all you left behind [cinder/carmen]

If it weren't for music being in my life, I'd have even fewer things that made me happy. Since losing Ping, I haven't had a very close friend in a while. I'd say that Moana and I are good friends, yes, but we're not as close as Ping and I were. It's extremely hard for me to connect with someone in the same way that I did with Ping, and now that she's dead and gone, buried underneath the mud in District Eleven in the cemetery nearest to my house, it's even harder to do. There are many days I'll just go sit at her grave in the cemetery and speak or sing to her as if she were still here, but in the end, I have to remind myself that she can't hear me. She's gone, and there's nothing I can do to bring her back.

Sure, the Capitol could have brought her back if they wanted to. They had proven that by showing some mercy to the tributes of the Eightieth Games and bringing them back to life. Then again, I can't imagine that it's a peaceful, pleasant life that the Eightieth Games tributes get to live after all of the trauma they went through in the arena. At least Ping was at peace, now. She wouldn't be living with survivors' guilt, or the guilty conscience of a killer. I missed her, though, more than anything, even if she was better off no longer being alive than having to spend every waking day suffering.

I suppose it's quite ironic that my mind was on the subject of the tributes from the Eightieth Hunger Games given what I encountered as I was on a walk around the District. It was very rare for my cruel step-mother to let me wander about outside of the house, but she'd allowed me to do so today. Therefore, I made the best of it by taking in every sight and sound that I came across. I took in everything around me, like the smell of nature after this morning's rain, and the warmth of the sun that was now peering out from behind the clouds that had been gray and stormy just hours earlier.

Then, I heard a pleasant sound. It was a musical tune, coming from a girl who was sitting on a bench on the edge of the sidewalk. She was singing a song that I recognized, but it wasn't just the song that was familiar. I recognized the girl, too, despite never having met her. It was Carmen Stirling, District Eleven's revived female tribute from the Eightieth Games. Making my way over to sit down on the bench next to her, I started to sing the same song right along with her. The tune was easy to carry, and Carmen seemed to know it as well as I did. Her voice was exceptionally pleasing to my ear, too. I just hoped I wasn't a bother to her.

When the singing stopped, I spoke up.

"You have a beautiful singing voice," I told her. "I hope you don't mind that I joined in. I love to sing, too." I gave her a smile. "My name's Cinder, by the way."

It felt like a good thing to do, introducing myself. Whether or not Carmen really had any friends here in Eleven after coming back from the Games, I didn't know, but I hoped that if she was open to it, maybe I could become a friend to her. I'm sure that we could both use a little bit more friendship in our lives. Things have been rough for both of us in the past few years (although much more difficult for her, I was sure) and to me, that meant that having a shoulder to lean on would be a good thing.