When Life Just Won't Give In (Open)

A harsh poke on the shoulder brought Rowan back to reality, along with a gargling scowld in the ear. She shot up out of her top bunk bed, luckily for her the ceilings were much higher than any human was, shoving the old book under her plain, white foam pillow. If anyone found out she read or even had anything she could classify as hers, a beating would be at the other end of it. But a tall blond woman stared back with hard eyes, her brows drawn together as if permanently. This is Falon, the as if commander of our little group. She hates it when I read because if I'm caught, she will probably be told off too. But she would never tell, because if we all turn against each other, then we will have no one. 

The clock glows the numbers 06:00 and the whole room explodes with silent figures of all ages. With only two bath rooms between the two double beds on both sides of the room and eight avoxes, its a bit of a rush. But still Rowan lay in her bed, watching as Falon pushed her way to the front of the line for the toilet. Rowan was her mothers second name, as she had had firy red hair, which she had passed on to only one of her daughters. That messy too-curly red hair earned Rowan the nickname Red. Its not like that names matter anymore, because they don't, she only knew Falon's name because she had heard one of the Carers say it. Everyone else were just shadows in this too colourful place. When the queue had died down, Red swung her legs over the banisters that provened her from rolling off her bed in the night and dropped down onto the tile floor with a satifiying thump. This earned her a few glares from the avoxes who where already putting on their make-up and tiying their hair back into falutless buns. Everyone else in this flat were captol resisdents and where probable going to wake up around eight for the opening ceremony of the 66th hunger game tributes, but if they were desturbed by their slaves waking up, no good came out of that.

Slumping into the bathroom, my eyes lazily raises to see the reflection in the mirror. A hollowed cheeked girl looks back with a death stare, thin lips pressed together grimly and her yellow hinted green eyes lacking the hope and inspiration of everyone. Snarling at the image, Red sprayed her face with soapy water, brushed her corkscrew curls into a mass of fris so when she tired it back there wouldn't be any lumps. She had been chosen as one of the trubuites Avoxes, which was always better than being treated as a shadow by the capitol residents. But still they were warned that avoxes were only here to be commanded around and never to socialize with, if that was possible with a one-way coversations. Lonelyness gnawed at her stomach, making her feel empty and more not herself. Everyday she felt as if she was more and more an object, not worthy of being a human, not worthy of being her.

Tears welled up in her eyes, threating spill at any moment. Anger flooded her emptyness, making red mist to cloud over her vision. Gripping the sides of the washing basin to steady her racing heart, but only for a second. She wouln't give in, she wouln't let the capitol defeat her to tears. But they spilled over anyway. The capitol had defeated her, they had taken her family away, they had taken her friends away and they had taken away her voice. Everything went white, the only thing she could see was the reflection of the hollowed cheeked girl, her mouth gaping open to revile a wide open darkness of nothing. The only sound a high pitch scream, that formed no words or frequency.

This happens nearly every morning, a rough hand clamps over my mouth, cutting my tuneless scream short. "Can't stand your own ugliness?" A rough voice scaped next to my ear. Red knew she should hate the peacekeeper that directs and controls our little group, but the feeling of someone actually talking to her overwelled her. And even though the hardhand that clamped over her mouth meant no kindness, it was the first touch that really had any social meaning. The hand was removed and still the refection showed her mouth hanging open with the cut in half muscle in her mouth not even able to move. The middle aged man behind her flinched slightly at the sight of her before turning sharply and gathering up the rest of the avoxes to go and do their chores around the apartment. Once she had calmed down, Red clumsily swept on the manatory make-up they had to wear that made he feel like a doll, hair tied back, black lipstick and dark eye shadow. 06:30 blow light glared down at Red as she locked their dorm behind her, it was more habit that nessicarity, like whos going to steal from the Box. That was her nickname for the room they slept in, it was just a shame she couldn't share it with anyone else.

A pile of sheets were shoved harshly into Red's chest by Falon as she passed by with the same trolley everyday, giving her the same 'don't get into trouble ' glare. The Same Every Single Day, nothing really made any difference to what she did or nothing made any difference to her. They thought they could kill her from the inside, slowly drown her sharpness and strong head with the boredness and loneyless of being a avoxes. Not, she just didn't let it show. Pressing her lips into thin line, presuring the little voice that told her to fight back into the corner and forcing herself to prepare for another boring day of being ignored and pushed around. Her black painted finger nails slowly swept over the clean door leaver, taking a deep breath she pushed the door into the first apartment room.

Ooc: Anyone like to bump into Red?