Dyneema Gazar | District 8 | FIN

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”Cora help me.”

It won’t take long, it never does. I just need to lay here and let it happen, let him do what he needs. None of it is his fault, it’s mine. He tells me it’s mine, so it is. I am useless and worthless; the only thing I do well is lying still. I just lie here and do nothing and that’s all I am good for. He tells me to do something, I do it. He tells me to be quiet, I do it. If I don’t listen, then it will become worse and he will become unhappy.

Stretching my hand out to Cora, I’d close my eyes; he’s here. I just need to be with Cora and think of something else. Cora is always here, she is my friend, my angel. There is never time where she isn’t by my side. She is at my work, in my dreams and there when the bad things happen. If it wasn’t for Cora I wouldn’t be here. I would be gone; I’d be with Mum, Dad and Avia right now. I wouldn’t be happy; I wouldn’t be making him happy either. Cora is here to help me and I am here to help him.

I’ve grown used to his warmth and weight, his skin sliding against mine. His sweat that covers my body when he’s done, even the smell has grown immune to me. I am never in pain, I don’t feel anything. I am just here to be his toy, his rag doll. In return I get shelter and food that is all I have to do, please him. I have to be thankful; I have to obey to him. I can’t be on the street starved; even out there Cora can’t help me.

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At work it’s easy to hide the bruises and the scars, Cora makes them disappear. Nobody knows, nobody even notices. They don’t notice the tear stained cheeks in the morning when I return. They don’t notice my moments of dizziness, the times I run to the bathroom to be sick, I am invisible to them all. We’re all drones; we’re just here to work, here to please the bosses. String together garments for the Capitol and in return they give us food and shelter. We don’t question it, we don’t complain about it; we just go and do it. If we were to misbehave, we would make the bosses unhappy and then we’d be on the streets.

Cora makes my work day fly by, she is there to talk to and she swallows all my worries. She doesn’t tell anyone, she keeps it to herself. She doesn’t tell me what to do, she doesn’t guide me and she just listens. If I need a hug, she is the first I go to. If I need a shoulder to cry on, she is the first I go to soak up all my tears. But I can’t cry in front of him. He says it makes me look weak and I can’t be weak, not in his house. I have to work to be in his house, I have to please him.

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His face his close to mine, as my body lays still on the bed. My arms flat out besides my body, I just let him get on with it. He doesn’t do it as frequent anymore, he’s gotten old. At one stage it used to be every day and that was when I needed all the help from Cora. I couldn’t deal with it, the pain he caused my body to go through, he didn’t care. As long as he was happy, he didn’t care.

I know he’s grown old because he now feels weak; he is not as strong as he used to be. Before Cora has told me to fight back because of this vulnerability but he always blackmails me. Even after dragging him off me, he is capable of manipulating me to invite him back. It’s hard to not surrender to him, he has strings attached to me and I’ll need a great big pair of scissors to cut them off.

I am brought back from the daydreaming as he pulls my hair. ”Ow no stop.” My long brown hair, identical to my mother’s and sisters. It’s the only thing left that I have to remember them and he wants me to cut it. ”If you let me cut it, then it wouldn't get in the way.” He stops, dragging himself out of the bed. ”I’ll do it now.” Glancing over to Cora, panic would set into my body. No, no he can’t. Cora help me.

Jumping out of the bed, a scream would pulsate out of my lunges; I can’t let him do this. He returns into the room, a pair of steel scissors in his hands. ”Sit still, it’ll only take a minute.” That’s what he always says. Glancing to Cora, I’d try to fight for support but she is giving me none. ”No don’t! Cora help me!” He drops a strand of my hair; a chuckle rolls out of his mouth. Walking to the drawers at the side of the bed, he’d stand next to Cora, his chuckle still floating around in the air. ”It’s a teddy bear dear, it won’t help you.”

II

My hair and the bear, the gift from my mother, the thing to remember her by. I was seven when dad died, a heart attack; it was all so sudden. Mother was quick on finding another husband, another father figure for me and my twin Avia. Quickly we were a happy family again; I liked him, the new dad in my life.

It seems the world doesn't like to stay happy for me, for long.

I was only nine when the fire tore through my house, during the night, filling it with ember flames and smoke. He grabbed me from my bed and saved me, he saved me and Cora. I had her in my arms the whole time. I should’ve had Avia in my arms.

The house was dust, along with their bodies. Memories and life vanished, for no good reason. We didn't deserve it, I deserve none of this.

He tells me to forget it all and not to worry.

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Raising Cora in the air by her head, he stabs the scissors into her neck. ”I could cut its head off.” No, no he can’t. He can’t kill her. ”I’ll throw it into the fireplace downstairs.” He can’t, he won’t. ”No don’t please!” Throwing myself off the bed, I’d tear away his grip of Cora, saving her from the execution. ”Run away and you’re not coming back.” Run away? But where would I go, who would look after me?

Cora is after all a stuffed bear and she can’t take care of me. He’s the only person in my life that cares. I just need to keep him happy and I will live.

Placing the bear on the floor, I’d lie back down on the bed, my eyes to where Cora sits. I’d wait for whatever he has to do.

I just need to please him and we will both be happy.

”Help me, anybody.”