Flare```[OPEN]

<><> Lily Tanners - Who am I?

My eyes ache. I don't know why, but it seems that my eyes never want to open, like I am never supposed to see. But everyday I force them open and force myself to sit up in my bed and force myself to think and force myself to at least attempt to brush my hair and take a shower. But the world seems so dark and empty even when the sun shines through the shutters in my room or children laugh in the street or birds twitter their songs through my window. Even on those days, it is still dark. It sometimes makes you wonder if you are dead with it being so dark everyday. And then when you feel pain and bleed red like the rest of the world you wonder if maybe it is a nightmare. And then when you remember waking up and find that you still live in a place called Panem where all you here about and the Hunger Games and all the previous victors you know that you are still alive. I am still alive. Sadly.

The carpet on my bedroom floor somewhat soothes me when my feet press against it. But only somewhat. I walk to the mirror, wishing that somehow I could avoid what I would see there. But when I glance into the mirror, it is still me. Not a monster, but close enough to it. I rub my eyes, hoping that maybe today I could change my appearance enough that I wouldn't have to deal with my brother all day. But nothing changes. I still look like her enough that my brother will think I'm her, just like he does every single day. I reach down and open the cabinet beneath my mirror. Pictures of multiple different models with different colored hair smile at me, their unnatural skin tones making them look sick rather than appealing - at least to me - and everyone of them seems to be screaming at me to try them out. But I can only hear my father screaming, feel his fist clamped on my hair ... I slam the cupboard shut and spin on my heals in anger. It takes me a few seconds to realize that my fists are clenched and as I reach the door I make sure to loosen up. I feel myself give a heavy sigh. But at what? I have been doing this shit for so long, you'd think I would be used to it by now. But my frustration is unmistakable and by the time I reach up for the doorknob, I feel my face growing hot and eyes flooding with liquid. As I twist the doorknob I make sure to wipe away any sign of weakness from my face. No one cares anyway.

I am immediately hit in the face by the familiar smell of alcohol. I am tempted to cough and splutter, but then I remember that I am used to the smell, that its familiarity has a sort of soothing effect on me. The living room looks as it usually does, if not worse. Cups and bottles scattered everywhere, the occasional stain in the white carpet, and of course, my dad laying face down on the couch. His snoring is enough to piss you off, as if the smell of him wasn't enough. As I walk by, I have the slightest temptation to spit in his face, to wake him from his stupor - But then I remember a little fact. He scares me. I walk past him, into the kitchen, and then upstairs to my brothers room. I open the door, trying not to cause the hinges to squeak and pray that he is still asleep. I see him turned over in bed, his arms flailing across the bed. So innocent, so hard to hate. I close the door again, not wanting my day to start just yet. Maybe - just maybe - if I let him dream and sleep a little bit longer, I can walk in his room and be his sister. But everyday that flare of hope I get when he opens his eyes diminishes and is crushed. Everyday.

I run back down to my room and dress myself in clothes that hide my bruises and lumps and make me look somewhat normal. As I walk back into the living room, I can't help but notice my dad - not there. I look around, frantic and hoping that he is still passed out or at least disoriented enough to not care what I do. But before I can find him, my urges to leave the house are too great and before I realize it, I am outside. District 2. I walk down the streets, trying to keep myself from looking to dazed, confused, worried, or overjoyed for that matter because I fear being caught by someone and asked useless questions. Like my name. How do I answer a question like that?

Lily Tanners or Lethe Turner?

My eyes flicker up and down the streets. So many people going to work or going to school or chatting with friends ... I don't have that. I feel like a black sheep in the crowd of white sheep. Actually, I feel like the black sheep in the crowd of pure white bulls. I haven't been to school in so long and I don't think I ever really had friends and everyone around me seems to have a mission and goal for the day; Whether that goal is to be the Capitol's perfect pet or just live through the day without attempting suicide I'm not exactly sure. But they all seem to be aiming for something, where as I am wandering aimlessly through the sea of white bulls unable to think of what to do. The sun, the lights, the gleaming streets - Overwhelming for someone who has been basically trapped in a cell for ... What has it been now? Years?

Damn ... What can a girl like me do?