To speak of little brothers [ Mylee ]

]Nothing hurts more then no love, no love from your parents. When you hear them whisper they don’t want you as you go out it. It hurts you, a lot. Just like it did to me. This morning, a silent morning with the buzz of incest’s and I walk to the door to hear my parents arguing. Arguing about how their food supplies is low, and they can only afford to feed two. Just them, not me. Haven Everit, ignored by her own parents. What a great life.

Part of me urns to run away, to not be with them anymore. But I can’t, they don’t love me I know that but they give me shelter and food. Something that is needed to survive, something I would not be able to scrap up due to no money and people here don’t waste. The only thing you see in trash is, trash. Not the luxuries of food that anyone could eat. Even if you are full ( which hardly anyone is around here ) You eat the food you are given. Living in a low districts sucks.

So here I am walking along the dusty road and blazing sun, wondering when I am going to drop dead for the heat and let the files take over my body. Smelling the sweat of people as they flutter by me, eager to find shade. With everything happening now, the reaping coming up soon people are scrambling to get tessera. Its basically what I live off each year, and I can’t help wondering if it’s a hint. My parents wanted me to hear them say that, to urge me to get even more tessera then I usually do. They should just let me take all the tessera because that is how much I basically take.

Should I be more scared this year then last? Yes I should, more tessera just means more chances for me to die. Last year both of our tributes died, it was painful to watch. I was watching it with my parents and I could almost feel their eyes narrow into my back, thinking. “Oh how I wish it was our girl who died.” I’m not kidding, I am a failure in their eyes. An unwanted child that came with their stupid minds that caused it! And they expect me to apologize!

But here I am being carried away and I know if that was ever said out loud to them, it would be a boot out the door. And would use that as a reason when a peacekeepers drags me back home and asks what their child is doing out. Speaking of children, my eyes spy a small boy sitting along splintered fulled bench placed right under a thin blanket of shade. I need someone to talk to and the boy sitting there seems just like the prefect person to rant out too.

“May I sit here?” I ask him, taking a seat anyways even if his answer is no. “I am having such a bad day, its just such a horrible day.” I feel too rude by who won’t when they have clearly been disowned with their parents, and have no more love.