a light to guide her home | charade

E L L E N

The emotions on Katelyn Persimmons face were all too familiar. The pain that danced on her features were ones that Ellen had worn since the moment Bella's name was called. From the moment she saw her on the flickering screen in her living room, running through the chaos of the blood bath.

The distraught the same emotion she wore as she watched as she was striked down, blades slicing into flesh, bones cracking, her withering form as she fought for breath. The same emotion as the girls knife from one pierced her beating heart.

The grief the same she wore as she buried a child who died too early.

She follows Ellen into the house, hands fidgeting nervously around each other. Ellen wasn't sure exactly how she was supposed to feel at the sight of the victor. She wandered if she was supposed to feel rage at the woman, for letting down her daughter. She wandered if she should be yelling at her, tears of frustration slipping down aged cheeks. Maybe she should have slammed the door in her face. Maybe that was what she was supposed to do...

But as she watched the nervous victor she knew that she couldn't be mad at her. She couldn't blame her for not brining home her daughter. And as she examined the woman she knew that she could never yell at her, never rip into her for the loss of Bella. She didn't know her very well, but she could tell that the pain on her face was genuine. She was hurting and Ellen didn't have it in her to reopen the wound that obviously was still fresh enough to cause distress.

"Thats very kind of you Miss Persimmon. The support that- that our home has shown us has truely been something my Matthew and I will forever be grateful for."

"Arabella was a special girl,” the victor starts, Ellens lips pull back into a small smile, fresh tears welling at the corner of her eyes. Arabella would have given anything to hear the victor speak such kind words about her, Ellen knew how high she thought of her, even if the reasons of thinking so much changed over the short period they were acquainted.

"She was. No one really understood just how kind and caring and loving she could be. Often they would start to turn away too early, her endless talk deterring them from really taking a chance to get to know her."

After another moment Katelyn refuses to meet her gaze, eyes turn towards the ground as she apologises- genuinely apologises- for the death of Bella. For a moment Ellen is speechless, her eyes widened as she stared at the blonde victor. "I- we- I know." She takes a step closer, a comporting hand placed on the taller woman arm. "Thank you," she says quietly, her turn to look away. "Thank you for giving her a chance. For seeing her for who she was. For trying to bring her home."

Dropping her hand she wipes at her eyes, "I'm about to go see her- did you want to come? Mayor Izar came by and dropped off this candle that I wish to light for her... In his culture it's supposed to represent a light to guide the soul to peace."

E L L E N

Eyes still unable to meet Ellens she opens the door for them. Ellen smiles kindly at her, quickly grabbing the flowers and candle from the kitchen table before she exits the house. The door closes quietly behind them as they begin to walk up her long driveway. Ellen was sure she wouldn't need to direct the victor towards the cemetery. There was something about her that made Ellen feel like she knew the younger girl spent a little bit go time there. Saying her farewells to those she believed she could not save.

She could not even imagine herself to be in Katelyn's shoes. To have been traumatised at such a young age- 16 or 17 she believed. To have to wake up each morning and know that 23 others had died so you could live. To be forced to entertain the capitol every year since. Forced to watch each years as two children are thrown into your hands, hopeful eyes turned towards you, begging that you saved them next. Only to watch helplessly as they are murdered at the hands at the capitol.

It was a life she wished on no one, but would have accepted for Bella if it meant seeing her one more time. Wrapping her in a hug for one more moment. As selfish as that was.

"These were her favourite," she says, smiling down at the small bouquet. They weren't the prettiest flowers, but their fragrant was to die for. The earthy scent complimented by sweet floral undertones. "Ellen they are a lot like me, don't you think?" she had said one day, leaning down to stick her nose into the depths, her dark hair falling in her face. "Plain on the outside. But on the inside; magnificent." Grinning she had skipped, hands tucked behind her back , ahead of Ellen, enjoying the feeling of the suns rays against her cheek.

""They may not be the prettiest," she's say, "but they smell divine."' Ellen presses her nose into the bouquet, taking a deep breath in.

Ellen is silent for a moment, eyes watching the trail before them before she turns her gaze to Katelyn, "how are you, dear?" She wandered if many people asked her that. Or by the time the end of the games came around, the families she approached (much like her own) might be too mad to say anything but slam a door in her face. "You, too, have been through a lot. It may not be something you are worried about, but you must remember to take care of yourself." People often forgot to take care of themselves.

E L L E N

Before Arabella she was had not had one single maternal bone in her body. Matthew and herself had talked about having children briefly, but had agreed that it wasn't for us. That the lives they lived already had everything that life had to offer. She never walked down the street and saw a small child and thought; one day I'll want one of those. In fact she would see them screaming in their mothers arms, their cries like nails running down a chalk board, and she would sigh in relief that she didn't have such a terror to deal with.

But the moment Arabella had become part of her life she changed. Bella changed her. Suddenly she became that older lady who would coo at new borns in the market line. That older lady who would brings sweets to the neighbours on weekend. Who would spoil children rotten, if she got the chance. In some ways she regretted that she had not found it sooner, that she wished that she had realised the secret to a fuller life in the prime of her life. But in so many other ways she was glad that it had been Bella who had introduced it to her. And even if she wished she could have had more, she would not change it, she would not wish to have any other daughter than Miss Arabella Shirley.

She loved the woman she had become. The mother she never knew she was.

Ellen's question caused shocked Katelyn, and it caused her heart to ache. A simple question such as "how are you?" should never come as a shock. But in a world that was full of cruel intentions and living nightmares where every years 23 children are murder for public viewing, maybe she should be surprised to see the expression that laced at the edged of the beautiful victors face. But it hurt no less. Common decency nothing but a folks tale to many these days.

Thanking her for her kindness she brushes the question off with lightly, claiming that it was just fatigue that was the cause of the dark rings under her eyes, or the tension on the way she held her shoulders. But Ellen doesn't pry, letting it go as they entered the cemetery. She wanted to tell the victor that it was okay to talk to her. That maybe the ear of a stranger could potentially ease the tension in the muscles of her back. That the simple task of venting to someone who might just listen could help bring a sense of comfort to an exhausted mind.

But it was not her place.

So she smiles at her, "if you ever need to talk, my door will be open to you, Katelyn. Always." For Bella. For herself. Maybe Ellen couldn't say Bella, but she could help unburden the woman before her.

Arriving at Bellas resting place Ellens breath gets caught in her throat. The engraving so fresh compared to the weathered stones around them. A wave of grief crashes through her and for a moment her vision blurred as fresh tears begin to fill her eyes. One day she would be able to walk through those gates with nothing but a smile, celebrating the short life of Arabella Shirley. But for now, her steps would be seared with pain, her heart still trying to pick up the pieces that was left behind as her daughters heart was shattered.

"Good evening, my angel." Her voice breaks. Bending down she places the flowers by her name, unlike the other stones around them, Bellas was like a rainbow. Ellen had requested that they make it from crushed pebbles, colourful and quirky, just like her.

Pulling out the candle she places it by the stone, lighting it quickly as the sun begun to dip below the horizon. "I hope this light helps you find home. Find peace, my love." She closes her eyes for a moment. "If anyone deserves to Rest In Peace, it is you Arabella."