Paths | [Temple 85th Top 8 Interview]

Bright studio lights hit my eyes and I flinch trying to see through the blur of assistants and producers. They're dressed in all black but their candy colored hair and strange makeup does little to hide them. The reporter takes my hand pulling me over until my boots hit a yellow mark someone painted on the dirt outside our ranch.

I remember seeing yellow mixed in with the soil when I came home five years ago but didn't think much of it. Kahinta had stood in the same place and answered the same questions.

There's a pain in my hip from lying on the floor in front of the television afraid if I go back up to our shared room that I'll miss something.

Her presence is everywhere. Her clothing, her things. Everything on the ranch is tinged with her and I cannot walk through the prairie or sleep upstairs without wondering about her.

I close my eyes. I don't want to cry on camera, I've done that enough already, but I know the second I open my mouth the threat of tears will always be there strangling my words.

A Capitolite steps in and counts down from three and suddenly the conversations stop and the focus is on me and the woman beside me. She is short, only coming up to my shoulder, and is dressed in a weird combination of fall colors as if to match the browns and tans of District Ten.

"Temple Jones, everyone is asking about your kid sister Kahinta and her performance in the Games thus far. Did you think she'd manage to make it to the Top Eight?"

The microphone is moved towards my face but all I can think is she's not a kid anymore. Kahinta hasn't been a kid for a long time.

"Yes," I say finally. "She had to."

I cannot begin to live in a world where she does not.

"We have a few questions from fans in the Capitol," the reporter says, pulling out a note card. "What is with Kahinta and traps?"

A chuckle rises from the crew as the microphone is placed by my mouth.

"Um, she's never been... Kahinta has never treaded lightly." It almost feels good to talk about her. Ma and Pa have watched the TV silently, barely mentioning it at all as they push food around their plates. they've gone through this pain already and have shut down. I have not. I have only my own thoughts.

"She is quite the tribute," the reporter smiles. "How does it feel to watch Kahinta walk in your footsteps?"

My heart twists. This was not a path I wanted to make for her. I never wanted a target painted on her back, I never wanted to watch her fight for her life. Watch her kill. Kahinta was life. She was home and the ranch and everything I wanted to come back to. My Games had made her hard, and now hers was making her...

I think of the thin air high up hanging onto a red wood branch and the dark flicker that had covered my heart before shoving Bette to what I could only assume was her death. How that one second of my life had replayed a million times in my head.

I didn't want to see her turn into a killer, but Ripred I needed her home. If I was ever going to see her again she couldn't begin to walk in my footsteps. I died. I died a loser. The only sixth place tribute to ever go home because of pure luck I was reaped one year and not the next.

"Temple?" the reporter places a hand on my arm and by instinct I pull away, wavering from the yellow X I'm supposed to stand on. I pause looking at the cameras. They were still waiting for an answer.

"I pray she doesn't."