sofia kinsley | seven | fin [cb]

”Twirling your hair like that won’t get his attention.”

Every little act and movement noticed by the predator’s eye. A bully for a lifetime, eighteen years later and my lack of reaction is no cure for his poisonous words. An older brother’s hits that are now numb to me, he is not a problem anymore. Just an existence in my life that travels with the wind, blows by me now and then but never gets tangled in my hair. Honestly, his empty head is the least of my worries. No longer the burden that I carried through my pre-teen life, I have just replaced him with new burdens.

So many faces need dirt wiping from their cheeks, the weak and their need for assistance, they deserve to be the burdens in my life. Twelve-hour days delivering so called ’medical care.’ Knowledge is so valuable in Seven but hard to come by, the best I can do is wrap up a wound and hope that it is tight enough to hold off any infection. Access to the cures aren’t that far away, they and dangled in our faces by the Capitol but they are far enough for us to be unable reach them.

I know my purpose, sometimes I am not even thanked for it. Even after filling my father’s pockets with my own wages, a grunt is his only responses. Whatever I guess. A wage is just a bonus in this line of work, watching the walking wounded be discharged without a limp is enough for me to continue. Even if the drunks come bustling in with their self-inflicted injuries, my brother has taught me to numb out the poisonous slurred words.

I thank the bully of my life for making me strong enough to fend off the world.