look what the cat dragged in // jay family

The moment his name was uttered at the reaping, Persia knew Jabber was dead meat.

At first the escort's words fell on deaf ears, just a dull ringing that could only be picked up by the keenest of ears. Persia didn't really care for the Capitol or their charades anymore. She'd already played their game, and she'd let herself be moved whatever way she wanted. Now, she was off the gameboard, stored away in a box full of broken toys and memories that served no point in keeping. It was a pleasant feeling, being forgotten. She hadn't exactly exchanged friendly words with the Jays the last time they had spoken. Eleven years with them was far too much for someone to handle. It was just a surreal blur of harsh words, cigarette smoke and wild red hair falling into her eyes as she stormed out of the house, never to look back.

Her eyes were trained on the stage, the escort's identity forgotten even after years of suffering through her tired banter and shrill cries. As she drew the names from the glass bowls, and spoke into the carbon microphone, her hearing suddenly kicked back into full effect. Everything went in slow motion now, and loud shrieks met her ears. It was like she could taste the escort's words on her own lips. It was a disgusting taste, and the cigarette that she balanced between her teeth fell to the ground. At first Persia didn't recognize the names called. Then it slowly began to sink in, as she realized that the cries came from her own family.

Rewind.

"It is time," he said as he stood over the impatient people of the District, "To once again send two of our own children to the Capitol to compete in the Hunger Games. Let us begin the Reaping!"

He did not look to see the reaction of his district before reaching into the glass ball that held the names of the female children. "Ladies first," he announced, pulling out a slip of paper. He unfolded it and read out to the crowd, "Akasha Labinnac!" He then reached into the other ball. "Jabber Jay!"

Jabber. Why was that name so familiar? She'd only heard it a few times in her life. Mostly in her family. They tossed it around like some old toy that had suffered through years of teething, dragging around in the mud, and leaving it out in the snow too long. She had to keep replaying the last moment in her mind over and over, to make sure she had heard correctly.

Jabber.

Jabber Jay.

Jabber Jay.

Hey, that's funny. My last name is Jay too. Persia took a moment to let the shock set in, and her jaw dropped. Shit. The escort had just called the name of one of her cousins, someone whose name she'd had to write on the back of her hand for weeks to remember. He was just a broken thirteen-year-old when they had met. A week later, and he was the most annoying kid known to man, and one of the biggest reasons that Persia drifted away from the Jays and became independent. And now, three years later, and he was being shipped off to his death. And Persia could only watch.

She lurked around the Justice Building that day, watching as her family entered and exited with either grim looks on their faces or tears shining in their eyes. She earned quite an amount of suspicious glares from Peacekeepers, but for the most part she went unnoticed. Even by the visitors of the female tribute. She contemplated stepping in and offering her condolences to the family, but then a surprising visitor appeared in Jabber's room.

Persia tried desperately to hear their conversation, peering in the doorway and trying to slow her heavy breathing.

"Regain my faith in the family, Jabber."

Persia only laughed at Juliette's parting words and stepped back as she walked out of the room. Jabber would not be able to win the Games. The odds were rarely ever in the favor of the underdogs. They were called underdogs for a reason; they were meant to be trampled underfoot and treated like trash. Persia would be surprised if he even made it past the top twelve.

She milled around the town square for days, acting nonchalant as if Jabber were not going to set foot in that arena in a week. District Nine didn't have many victors, and none in the past decade. He would not win. It would be impossible for him to take home the crown. The Jays had very little control over their own lives. It seemed that Blue and Gray couldn't keep their pants on either, for them to have eight kids.

Though, the taste of smoke on her lips was bitter now, and she dropped the cigarette on the ground, stomping on it. Persia's hope in Jabber was almost non-existent, though when a promising '7' appeared on the screen, topping District Three entirely, she could not stop the ghost of a smile from appearing on her face.

The night prior to the Bloodbath, Persia could not sleep. She lay on the sofa, fiddling with the torn leather, staring blankly at the television screen. Everyone was flashing smiles, (except the poor kid from District 8) decked out in their prettiest attire, laughing like ninnies and pretending nothing was wrong. Jabber seemed beyond ecstatic, the total opposite of how he had acted in the Justice Building. He was keeping up the facade of that happy, humorous dreamer that everybody loved back home. Though, it was what he said next that made Persia's teeth grind and her blood boil.

Rewind.

"How confident do you feel about the games now that you've seen your training score?" Caesar asked, offering Jabber a broad, mocking smile. Jabber mirrored his expression, appearing to be making an extra effort to make his grin wider and more cheesy than the clown himself.

"A training score is only a number to me. I'm confident that I can go places. After all, everyone likes an underdog."

No. That was strike one. Big mistake.

Persia stood up, quickly grabbing the remote and flicking off the television. "You have no damn clue how wrong you are, Jabber Jay," she spat at the screen. Even if he was here, standing in earshot, his hot, panicked breaths brushing against her freckled cheeks, her bitter words would still fall on deaf ears. They always did. Why else would the Jays have let her walk out that day?

Why would they let Juliette leave too?

Persia may as well have been in the arena with them. She muted the volume so she didn't have to hear the labored breathing of tributes, or hear their hearts beating out of their chests. She didn't want to hear the countdown, hear the screams as people were mercilessly slaughtered by their peers, people who should've been their friends instead of raising their weapons in battle. There were several tributes milling around one poor soul, swinging their weapons down with loud, brutish cries. In the midst of all the blood-spattered chaos, Persia was able to identify one terrified face, stained with blood and tears, and half swollen.

Jabber.

Persia unconsciously picked up the remote, pressing the mute button. The sounds of the Bloodbath roared in her ears, shouts overlapping each other. The wails ripping out of Jabber's throat though were almost animal-like, so overwhelming to Persia's ears that she had to turn down the television again and sink back between the sofa cushions, closing her eyes. Her cousin was actually dying. She had abandoned her family for her own selfish reasons, leaving them to cope with their broken souls and mixed emotions while another family member was cruelly ripped away from them.

The cameras were finally focusing on something other than the carnage at the Cornucopia, and Jabber lay in the middle of a clearing, swollen lips slowly forming broken, unintelligible words. Normally, during the Games, people tended to say and do things they would regret later, as if they forgot that their every move was being tracked. But Jabber knew the world was watching. And he was living up to his name by pouring out his heart in a dramatic speech. Persia turned up the volume once more, listening to him drone on comin' up like word vomit and apologize for things he had done.

Persia could not bear to listen to him anymore. Jabber was bringing out a side of Persia that she'd been trying to hide for years. Showing emotion had no purpose; why was Jabber Jay forcing tears into her eyes now?

Persia wiped her eyes dry, shielding her view of the screen. She tried her best to tune out his words, but her efforts were rendered useless. "Persia?" She opened her eyes, brushing her tangled red locks out of her face. Jabber was speaking to her now. He remembered her. He was the only Jay that remembered her. It was like her heart was being torn out of her chest, bleeding out beside Jabber. The only Jay that bothered to remember her name, the only one who cared, was dying now.

"Wherever you are, if you're even still alive, just know that I'm sorry that I never even bothered to find you."

I am alive. Just forgotten. Persia stood up, twisting the knob on the television and watching the screen dissolve to static. Thanks to Jabber, the Jays would know she was still around. She didn't have to make another name for herself. Jabber had already done that. She picked up her messenger bag and slung it over her shoulder, taking a deep breath. No matter the consequences, she was marching her ass down to the Jays' household right now and making sure she was known.

Her housemate looked up at her in concern, narrowing her eyes. "Persia? Where are you going?" she asked warily. Persia did not look back at her housemate, but instead presented her middle finger to her as a goodbye.

"Out."

Persia stood on the front porch of the Jays' house, and the gloomy aura around it made her spirits sink lower into the dust. A sloppy scowl plastered across her face, she lifted her hand and prepared to knock on the door. Persia paused though, her fist tightening until her own blood was drawn, and her knuckles were as white as snow. She was here to make sure the Jays kept her fresh in their memory. She was not here for redemption, or to even try to renew her bad reputation in anyway.

That was not how Persia Jay did things.

Her foot went flying through the air, hitting the door with a sharp bang. The pale wood splintered on impact, and there was a loud creaking as the front door was separated from its rusty hinges. Timber. There was a loud moan as the door went down, landing on the floor with a thud. Persia had just broken into her own house. And she stepped over the mess of wood fragments like it was nothing, smirking.

"Surprise," she chuckled. "I guess the cat dragged me in, huh?"