Post by cameron on Dec 29, 2019 12:38:17 GMT -5
Truth Casimir
11 years old
District 3
My name is Truth, and, honestly, I don't know all that much. I know I was born in district three, and I know life here is rat shit, and I know nobody wants to do a thing about it. I know it shouldn't be up to us to fight for change, but that's what we do anyway. And I know no one expects a little thing like me to carve their chest like a Jack-o-lantern. But that's what I do anyway.
Mama taught us early on that the top dogs want to keep us down. She taught us that their factories and their machines are destroying the world we know, the only world we got. Taught us to right the wrongs they treat as normal. As common. As necessary.
My older siblings, they're supposed to be the heavy-hitters. The "vigilantes." That leaves us kids to learn about pollution and teach people the error of their ways. But I'm not good at learning. I like not knowing all that much.
What I am good at is pain. It's what I know the most about. I shouldn't need medicine to walk outside. I shouldn't feel my lungs tighten because of factories smoking up the skies. I shouldn't have to count on the elders to steal puffers so I can breathe normally. So I do it myself. The first time, I followed them when they thought I was out preaching to an inattentive audience. Followed them, watched them, became them. Now I sneak in all on my own, tiny little me, and no one ever suspects me of any foul play till it's far too late. They see my curls, my big brown eyes, and ask if I'm lost.
Then, they lose their lives.
I'm quick with my tongue, but quicker with a knife. They fall, I gather what I need, and I go.
The elders take out arsonists. Prostitutes. Those contaminating our district. I take out the men who charge too much for basic needs. We all just want to keep Three clean.
