maroon clayton | three . fin

you were bathed in knowledge.
hugged by the universe.
touched by athena.

but it seems nobody else recognizes your worth. a " good job " when you ace a test. your legacy was meant for the powerful, not the damned.

you fiddled with the construct of matter, but nobody cared. father called your experiments hobbies, they weren't further from the word you despised to hear. what you do are scientific experiments, they tested theories to their limits. you broke matter, crafted space and time. you observe molecular divison, you don't conform to the social standards of teenage activities, otherwise what your father calls " hobbies. "

goggles covering satin brown eyes. oak hair cascading into a tight bun risen onto the top of your head. sparks fly as chemicals react to each other. this is not a hobby. it's a lifestyle.

you used to have a family. but you started to realize that days in this world were numbered for the claytons. ave, despite a good life, threw herself out into a reality-bending arena and got herself killed. then bruce, despite the odds, got thrown into a psychedelic wonderland and got his head chopped off. the claytons were no longer sitting on the sidelines, watching kids ripped away from their families each games. they were the kids getting ripped away.

the odds are against you and your family. you don't wish you were going to be safe, after all you don't believe in fairy tales.

mother once told you a story. it's not one you believe. she looked at you, her blue eyes giving you a euphoric feeling. her hands wrapped into yours, a reassuring squeeze as the lies fell from lips. she tried to shield you from this world, but it was only a matter of time that you came to the realization that this world is not a good place. it's not the home that you deserve. you have a mind that could possibly change something, but this world doesn't have many opportunities for success.

you don't pray something magical happens, because hope just creates a filter on reality.

---

you don't laugh at the jokes the pranksters say during class. you rather resent the dark humor they speak. maybe that's why nobody really likes you. harsh words spoken from their sinful lips, but some of them are so unrealistic that they bring a smile to your face. a metallic wraps itself around your moonlight stroked skin. their insults don't even graze you. that is one thing that being a clayton has taught you, how to deal with the consequences of life in panem. the others haven't realized the effect it can have on a person, nonetheless a family. 

mother once told you that you looked like a doll. that was one of the many lies that feels from her lips. she told you of your beauty, of your fair pink lips and your thin but tall built body. some of the lies had truth meddled into them.

you have a hard time believing what people say. especially people who say things that you can't define as fact or fiction. the only person you can actually trust is yourself, that is the one person who will always be their for you. so that is why you hold yourself in high regards.

---

( " i volunteer " )

ave's words ring out across the square, just as the other small girl's had. your little sister always tried to defy the odds, but this time she defied your expectations. ave had a good intentions, but a bad way of going about them. she died. and her death hurt less since she brought it upon us, and herself.

you shed no tears.

( " bruce clayton " )

bruce was unrealistic. he was a dreamer, he believed in miracles and true happiness. but he was also pure.

the games brought out a different side, a side nobody wanted to see. the capitol brought out the killer in him, and we all saw it as he struck down the boy from two. we saw it when he severed the leg of the boy from five. we saw it in his eyes, his last moment before the girl from eleven sliced off his head. just like that.

you still shed no tears.

they call you cold-hearted, but your just realistic. you don't believe in miracles. you don't believe in hope. you don't believe in gods. you don't believe in fairy tales.

you believe in fact, and if people don't accept that.

well.

fuck em'