ningguang. 7. cbd1.

Being wealthy in District 7 is... odd.

In the sense that it's very isolating. The rich don't want a bar of you because you're a Capitolite's bastard who's mother was paid off to stay quiet, and the poor loathe you for it anyway. I opted for a treehouse the day I turned nineteen, one of the tallest in all of Seven, just to get away from it all. In the sky I don't feel like I have to prove myself, justify my means. If anyone bothered to venture up here, sit me down and have a nice long chat over tea they might learn that I took what money my biological father gave me and turned it over tenfold - investing in Seven, not the Capitol. I helped build homes and repair the township and supplied workers with brand new clothes and boots for the winter. I refurbished the orphanage, painted the Justice Building, did something good from within the mayor's office.

But I find that people don't want to hear the truth if it's hard to swallow, so I don't bother opening my mouth. I just sit in my treehouse and look down upon them, and feel satisfied in the fact I've made their tired lives just that little bit easier - even if they're too busy craning their necks to scowl at me to take a look around and see.