escape from reality [zharkus--open]

That question was one I didn't even know if I could answer honestly. I'd heard too many different stories from too many different people to know which was really the truth. I wasn't even sure if what I'd read in her diaries... The only books my father kept hidden, were true. Then again, if someone had taken the time to edit it, they surely would've changed what I had found written in its pages.

"She left to do what I want to but can't bring myself to. She left to find rebels against the Capitol." I was aware now of the nature of this conversation, so I made sure to check our surroundings as I spoke. Surely, it wouldn't be a death sentence if they knew I was related to a rebel. There was a possibility of an investigation however, to determine whether or not my father and I were receiving information from my mother. Even though we weren't, the risk wasn't worth it.

"My father had told me she ran off with someone else... I found her diaries a few years later, hidden in his bedroom. Her last entry detailed what she had really done." I sigh at the thought of my father lying to me... Even if it was for protection. "I'd hate her for leaving if I didn't respect her choice. I considered it myself after Rella's death. Grabbing my belongings and her diaries and trying to track her down, see if she's still out there."

I stare back up at the sky, now turning clear, dry blue, and remembered my earlier statement. The sun was coming out. It always would. I'd find my way there eventually.

I looked down at my hands and pondered my answer. My hands. I never really realized how strong my hands seemed. They were calloused with the years of work I had done with them. Scarred. Powerful. I'd rebuilt the roof of our house after the storm with these hands, I could lead fields of sheep, move bales of hay. I owed all of these abilities to-

"My father." I reply finally. "He's already lost his wife and daughter. I couldn't let myself be another lost family member, even for the sake of finding my mother." I knew what it felt like to lose Rella. I knew the anger I felt at being abandoned by my mother, even though I was barely older than three when she left. Imagine what that must've been like for my father...

He'd lost the same two people, but it meant something very different for him than for me. He lost his love, the mother of his children to a rebellion that may or may not have even existed. Her desire to fight the Capitol was stronger than her desire to stay and raise her children... To stay with him. Then there was Rella... Rella, who'd looked just like the pictures of my mother that my father kept by his bedside. He lost not only a child to those bloody games, he lost the last living shred of my mother.

"I could never choose to put that pain on him again." Okay... That was enough of my life. I'd given her truthful answers, borne of a trust that had formed faster than I'd been prepared for. Time to earn back some answers from her."So, we both know you've left out a few points from your story. Have I earned your stamp of approval yet?"

As I waited for an answer, I could see she was still reluctant to tell me about what she'd been through... But she also seemed to be at the very least considering it, which meant there was a chance.

As if to help my cause, the sun was out in full now, its beams piercing the soggy darkness that had worn itself thin in the sky. No matter how much I wished to remain dark-faced, encased in my anger, I couldn't help but smile at the light I stared at the clearing sky, taking uncharacteristic delight in the battle between sun and cloud- a battle the sun was definitely winning. As I stared, I could see Ash shifting around out of the corner of my eye, and I turned my head toward her.

Ash was removing her vibrant hoodie, revealing the subdued shirt underneath. She hadn't lied, apart from the sweatshirt she was dressed just like anyone else in the District. After a few seconds of readjusting, she rolled up the shoulder of her sleeve, revealing a series of scars.

"What do you make of these scars?" Now that she mentioned it, there was something odd about these scars. They weren't lash marks, I was sure of that. They weren't uniform enough for a whipping. They were also inconsistent, in single slashes at a time. Nothing like what an animal would do in an attack...

"What did this to you?" I ask her, unable to think of any other possible culprits.

Her mother. Her mother had scarred her so viciously. I couldn't wrap my mind around her explanation, it just didn't click. I had spent nearly my entire life wondering what being raised with my mother would've been like. Never, even in my darkest thoughts did I think she would do anything to the extent of what I just saw on Ash's shoulder. How could I? I'd only known my father, and he was the kindest man I'd ever known, so I'd assumed it was part of the parenting deal- once you had kids you knew how to care for them, how to keep them safe. How wrong could I have been?

I suddenly found my story cruel. Here I was, speaking on and on about how I'd missed out on having my mother in my life, how I was ready to leave home to track her down... When she would very likely have happily traded a life with her mother away. As a matter of fact, that's exactly what she'd done. My words ran dry, stunned silent by the truth Ash had finally revealed. I pushed too hard, tried to glean too much.

"I'm so sorry." I finally say. This time my condolences feel insufficient, inconsequential. I could do nothing to help her. The scars she'd revealed would never fully fade. I could never handle that, being haunted forever by a past that showed even on my skin. I prayed to be free of that, knowing it was in vain, I was already ensnared in my own past.

I shake off my self-pity. I could mend my mother issues. I would. For her, her past was all she'd get. That's when it sinks in... Empathy. Something I so rarely felt these days. Could Ash and I actually be- "Friends." I accidentally say out loud. I quickly mend my outburst, "That is, if you're alright with that."

Wasn't her fault? How could Ash's mother have scarred her daughter by accident? Ash held no blame against her mother, and in a way that had me completely baffled. I ran my fingers through the wet grass, thinking on how this made any sense. Then it hit me. Why my story wasn't offensive to her. Why it wasn't her mother's fault.

We had the same mother. Not literally, of course, but more or less in the way they acted. Both were married women with two children who were unable to cope with the hand life had dealt them. In the end, I didn't blame my mother for her choices, so I guess that that would explain why Ash didn't blame hers. In this world, both of them could've been so much worse. Tortured by a mother you thought you knew or by one who was never in your life at all, people in Panem had stories much more painful and in a lot of cases fatal. We, however, were still here. "No, I guess in a way it's not." I say, though my voice still clearly showed that I was uncomfortable with this conclusion- How someone could cause such pain and walk away blameless.

I had one last question, something that was bugging me in the back of my head since I confessed I had thought about doing so. "Would you ever run? Just leave this behind." I ask, gesturing to the street in front of us.

She wouldn't. No, of course not, she'd been through enough already. My question suddenly seemed stupid; I would not run, and I had something I could possibly gain if I left. Ash had nothing to gain, just a brother to lose. Nonetheless... to never feel like you could leave? And where was there to go? "The woods... The sea. District Thirteen." I listed off the only options I could think of... None too positive. Each location was illegal, punishable by death if you got caught.

Not to mention the survival skills required to live successfully in any of these locations. I didn't know how to hunt, or fish, or build a sufficient shelter, fight of tracker jackers or whatever other horrifying muttations the Capitol may have lurking in the corners of the wild to keep District citizens in line. Staying held its own share of dangers that had to be considered. Peacekeepers, being constantly watched by the Capitol, and on a yearly basis being subjected to those bloody Games. What was the worse of the two evils though? Surely the blatant danger of the Districts would be safer than the random dangers that would be faced in the wilds of Panem.

...Right?

"If I lost my father, I'd go." I admit before I can hold the thought in. It was true. With my father gone, I'd have nothing to keep me in the district. The Sheep weren't friends of mine, I would have no regrets in abandoning them. I would execute the plan I'd abandoned. Pack up some clothes, whatever food I could carry and my mother's diaries and just leave.