Apeture "Petey" Nikon-- District 3

Minute detail. I used to be able to tell you everything about my looks in fine detail. The slight wavy of my hair after it was just washed. The pin straightness of it once I'd let it dry. How I used to dye it colors from black to nearly why with the chemicals from work. I might tell you about my skin and how pale it was.Nearly transparent under the buzzing lights in the studio. You could see the blood flowing through the veins and arteries under its thin cover. But not anymore. I could tell you just how blue my eyes were, the paleness in them that sometimes would be unnerving as they faded to almost white. But with them I could see the world. I could see more than just colors and people and lightness and shade. I could see a world of beauty.

I don't know anymore though. For all I can see my hair is blue with rainbow sprinkles adorning it. I could have grease smudged across my broad nose without even knowing. And it still hurts. The small burn marks are starting to heal around my eyes, I can feel their scabs and crust as I run my fingers over them trying to get something anything to focus. But it never does. Instead I just feel the think padding of my nose. My high cheek bones, thin lips. Their colors once so vivid in my mind are just distant memories.

I can tell you the simple things now. I'm still as tall as ever, 5 foot 11 inches tall, and just as thin, as before the accident. My feet are long and narrow, the toes a little crooked on my left foot from dropping a old camera on it. My hands are surprisingly smooth even with all the work I do in the darkroom. Tongs and Gloves are a must. I learned my lesson about working with toxic things. They're not toys. Not to be taken lightly.

You'd think someone who grew up in the studio would've been a little more careful. The bottles labeled with the skull and cross bones, big warning signs, DANGER!. Yet, I was a flitting butterfly, talking too much, listening too little. Dreaming of far off places, me and my camera taking pictures of the Ocean or the Dessert. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Even as a child I couldn't sit still, always fidgeting, always moving trying to find something new to hold my attention. Photography did.

School wasn't the best for me, the teachers couldn't figure out why I couldn't focus. I couldn't figure out why they wouldn't let me just do what I want. Its not like I was hurting anyone My fingers would always tap incessant melodies against the desks, people called it annoying, but I didn't even know I was doing it. It was like that til Momma put a camera in my hands. Then the world would stand still. Oh Then, I was in charge.

I try to be helpful at the studio, sometimes photographing the clothing samples we get to send for the Capitol Magazines to run, I've even been known to try them on and use myself as a selling point. Not anymore though. No point for me to do it, I can't even see to button my shirts. Instead I just flutter around aimlessly, hoping my wings haven't been clipped too close. Sometimes Momma will still let me deal with the front desk, making sure everything is exactly where it should be before I can sit on the stool and talk to the customers and answer questions. I know it makes them uncomfortable though. Even if I can't see it, I still feel their eyes on me. The little brown splotches covering my eyes a constant reminder that things are different now.

Its not like I meant for the accident to happen. Who ever means for accidents to happen? I was setting up the dark room, just like every other day, it wasn't something new in the routine. Inspecting the walls to make sure no cracks had formed, letting light into our little hole, pulling out the tubs and washing them so that there was no residue from the day before...getting out the bottles from their shelf, each one closed tight, but that's when it all went wrong.

As I was pouring the Silver Nitrate solution I heard a crack. That sound will haunt me the rest of my life. It all happened in slow motion. I knew I should've been wearing goggles, but it was still so early...I saw the shelf falling, my arms reached out to stop it. Why I didn't cover my face I'll never know...I was just too slow. For once in my life I didn't move enough. The plastic tub in front of me was already half full, I don't know why I took my time...There was a crash as the shelf hit the counter below it. I saw the splash. It was the last thing I'll ever see. and then there was nothing but screams and pain.

Two weeks ago I everything in my world changed. I'm not caged by the District anymore, by The Games, by Panem...I'm caught inside myself. My world just a jumbled mess of blurs and swirls. I don't know how I"ll get through this. I don't know if I want to. Most of my time is spent hiding in my room, trying to figure out a way to just feel right again. How can you photograph the world, when its no longer in focus.