Faye Sukate, District 12 {WIP}

She caressed my face. With a care one can only have for their own child. She told me that I was beautiful. For confidence to venture on one's adventures. She loved me. With such passion, one that each mother should hold deep within their heart. Even the best things have flaws. And sometimes, the flaws can be deadly. But my mother; surely, she'd never committed anything sinister. She would never stoop so low. The woman who stroked my cheek when I was in the early youth, the woman who told me I was a lily. A lily that has just risen in winter. The lily that gives me hope. Hope that not all is lost.

Sometimes I lie awake at night. Is it all worth it? That is the thought I think. The pain, the suffering. Is there a reason for living if we live in agony? Suffer and die for one's entertainment? Who in their right mind would want to live in a world like that? A world stricken with hate and regret. Blood, pain, suffering. A world where the minority have luxuries whilst the minority suffer. It's wrong. I was taught wrong from right, and it's so wrong how they do this. It's not a question a child can question, but I question it anyway. When I have those quiet, dull nights lying awake and gazing out onto the moon, I ponder, I wonder, about this world.

Cruelty over-takes this universe, and entwines us in its tight coils. And the people whom which I live around are squashed in the center. Right now I can almost feel the deadly coils wrapping tighter around me as the Capitol re-gain more and more power. Sucking the life out of me, as the breath pounds from my mouth and erupts in the mess we live in. I'm pleading for them to stop. They are tightening their grasp on me and all my voice is is a rasp. A tight, sorrow rasp escaping my lips, knocking the breath from me as I feel myself slowly strangle myself.

And then my eyes open again, and I realize it was just a dream, just a fantasy, some vivid thoughts inside my head. Not real. It was fake, it wasn't real, I'm not dead, I'm not dead. But it would be better if I was dead. Don't understand yet? Here's the drill. Dead family. My mother, and her aroma of perfume. People who hate me in class. They despise me, loathe me, whatever word you could use. Because I'm the so-called perfect one. The one who the teacher adores, the one who can do everything right, no mistakes, none whatsoever. But they don't know the real me. Inside I'm just a girl with troubles. A girl from the Seam who struggles to get by.

I am a lily.

Or maybe some people think I'm a rose, sitting in the green meadow. Or a sunflower, light and bouncy, playful, cute. But I'm none of these things. I wouldn't mind sitting in a meadow, but in no way am I light, bouncy, playful or cute. The sunflower is just not my flower. I have no connection with the sunflower, but I am related to the lily. I remember my mother's words, they ring in my ears as I speak. "You're my lily, Faye." That's what she said as she stroked my cheek and told me everything would be all right. She gave me hope, the lily gave me hope, then both sources of hope were destroyed. Even today I look around, confused, thinking where is she? Where has she gone? And only the wind answers me, with a short howl.

My mother is dead. My father is dead. My siblings are dead. Everybody who I have ever loved is dead. Just dead corpses six feet underground nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. That is all they are, and suddenly I am ablaze. With my fury and my anger and the blood that pumps in my forehead, my senses arise. I am furious, raging, mad, whatever you say, just the fact I am angry. They lie in the graveyard, yet that isn't where they belong, they belong with me where they can be safe and sound.

I remember her laugh. Sunny, light, beautiful. It made me feel at home and happy. The only moments I was happy was when I was with her. The only time I ever felt truly happy, the only time I ever laughed and smiled naturally. She was my saviour. All good things come to an end, and she just happened to end faster than expected. Still now, I raise my fist, to the fucking Capitol, the people who ruined my life, my hopes and dreams, and they destroyed everyone I loved with their sickening power. What is left of my house is now ashes and ruins and there's nothing left to call home. It's just rubble and dust, a scene where nobody is allowed. The Peacekeepers make sure of that. To hell with them.