Arwen - District Five

Words speak louder than actions, they say. That's only because actions can't talk. If they could, they would be muffled and unsure, only protecting you as far as your arms can stretch. Only striking out so far. Not words, though. Words can roll across oceans, reaping destruction at the slightest whisper. A word spoken by President Snow in the Capitol can end god knows how many lives, no questions asked. A single utterance can bring ruin someones life in seconds.

It was like that for me. If someone has struck out at me with all the force they could muster, again and again until the end of time, I would never feel so much pain as I did when that single word fell from the doctors lips.

"Dead."

The power that one word had was enough to destroy my life. To destroy me. To rip my every thought from it's roots and make it cease to matter. There was no way such power could ever be felt in a single action. No blow could be so heavy as to tear apart my heart and my mind and my past and my future all at once. There was no way of fixing me; all that was left to do was to push it away. Pretend I don't care. Hey, my entire family disappeared all in a moment. No big deal.

Hey, I've been shipped off to some old care home, where the only person who's job it is to care left her mind long ago. Where the only people responsible enough to be responsible for me are children themselves. Not a problem at all. Who cares if I'm broken inside, on the verge of self destruction and dangerously angry at the Capitol? Nobody. Not a single person in this place cares enough to bother with me. I'm just not worth it. Nobody wants their head bitten off, after all. It's much too much effort for everyone I meet; that is, everyone but Silas.

I don't know how he puts up with me. I know I wouldn't put up with me, if I where him. I'd avoid me like the plague, because who actually wants to talk to the snarky, sarcastic girl sulking about her life? Not me. I'd rather listen to the freaking voices in my head.

My parents where perfect. I was the eldest, yet they never let me feel as though the kids where my responsibility. My mother brushed my long, blonde hair and told me I was pretty. My father pointed out how we both had the same small blue eyes, the same snow-white skin. My sisters where all mini versions of myself - five of them, all with white blonde waves and downturned lips, mimicking my every move with delight. I adored them all, Athetha, Alice, Arania, Abigail and Anna. I looked after them, even though I didn't have to. I brushed their hair and played dutifully with their dolls and dressed them up pretty each reaping day. They begged for their turn.

I loved the boys, too. There where four of them, Aaron, Angus, Avid and Artimus. I spent time with each of them, too. Swinging them high when they asked, dragging combs through their unruly curls. I carved little toys for them from wood, and told them stories of pirates and elves and dragons at bedtime.

As deeply as I loved my siblings once, they are no more. Not even little Anna, who, when she was three, I promised I would never let anything bad happen to during one of her nightmares. I lied. Bad things can happen to blonde-haired, blue eyed little cherubs.

They can be overcome by a terrible fever. Shudder violently all night. Cry in their sleep, tossing and turning in a waking nightmare. Die by morning. Have a doctor lean over their body and proclaim them dead, and look back at you with empty eyes.

Have you ever lost eleven family members in a day? I have.

Apparently, this can happen to anyone. Anyone except for me, of course. Why could I not have just died with the rest of them, joined them in the Capitol, or wherever else you go next?

Instead, I have the worst sentence of all. A fate not really worth living. Waking up in the morning broken. Going through my day pretending not to care. Going to bed broken.

The nightmares come too, but compared to the reality they are a relief.