kira byrne. / district 6 (fin)

"come on, little lady, give us a smile"
no, i ain't got nothin' to smile about

I AM THE BAD DAUGHTER
THE FREEDOM FIGHTER
THE SHAPER OF DEATH MASKS.

I AM THE SNAKE.
I AM THE CRONE.

—————

She is the one her parents forget to mention, the one who is just as pretty as her sister—if she brushes her hair and wipes away the three-day-old eye-liner from her face and smiles just like Georgia. In a perfect world, Kira knows, her parents would have one child. One perfect, golden girl to carry on their legacy of boring, stuffy dinners, of muted colors and quiet tones, of proper collars and frilly dresses.

And for as long as she can remember, her parents have tried their hardest to shove those same beliefs, expectations, and goals down Kira's throat. So much so that she nearly gags every time they bring it up. 

Why can't you be more like your sister?

She often answers this with a FUCK YOU or a I'D RATHER DROP DEAD, but the question haunts her. It clings to her bones like an icy, winter chill causing her to shiver; to question every aspect of her very existence. 

Why can't I be more like Georgia? 

Kira watches her when she isn't looking; when her head is in the clouds; when she's curating something across a canvas; when she's sitting there as quiet as can be. Utterly perfect—utterly boring. 

And its always right then, in those moments when Georgia doesn't know her sister is watching—when Georgia doesn't know Kira is comparing the two of them—that an even better question springs forth inside the less-loved daughter's head: 

Why would I want to be like her anyway?

no, i won't smile, but i'll show you my teeth
i'mma let you speak if you let me breathe