the quiet will scream the truth [arrows]

Stitch would never get used to what happened here in the capitol.

The mess hall, the place where they ate felt more like a zoo, and as much as Stitch wanted to partake in the same luxuries that citizens here could, he wasn’t interested.

He was always taught to never take more than he could handle, and while he hated his mothers teaching, he could at least understand why this one was so important.

In her eyes, everything was about self preservation, and in Stitch’s eyes, that meant that everything was about her as much as she tried to not make it about her.

At the end of the day, their views never matched, except when it came to taking too much.

Then their views aligned like the planets did every couple of cosmos.

And as much as Stitch didn’t want to admit that there was something that his mother was right about, he still did, because that was the right thing to do.

He was always preaching about it to Connor, because he knew that Connor never really had anyone to take care of him like Stitch did.

As much as he hated his mother, he was still appreciative of what she had done for him. Without her, he wouldn’t be known across Panem for his work.

She was the reason of his success here in the capitol as much as he didn’t want to admit it, and now he was here, getting ready to meet his maker.

---

and Stitch wondered if anyone knew who he really was. If there was anyone in the capitol that could recognize his work just from seeing his face. There were people all around that were wearing things that were made by him, but from what they knew, they were brought over thanks to his mother.

As much as he hated her, she was the reason why they all survived.

At least, that is what Stitch told himself as he took a bite of his pudding.

A weird desert that he had never heard of in his life. But the consistency made him question what it was exactly made out of.

After another bite, he pushed it aside and grabbed a couple strawberries from the plate that he placed in front of him and plopped them in his mouth.

An explosion of flavor took over, and for once, Stitch felt like he was in a place that could at least treat him the way that he wanted to be treated.

Like a king.

But that would never happen. Because at the end of the day, he had to kill in order to get what he wanted, and as much as he wanted to be a pacifist, that would get him nowhere.

Because no matter how much he told himself that he wanted to die, he didn’t really want to. He wanted to go on and win, so he could find his own way in life.

But he was first going to have to take down anyone that tried to get in his way.

---

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked around the mess hall, wondering if there was anyone here that felt the same way that he did.

He looked down at his tray and wondered how much of himself he would have to lose in order to win.

Or how much of himself he would have to keep secret until the moment was right.

And so he grabbed another strawberry and plopped it in his mouth.

Stitch would never get used to what happened in here in the capitol.