Matilda Llewellyn, District 2

Matilda Llewellyn, District 2 Sept 29, 2011 20:01:15 GMT -5

Post by Tea on Sept 29, 2011 20:01:15 GMT -5

Matilda Llewellyn
Fifteen
Female
District 2
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where are we?
what the hell is going on?
the dust has only just begun to form
crop circles in the carpet
sinking feeling

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You’re not my Kit.

Tell me then. Who are you? You hold similarities with her. Similar features. Similar hair colour. Similar eyes.

You must be Matilda.

My Kit was always taller than you were. You cannot be more than five feet tall. Five feet and four inches. Even then, you have grown, little girl. You used to be so much smaller – thinner too. But that was a long time ago wasn’t it? Look at you now. You’re a career, aren’t you? Yes. I can tell. You’re body is muscular and toned; bronzed from all the time you’ve spent in the sun, training. Do you like to run, little girl? My Kit liked to run, but I do not think you enjoy it nearly as much, for your legs are not nearly as prominent as hers were. Although she makes you run, doesn’t she?

Poor little girl.

What other things does she make you do? Do you spend hours at the Training Centre? Oh, I bet you do. You can tell me, little girl, you can tell me anything. Even if you don’t, I can still read your thoughts. It’s your eyes little girl, they betray everything, and a career cannot afford to be vulnerable in that way. It really is strange for me to see all your hidden emotion in your eyes, for their blue hue is the same as my Kit’s, but hers show nothing. My Kit was merciless. My Kit was the perfect career.

But you are not my Kit, are you little girl? No. No you’re not. Your hair is a lighter brown, and its longer too, isn’t it? Do you wear it that way to differentiate yourself from your elder sister? I think you do. I think you want to be your own person, but at the same time, I think you want to be like my Kit. You want to make us proud, don’t you? Mm, but you don’t know how, do you little girl? No, of course you don’t, because if you did, you would have become her by now.

spin me round again
and rub my eyes
this can’t be happening
when busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy
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Who is Matilda then, if she is not my Kit?

Tell me little girl, are you shy? Do you like to spend hours by yourself, shut away in your room? I know you do. You don’t have to tell me anything. You hate large crowds, and hate the Training Centre more than anything because you have to face all those people. But my Kit still makes you go there, doesn’t she? She doesn’t care that the very thought of being surrounded by people makes you go weak at the knees. No, my Kit isn’t very understanding, is she? You’re afraid of her. I know you are, and you’re too weak to stand up for what you believe in.

How can that be, little girl?

Are you not a career? Do you not prepare yourself each and every day for the Reaping, and the chance that you will be given the chance to prove your worth in the Arena? And yet, you are too afraid to stand up to your elder sister. It’s a very interesting problem that you have, little girl. It amuses me, although I suppose you wouldn’t think it’s amusing. No, you don’t have a sense of humour. Everything is a serious matter to you. Is that because you grew up without a father? Without me? Or because you were left to my Kit? Even though you may not realize it, little girl, my Kit does care for you. You’re her only sister, and she only wants what is best for you. Her idea of best simply happens to be the victor of the Hunger Games, but I know you won’t believe me. You won’t believe a word of any positive light I’ve shone on my Kit because you are very hesitant to trust – especially those whom you have never met before.

I suppose that is a good thing, little girl, but you can trust me. I’m not going to hurt you. I know you’ve been hurt so many times in your life, and built up walls because of it, but I would never hurt you. Perhaps I did once, but that was so long ago, we may as well forget it ever happened. But you won’t. You won’t ever forget. You cling to the negative things in life, little girl, and I only wish you would stop. It‘s so very unhealthy.

Perhaps though, because we’ve come to focus on the negative, and you tend to revert back to those things, we should touch on the positive. Would you like that? Yes. Yes, I know you would, for you crave praise. You’re like a dog, aren’t you, waiting to lap the dust from the heels of whomever will pay you attention. That isn’t a positive characteristic, is it? Oh, no, of course it isn’t. Forgive me. I did say we were to revert to the positive.

You’re smart, little girl. You’re so very smart, and I’m proud of you for it. You think your smarts may have been wasted on your training, but that is where you’re wrong. Your teachers at school understand your intelligence, little girl. They will continue to mould your mind until it has become what you think it should be; until you turn eighteen and are no longer eligible for the Games. Career training does not last forever, you know, and each person must find something to do after that time is over. I’ll tell you a secret, little girl, but you mustn’t never let my Kit know you’ve discovered this. Do you promise? Yes. I knew you would. See, when my Kit attended her final Reaping, and another girl’s name was drawn from the bowl, she panicked. All her life, she had spent every bit of energy on training, and nothing else. There was nothing for her to do with her life; nothing that she knew. But not you, little girl. You work well with your hands. You like to solve problems, and see how things work. I suppose those are not the best qualities to have in a mining district, but knowing you, little girl, you will find a way to make them work.

hide and seek
trains and sewing machines
all those years
they were here first
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Do you know then, why you are who you are, little girl? We’ve been through the things that make you Matilda, and not my Kit, but I suppose you do not know why you are that way. It’s alright, little girl. I never expected you to be aware of things that happened before your time. My Kit, surely, did not tell you. I could not have, for you would have been too young to understand. But don’t worry, little girl. I believe that you’re old enough now, to know the truth.

See, you did have a father. I know that he was never in your life, and you never heard much about him, but everyone has a father, even if they are never introduced to him. You father was called Godfrey Praeses, a peacekeeper in District Two. He was twelve years older than I was, and when we met, he was thirty, and I had only just turned eighteen. How did we meet, I’m sure you’re wondering. Well. I will admit that I was not always the shining example of a model citizen. Throughout my childhood, I stole things. Just little things; things of little importance, anything I could get my hands on.

I was a kleptomaniac.

Do you know what that is, little girl? No, I didn’t either until Godfrey explained it to me. It’s a disorder where you feel compelled to steal things that have little to no value. The day I met Godfrey Praeses, I was hoarding some old mining tools that I had come across. I don’t believe they had any value, nor were they even useful any longer, but because they still belonged to the Capitol, I had no business having them in my possession. I had no idea what to expect after I was caught, for different crimes had different punishments, little girl, and depending on the severity of them, one could be made into an Avox, and sent to the Capitol. You do know what an Avox is, little girl, don’t you? Yes. Yes, of course you do. You live in Panem, and I continuously forget that you are not a baby anymore. I apologize. When I was caught though, little girl, I was so afraid that I would be sent to the Capitol. Godfrey explained to me in detail the extent of what the consequences of my actions could be, and then he let me go.

Yes, little girl, he let me go. I was just as surprised as you were. In my mind, peacekeepers had always been these strong authority figures in my eyes, and Godfrey letting me off came a shock, but I thought very little of it until we met again for the second time. I hadn’t done anything wrong – we passed each other in town one day – but the way he looked at me, little girl. Oh, the way he looked at me. Trust me, little girl, if I man looks at you in such a way, promise that you will run. Run, far, far away, and do not once look back.

Our affair was conducted quite simply, and in the basement of my mother’s house. He would come several days a week, and we would spend no more than an hour, perhaps, together before he was forced to leave me. I’m quite certain that if given the choice, he would have chosen his career over me, little girl, and that hurt me. He cared so much more for his reputation as an authority figure and I saw the way he whipped those who did not obey him. I often lived in fear when he came to me in a rage after something in the day had not gone the way he had wished. I had no choice to go along with whatever he wanted, and am quite ashamed, little girl, to say so.

After continuing on with him for nearly a year, I found out I was pregnant.

Unaware of how Godfrey would take to this newfound knowledge, I kept it to myself, telling my mother only when it became noticeable. Each time, Godfrey came to the door, wishing to see me, my mother turned him away, claiming I was not home. This pattern continued for the nine months of my pregnancy until I was presented with your sister, my Kit. We lived in my mother’s house for what seemed an eternity. I hadn’t heard from Godfrey for a very long time, and for awhile, I thought I was free.

For the next fourteen years, my Kit and I were together. My mother had passed away when my Kit was six, so her house became mine. It was a lovely house, little girl, it had nice a thatched roof, although I’m sure you don’t remember it. It’s been torn done, and replaced with another, but that doesn’t matter much – not when there were far more important things occurring at the same time.

It was when my Kit turned twelve, did Godfrey learn of her existence, during her first Reaping, when he saw her standing amongst the other girl’s her age. My Kit looked so much like I did that he knew right away, and came to me the same afternoon with a proposal. My Kit was to retrieve the training of career, funded by him personally, and she would win the Hunger Games. I always wanted the best for my children, little girl, and my Kit the victor of the Hunger Games was something I had never imagined, but if it happened, she would have the greatest life possible, one far greater than I could have ever offered to her.

So I agreed, and once again, Godfrey invited himself back into my life.

You were conceived, little girl, two years into our reconciliation. My Kit continued on with her training, and by the time she was fourteen, she was already one of the fiercest careers District Two had seen in a long time. Because she was doing so well, again I refrained from telling Godfrey of my pregnancy. You do understand though, don’t you little girl? I needed Godfrey and his money to continue providing for my Kit, and telling him about you would have ruined that, I’m sure. When you were born, I kept you shut up inside a great deal, in one of the spare bedrooms. That way, I thought, Godfrey would suspect nothing and we could continue on with our affair, if only to make sure my Kit was supported.

The next four years continued on like this, until my Kit turned eighteen. Her final reaping passed, and her name was not drawn. Her life as a career had ended, and so too had Godfrey’s support and my relationship with him. It only took several weeks after I had not heard from him before I realized that I was unsure what to do with my life. For the past six years or so, I had worked to better the life of my children – or, child, I suppose, little girl. I’m sorry that I didn’t pay you the proper attention that you needed during those first four years, but I do believe if I had not acted in the same manner, your life would be nowhere near what it is now, and you would be poverty stricken. Please trust me, little girl, it was for the best.

Now I know you won’t believe me when I say that, because I know you, little girl. You cried when I left. You clung to my Kit as though she were your mother, and in a sense, she was after that day. I felt rather poorly for thrusting you upon an eighteen year old, but then I remembered I had been eighteen once, and taken care of a baby by my self. If anyone can do it, my Kit could.

I do realize she hasn’t been exactly what I thought she would, little girl. Her dreams were shattered when she turned eighteen, and with the conclusion of that final Reaping. I know that she pushes you into what she used to be, and I know it isn’t fair, little girl, but I know you can outlast it. I know you can, because you are not my Kit. You’re stronger than my Kit, and you can break free. Even if you don’t believe it yourself, little girl, I do.

I believe in you.

oily marks appear on walls
where pleasure moments hung before
the takeover
the sweeping insensitivity of this still life

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