romney, district four ; fin cb

I'm afraid of throwing a punch.

Don't get it twisted - it's not because I can't. I'm just afraid of living up to my name. Got big shoes to fill, y'know?

Kal was sort of a big shot around here, the type of guy everyone made it their business to know. Still is, really. He has the meanest right you'll ever see, broke this guy's nose in three places, put him on his ass with blood gushing out as if it was a waterfall. It got all swollen and became a purple-ish blue that reminded me of watercolor. He's a machine, the finest-tuned career in Four. And Panem too, probably.

But you see, that's where my problem lies.

How will I ever be that?

I know he's my brother and that I should be proud of him, that I should look up at him with awe swimming in my eyes. And I do. But that's not what happens in career districts. The golden child is revered by all but their rivals, their comparables, and siblings are the prime ones. Our names are synonymous with each other, that kind of pressure isn't something you can just shake off and act like it's not there. You feel it in every look that comes your way, in every word that drips off your parent's lips. It's inescapable.

Nami has it easy. She's only fourteen but she has a wildness to her. That kind of killer instinct you could only find in apex predators. Honestly, she could rival Kal if she cared even the tiniest bit. I think that's why I hate her, not truly, but part of me does. She doesn't even have to try in training and yet she outperforms me, and I'm no slouch. It's just frustrating, y'know?

Being sandwiched in between a haloed, perfect son and a prodigy daughter. It's enough to make somebody go mad.