to the stars { shrimp }

Pressing my knees against my temples, I stifle the sobs that threaten to break through at any given moment. I will cry. But not here. Not now, in front of all of these people, when I have worked so hard to gain the reputation of someone who doesn't give a shit about life and what it dishes out to her.

This time I have bitten off more than I can chew.

It had been a particularly grueling day at the factory today, but what was I to expect from people who seemed to hate even the looks of me. I've never seen so many people glare at me in that way. With a coldness in their eyes that burns into my soul.

What have I done wrong?

Inside I know what I did, understand why these people disliked me the minute I put on those dreary coveralls and started to work fashining knives and guns for the Peacekeepers. I had stolen from their work space, and many employees had taken it personally when they found out I was only working alongside them as a punishment, that I had done something foul to upset their boss. And to them, that was bad enough.

Sitting on the stairs of the Justice Building, almost everyone ignores me, the square still fairly busy even at this late hour. People rush into little shops arching around the big building, late-night laborers laughing and joking as they make their way to the diner, leaving a trail of grime on their way. We aren't too poor. But we struggle more than District One and Two, who seem to have everything handed to them by the Capitol. I've wondered for a while if this is why the victor of the Games is almost always from those districts. If maybe the Gamemakers have tipped the odds to be in their favor entirely.

That doesn't explain the three victors from District Twelve.

But I don't have enough energy to fret over such things for long. Sighing, I lean back, the concrete edges of the steps digging into the flesh on my back.

The stars are beautiful tonight.

ooc; dunno what happened here. not much muse for cassandra, but i hope you can get some use from it. :\