0 for 3 - district 8 train

I guess my house is just a fuckin' hostel now, huh? Ma' pulls me by my ear every fuckin' look I give the kid, saying that "he's family and you better fuck'n watch it you son of a bitch." You know what? "Son of a bitch" was correct. Spoken from that goddamn bitch herself. Who does she think she is, trying to tell me who's allowed in my home? Maybe if she weren't such a terrible mother, her son wouldn't have volunteered for the trauma that somehow feels more distant than her own.

So, last week, right. Here's some context. The Eyma side is always on the bad sides of a lot of people's radars. They just are - constantly getting in fights, bruised knuckles, wounds. It was never a shock growing up to hear that one of the Eyma's died. Mostly because there was a lot of them, too, it was like the rate of tributes dyin in a way. Anyway. Carter - some kid to one of Ma's closer cousins showed up at the victors village. His parents were killed and I guess they always told him Morriah was the best place to go to. We don't live at home anymore, so I guess the kid decided to show up.

Ma didn't give me a choice, so he's been staying in one of the many empty guest rooms. It's been nicer to have a third body, but I am in no spot to raise a child. I can't even keep one alive, based on my past four years. Speaking of which, it's time to fail again.

The Reapign wasn't exactly... exciting, but there were a few pushes and shoves which made it interesting to see. Neither of them keep a strong impression, but the name Garnet rang a bell. He must have been the boy that sent me a letter a few weeks ago - somethin' about how me winning helped him. It was cute, but I never thought much about it. But now he's here, in my very fate four years ago.

Something tells me he doesn't have it in him, though.

I exit my personal carriage to enter the central cart, which neither have entered. Being able to get to the Capitol is a nice excuse to avoid what is my own damn mothers' mansion. The door opens as a small splash of alcohol enters my glass, which permits me to turn around and raise it toward the tribute. "Theo." Making the purple hued leather seat my spot, I took a sat. "How are you feeling?"