flesh and bone; I am theirs.

Royalty, essentially, that’s how people look at us in the Capitol. Everything is defined by a surname, our status hinges on the collection of letters that follows our given name and whilst in some senses, that’s a pretty cool thing, in mine, it means that I don’t really know how to live.

The focus is shifted onto what I’m doing, not who I am. My mother’s hands always organising upcoming photoshoots or ordering someone to polish my throne, my mother’s eyes always looking for a new opportunity to exploit so that we become more than a family and branch outwards, upwards in search of bigger, better and brighter things. I’m convinced that if she had the chance, she would write our names in the stars so that everyone has a permanent reminder of how great we are.

We would look upon the same stars and see different things.

But we are the carriers of holy genetics. I have grown into her face: the same vacant eyes, full lips and skin for the sun to caress and kiss for the rest of time. A shining halo always hovering inches above my head—even if I did do wrong, they wouldn’t care. Belhaven girls are a rarity and people worship the ground I walk on. Shrouded in lace and glitter, gold and silver from birth, it is like I am the queen of an invisible kingdom. Glory here and glory there, chandeliers and candelabras, portraits and paparazzi. Stars in my eyes, I’m convinced that I’m not going to let myself go blind because of it.

Everything was chosen for me when I was younger. Home-schooled by imported professors and teachers but lost in a feeling of loneliness. No friends, only family; I was forced to find friends where they weren’t meant to be. The media held my hand carefully and documented every moment of my childhood—there was a six page spread in a magazine when I took my first steps and I did a radio interview before I could even speak because people had their heart set on hearing my voice, a voice that one man said had the power to save the world. Big lights for a small girl, I had somehow captured the hearts and minds of the Capitol’s citizens.

It's a good feeling, an addictive one.

I didn’t really know what was going on, honestly, I just followed in the footsteps of what I knew. Learning grace and elegance from my mother, understanding the importance of good behaviour from nannies and slowly, but surely, being shaped into an angel. Wings were sprouting from my back but they were no good because I didn’t have the courage to fly. I may have been taught everything, but I never taught myself anything. There was no room for mistakes, no trips or falls because that would lead to the breaking of my halo. It’s almost like I was shielded from everything that had the potential to be bad. A girl so precious to her family that they didn’t want anything to taint her, they didn’t want anything to tarnish the hero she would grow to be—I feel like I’ve missed out, sometimes.

My brothers forced me to create my own shell, though, thank Ripred. Toughness and resilience from the teasing and name calling, the pushes and shoves which led to bruises which would be hidden by flawless makeup. But between the thorns of a rocky relationship, we have a bond. We get each other, we understand what it is like to be placed on a pedestal and to live, breathe and bleed the values instilled into us from birth. I like that, there is a sense of unity that binds us together.

I guess that I’m protective over them. I feel like I’m the it-girl, the one they really wanted, and the rest are just—spares? It doesn’t feel like the right word, but I don’t know how else to put it. I remember being little and receiving a porcelain doll that looked just like me. It must have cost a fortune, it had every detail of my skin, every flaw and every perfection. My brothers didn’t get their own china replicas, they didn’t get anything. It feels like an unwritten rule that I must take them under my wing because otherwise they might feel unwanted. No one deserves to feel like that, and I won’t let it happen to the people I hold closest to my heart.

Fifteen and I'm still cemented into the hearts of the Capitol’s citizens. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful and in love with the life I have, though growing up in the spotlight has its downsides. There are always people watching, cameras always flashing, and people always knowing about things before I do. You know, I want to be the one who makes the rest of my life, I want to prove that I’m something more than evidence of nepotism. I want to live free and be able to spread my wings without someone worrying about how they look. I want to make something of myself, be strong and be successful, be good and be bad. Above all, I want to love and be loved, to hurt and be hurt, to fall and be caught.

I want to do more than just exist, I want to live.

But—I have their flesh, blood and bone, and no matter how hard anyone tries, I guess I’m scared that some things will never change.