Only the Good Die Young // {Brooklyn}

[47554C] [A1A5A2] [707B74]

"Please don't do that!" His voice echoes in the alley way, my nose practically smelling the fear of the boy. His eyes were clenched tightly together, his hands thrown up in front of his face as if they could protect him. Really though, against my fist, his hands would do nothing. "Then leave him alone, you brat." You see, this wasn't a normal situation. I usually just bully kids when I'm around my friends, showing off that I could make their days shitty just to make mine better. However, this case was definitely different. Threats and jokes about Harlem are rare as most people can usually understand that he's different. But then there are some morons who, well, remind me of myself. They just pick on people who are easy to be picked on, all because they think it makes them cool.

But it's only going to get this kid a black eye. The noise is fairly dull as my fist collides and I immediately let go of him, watching the little boy drop to the ground. "I know where to find you." And it was true. If I wanted to find the kid, I just had to check with his friends by throwing a little threat here or a little threat there. With that, I turn around and walk off, my boots making clicking noises as they hit the stone walkway. I didn't care if the kid was checking me out or anything. Although, that would be pretty weird. He just got his ass kicked by me. But you could never put anything past pubescent kids. I flip my hair, walking with my chin held high and my hips almost bobbing back and forth. You know what, I just didn't care what was going to happen today. Even if it was the start of the Hunger Games.

Arriving in the Square just in time, I quickly grabbed a chair in hopes of watching the first few kills. I mean, it was sick, yeah. Killing people for entertainment wasn't exactly the sanest thing in the world. What happened to game shows and reality tv? Who knows. Now, this was the closest thing we had to anything interesting. It was fun to watch people react in tense situations, watching them throw away their humanity just for a chance at life. Those few usually died. The crazy ones weren't capable of thinking rationally by that point. Usually. It was fun to watch though. Not the parts where somebody was split open in seven different ways. I preferred to look away when somebody's dead body was shown. It didn't make me sick. I was just afraid of the day when Harlem would be the same way.

That's why I bullied. Yeah, probably a bad reason. I just wanted to keep Harlem safe from the world. It was already cruel enough to him, he didn't need more cruelty in his life. Not at all. That's why I practically studied the Games too. I didn't care if I was afraid of dying or not competent enough to fight in the Games, I wanted to do it for Harlem. He'd have nobody if I died but he'd have nobody when he died too. The only way we both could live would be if I won the Games. And you can't win without trying. My eyes were locked on the screen as somebody dropped dead thanks to a female, the one from 12. She had received such a high score. Really, she didn't look like she could have received such a score. But then again, most people don't expect me to be a bully and here I was.

And suddenly, I see the hand of a girl, waving me over towards the chair beside her. My jaw clenches as I get to my feet. Why did she want me beside her again? Was there really a point to going? I mean, I was trying to focus on the Games that were before me. After all, next year, I was ready to volunteer no matter what the cost. Perhaps it was a good idea though. I could either make a friend or discuss good strategy. Either one was good. I clear my throat as I make my way over, squeezing past an elderly man who looked at me just a little too weird, and then I sat in the chair beside her. She was beautiful. Absolutely stunning. I had always wished to be pretty, ever since I was little. People say I am but really, I can never see it. But this girl, she was gorgeous. I smile wide and put my hand forward. "Hello there, I'm Brooklyn."

[47554C] [A1A5A2] [707B74]

Duchess? Wow, who names their child Duchess. That's kind of weird. But hey, that's what one kid said about my brother and I. He thought that Brooklyn and Harlem were stupid names and that only stupid parents would pick them. Now he's probably only thinking about how much his nose hurts and how much blood he has to get out of his shirt. It wasn't the insult towards me that mattered. As soon as his stupid little mouth opened up about my brother, there was no way I would just sit around and let him get away with it. That's just how I lived life. Nobody hurt Harlem. He had enough to deal with. But this Duchess girl. I mean, yeah, her name was different. It wasn't normal. But she was just like me. Duchess and I were similar whether we liked it or not. Whether I liked it or not.

"Thanks for saving me from sitting beside some creep." I giggled as I leaned back, looking up towards the screen. I guess I meant that. It would be a lot better than sitting beside some greasy guy who was sweaty and gross and stuff. Who wanted to sit beside something as disgusting as that? Duchess was a lot better. She was beautiful. She smelled nice. She was clean. And she actually seemed to be interesting enough to talk to, as long as she didn't act like an idiot. But then she asked if she had seen me around the training center. Well obviously. I'm always there. But she didn't know that. She wouldn't know unless I told her. "I'm, like, always there. You never know, I could be standing on the stage next. Might as well be prepared, right?"

Which was true. I wanted to be ready so I could volunteer and then I could get the money that Harlem needed for his surgery. Then I wouldn't have to worry about waking up and finding out that he died. That was my worst fear. I loved him more than anything and it would be horrible to have that love ripped away from me without considering how badly it would affect me. "How about you?" I asked quietly, peering up at the screen as another body dropped to the ground. Death. More and more of it. That's all we'd ever know. Nothing else would be certain except for death. And I couldn't just let Harlem's happen without trying to stop it. No, that's not what you do for your loved ones. You keep fighting and keep trying because you love them. And if talking to this girl meant making a friend, it would also mean I could train with her. And then I'd get better.

And then I could save Harlem from life. Cause everybody knows that life sucks.