Ion Olith [District 3]

A hand reached out for a lone coffee mug on a bedside table, one creamer and two sugars. By the looks of it, the coffee mug itself weighed enough to give the frail girl a struggle, and the extra volume of the drink in the cup should have been so much that the girl would drop it, but that was not the case. She lifted the mug to her lips in a fluid, rehearsed motion. She took a sip, inviting the comforting concoction to rush into her insides and wake her up. Her dark brown eyes still puffy from the night's sleep, she peered around her bedroom, sighting a despair even through the beams of dusty sunlight draped over her belongings. The day could only feel as good as she did, and she was not much of a morning person.

Long black hair lay in disheveled clumps on her head. She had never been too good of a sleeper, the night terrors wouldn't allow for that no matter how well she seemed to have adjusted to them. Perhaps that was the reason she was always such a slow riser, unlike her younger two siblings and mother. They always seemed to be awake at the first hint of sunlight, which left little room for Ion to have the appropriate amount of time to stretch and let her body charge up for the coming day before she was tasked with the day's To-Dos. That's what the coffee was for. A kind of kickstart to getting where Mom expected her to be - bright eyed and bushy tailed and eager for what the day had to offer. Or more honestly what she felt was what she could offer the day.

She took a sip of coffee heartier than before, set the cup down, and stretched her arms and back. Mom would always joke and say that if you looked at Ion sideways she disappeared, and this is what Ion considered as she felt the lactic acid envelop her tiny muscles, sending a loud rush to her head. She'd been working hard to gain weight this month, and as she begrudgingly kicked her legs off of the bed and stood up to analyze the damage from the night before, she couldn't help but to notice her face seemed to be a little more full than what she remembered it the day before. It was a ways off before she was the size she wanted, and conversely the size Mom wanted, but the littlest sight of progress was enough to do the rest of the job of the coffee and put her in good spirits. Looking at her dark tan skin in the mirror, tossing her face from side to side, she shook her hair out to look more intentional and turned towards the door, taking note of the cold hardwood flooring underneath her bony feet.

Down a small hallway and a rickety wooden staircase was the kitchen, which she made her way towards. This was just another day for her, so the yellowing wallpaper drenched in the tar and smoke of her mom's cigarettes did not catch her eye. In fact, it took a lot to catch her eye now that she'd gotten a little older. She could feel her inner child stepping further and further back while a new Ion took the old one's place. Where once she was filled with wonder and awe of the world around her, was now an angsty teenager without a strong sense of direction. She had expectations set by her mother that she lived to abide by, but it would have been dishonest if Ion were to say she felt happy about it.

It was a bit of double edged sword for Ion. On one hand, she felt a duty to live up to her mom's expectations. Ever since Dad had passed, life had been a lot different for Ion. She wore grief like a cozy sweater, knowing at the core of it all was an innate love, and that translated to an intense obligation to make the most of the relationship she had with her mom. The catch was that no matter what Ion did, it would never be enough for her mother. So there she was, stuck in a loop of striving and reaching for something that didn't exist.

To Ion, the pressure from her mother was not extended to her two younger brothers, Coil and Copper. Mom was much more lenient on the twins, in a way that Ion did not recall experiencing as a child. Despite this, Ion still had a fierce dependency to her mother, and to other people in general. The overbearing nature of her parents in her youth did not lend her to independence, and alone time quickly became overbearing for Ion.

She watched her dainty feet step, step, step down the staircase until she reached the bottom, where she was met with a most glorious smell. It wasn't easy for Ion to lose sight of despair, of the greyness that seemed to have infected her District, but the smell of Mom's breakfast was enough to make her forget, even if it was temporary. "Good morning, sunshine!" called Mom. "Morning," replied Ion.

Her two younger brothers were in the living room. The light on the ceiling fan was on, although at this time of day you couldn't notice a difference. Ion's house was old to put it lightly. Two large glass windows sit on either side of the red front door to the house, and it was the sunlight outside that lit the room. Ion rolled her eyes at the sight of her two brothers playing, unable to comprehend the envy of their youth that she felt she had lost. "You two are so annoying," she called out to them, stepping past the living room and into the kitchen. The boys were too enraptured in their toy cars to care.

"I don't get why you're so mean to your brothers, Ion." Mom stood at the stove, stirring a pan of sautéing mushrooms. Eggs and cheese were to her right on the counter. Ion's Mom wasn't much of a cook, but she'd managed to teach herself how to cook a mighty omelet. The kids weren't picky either, which helped.

"Well I don't get why they've got to bug me all the time," Ion replied. It was true. Maybe not most mornings, but after a while they would get bored of each other and start taking their turns bugging Ion to play. Ion had an immense connection to her brothers, and the loss of Dad had silently strengthened that bond. Ion was well aware that misery loved company, and the family of now-four-once-five now each had an understood recognition of the part they played in a larger whole. "Smells good, Mom," Ion added, trying to avoid having to over-explain herself. She loved her Mom but did not feel understood by her, as most teenagers feel once they reach a point of their development, but Ion was not privy to this fact. As educated and studious as she was, the social awareness was lacking. She couldn't put her finger on it, but even amongst a District of geeks and freaks, she had lost her sense of belonging.

Maybe this was why she felt so called to follow in her mother's footsteps. She pondered this as Mom called Coil and Copper to the table, placing a plate with a hefty omelet in front of each of them, and seating herself last.

The caffeine had started to kick in, and Ion could feel her bloodstream quickening and her heart thudding lightly against her chest. She was always curious about the human anatomy, studying people and the way their fingers connected to their palms and how their palms connected to their wrists and the wrists to the arms until there was a whole breathing and living person to observe, ponder, analyze, scoff at, or judge. Lately it had been a lot of judging it felt like. Ion was aware of this and how the death of her father had made her jaded. She was also well aware that tragedy and grief were no stranger to the other citizens of her District, or Panem at large, but still the emotion was there. That feeling of isolation when a loved one is lost, and of the rush of society still pushing on when to her the world should have stood still. It should have stopped. It should have rewound, in fact, to a time where Dad didn't have his accident. Yet there she was, sat at the kitchen table, knowing that even all these years in the future that time travel wasn't real and that Dad was really dead. She let out a sigh and used the side of her fork to cut a bite of her omelet. There were so many things wrong with the world, and Ion was just one person.

The omelet was delicious. It was cheesy, and hearty. The combination of mushrooms, tomatoes, spinach, and onion were divine. That didn't change the fact there was still an empty chair at the table. Looking at the space next to Mom where Dad would have sat this time a year earlier, perhaps she would have stopped at the flavor being great and went on with her day. She would have had some casual morning conversation, went on to school and then to her shift at the grocery afterwards, and went home to her parents and brothers. Left in the absence of her father, the flavor of the omelet was good, great even, but Ion couldn't help but notice that even through the salt and pepper she could taste the spice of heartache, of loss, and suddenly her appetite wasn't so large.

But Mom cooked this for her, and so she would finish it, go get ready for another day of school and work, and keep the feelings silent. Like she was supposed to. Like she was expected to.

She was eager for the cigarette she would smoke on the way to school, knowing good and well it wasn't a habit that Mom would approve of - despite the pack of cigarettes Mom smoked every day. It was a choice that Ion had committed to recently, one that gave her a sense of rebellion and freedom from the grip of her Mother and from the hold of Dad's loss. Somewhere in between inhales of smoke was an understanding she couldn't find anywhere else.

Several difficult bites later, she had finished her plate. "Shower time," Ion said with a sigh, taking her plate to the sink. As she approached the stairs that led to the bathroom across from her bedroom, she heard from behind her. "I'll see you at the store tonight, Ion! And do well at school! I don't want to see another exam like your last one. That was embarrassing. And I know you can do better."

"You got it, Mom." Ion replied. She didn't have the energy this morning to argue. She didn't want to open up the can of worms and let her Mom know how she was feeling. She felt smothered but she didn't know what other way she could go about life at that time. There weren't any other avenues in Ion's eyes other than the one her Mom had laid out for her. The closest things to friends she consistently had were the classmates she had in school, and even then, she managed to outcast herself to a point where no one had really ever offered to hang out beyond school hours. She always managed to make a fool of herself, to not understand the situation at hand, under or over analyzing. Ion let out a deep sigh and walked up the stairs, keeping her eye on the prize - the cigarette.