Beautiful [Nofo]

My timing had always been terrible, I knew and respected that. The moment I realized that was the moment I vowed to never fall in love. When I began to speak, my father died. When I began to feel something besides hate for Xavier, he died. This time is no different. Love is terrible, because in the end, people always leave. They leave one way or another. It has happened twice, what would make this any different. It’d be my luck to be reaped today, or even worse, York would. Never, I told myself. But, sometimes, you can break promises to anyone, even yourself. I would know, because I did. I realized that a couple weeks ago, when I fell in love with a boy I barely knew. He’d never feel the same way, and I realized that. I didn’t care though, because I wasn’t meant to be happy. A girl with one leg never could be.

I woke up in dread this morning, because it’s Reaping Day, and it’s never fun. Two people are leaving this district today, and at least one of them will return in a body bag. To me, both will die in that arena. If we get a victor again, they won’t come back completely. They lose part of themselves in there, I know it. I compare the interviews before the Games and after, and I always notice the same thing. The victors lose hope, the hope that someday, the world will be better. I don’t know how I know this, because I never had hope, but I know that I’m dead. Everyone without hope is dead, because without hope, we are nothing. I am nothing but a girl with a pathetic prosthetic leg. I don’t deserve happiness, I will never get it. Pure happiness, I mean, because I guess I know what happy is. I feel it sometimes.

Times like when my dog, Tony, crawls into bed with me. I’m happy, then, but I can never escape the feeling that something is missing. Happiness is the feeling of being complete, and that’s not how I feel. Not at all, because I’m being punished. I must be being punished for a crime I didn’t commit, whoever decided my fate must have chosen the wrong soul. Maybe death is the only option, but I’m needed. I know that I’m needed, so suicide isn’t an option. I would never choose death, because having choices is my happiness. I love freedom, but I don’t see it much. No one does, not in District One.

I have a choice now, I just heard a knock. I can go down and open the door, or I can stay in my room, avoiding Reaping Day. That’s not an option though, because I’d be dead as a result. I have to pop out of bed, I absolutely have to.

I take my feet off of the frilly blanket that drapes my King sized bed. I love a big bed, because I never sleep well, I have nightmares almost every night. My nightmares are usually the same. I’m in front of two dark silhouettes, which I can’t make out. I have a choice, freedom, but I always choose the silhouette that masks Xavier. I make wrong choices, I fuck up, I always do. I put my feet on the white carpet to walk to the door. It’s so simple, and so uniform, but I always take the same pathway to the door. I guess you could call it an OCD, because I’m afraid that the change would kill me. If I had my way, life could be the same every day, so I would always know what to expect. It’s not though, but I go the same way anyway, turning the golden knob slowly.

I want to savor every moment before I walk to the District Square with my mother, so I take a good moment to get down the stairs. I can already make York out through the glass door, and I’m not looking forward to talking to him. He’s screaming, so it must be important. I can’t make myself do otherwise, so I rush to open the door for him.

“York?” I say, concern breaking through in my voice. “Is everything alright?”

Of course it isn’t, he wouldn’t be here so early if it weren’t.

The moment I opened the door, York pushed me out of the way, rushing inside. Definitely important. But, did he have to bruise me in the process? I smiled encouragingly at him, because something was definitely bothering him, and I didn’t want to make him upset. I walk to the staircase, where I can get a view of my mother’s room, just to make sure the screaming didn’t wake her up. There’s no movement upstairs, so she must still be asleep. It’s probably best to let her sleep, plus York wants to talk. I guess it’s important to talk about whatever it is.

He walks to the living room, so I sit in the couch close by. He’s pacing back and forth, it’s kind of creeping me out, because it’s Reaping Day. Nothing good ever happens on Reaping Day. I can’t smile anymore, and I know the worry must be showing on my face. He opens his mouth to speak, and I already know what he’s going to say.

"I'm volunteering, Edana. I know you're pissed at me and don't want anything to do with me, but you're the only person I can trust. Is there someplace private we can go?"

God, I knew it. People always leave, York is no different. I’m full on frowning right now. This wasn’t part of the plan. York was not supposed to leave. I wanted him to be the one that changed things. I wanted him to be my hope. My hope is gone, and so am I.

I shake my head and force myself to my feet. I find myself yelling at him. “No! You aren’t going into the Games. Twenty-three people have to die out there, all of them will be willing to kill you the second they can. If you volunteer, so will I.”

I can feel the tears streaming down my face. No tears, not for the boy who leaves. I rub them from my eyes and wait for him to go.