baisden laramie | d9 cbd3 fin

In another life, I think I might have been a professional dancer, moving to the winds that make blades of grass plier and tides that make the ocean step on relever and fall back with grace. Maybe then, I might be able to forgive the turbulence within my family. Dad cooks for the Peacekeepers in their quarters as work, something that the rest of my family could never forgive him for.

They don't respect us, Ma told him, they preside over us. That's why the Capitol brought them here. It's disheartening to have to agree with her in silence, but I'm not yet brave enough to take one parent's side over the other. The moment you take Ma's side, Dad's convinced you have some grudge against him. My parents stick together out of convenience to take care of my younger siblings and I, but once we're all gone and moved out, I'm not so sure they will stay that way.

Everyone I know calls me graceful, take it or leave it. I'll give you my all or nothing, there's not much in between. The world we live in dictates it. District Nine, especially since the Peacekeepers moved in, has been cut-throat. Conflict between citizen and Peacekeeper is killed or be killed, metaphorically speaking. So I choose my battles wisely, and I know when to drop them before they come back to bite me.

A dancer knows a million steps and millions more of them in combination. In another world, I might've used them for joy, but in these treacherous times, I flow to survive.