{Anthem for Doomed Youth} [Sampson & Salome]

What do you know of suffering?

He comes from a place of pain. All the Izars know that Sampson has suffered the most at the hands of the capitol. Who could say what it felt like to lose a brother? You know nothing of such pain—Magdalena has always been at your side. You were a babe when Benat disappeared, and Iago was no prince. You were still carrying dolls and playing make believe when Levi fell. Their graves held your flowers, your prayers whispered to them across the veil. Yet years had passed, and with all memories, slivers of them were spun into gold, with the rest tucked away to collect dust. Hurt had a way of vanishing when life was right in front of you, dear child.

He might expect you to cry. Your cousins have never seen strength in the Izar women. Were you not left collecting flowers while the boys tumble-crashed into the waters of the river? Even now, Sampson saw you as a mother of sorts—the one that stands watch over children to make sure to mend their bumps and bruises. Glue to hold all of them together. A forgotten strength protects them, as though your grace and fragility could not encompass power as well. Dare not to be brave and speak out; be contented in the shadows to keep the family united. You have always looked after what has been your family; was standing for District Eleven anything short of protecting as many as possible?

What made you think you could do this?

“Don’t lecture me about what I’ve done.” You step toward him. There are multitudes contained within you, more than Sampson could ever have known. “You sit around talking about how much you hate them, despise them. You want to see the world crash and burn so that all of us suffer.” You have been nothing but true your whole life, only now you feel your words turning into weapons. “Well some of us know that there is no black and white, Sampson. Shame. Shame on you thinking that’s the way the world should be. There are good people here… everywhere. They try to make it the best they can, and that doesn’t make them terrible.”

You are the multitudes. You are great. And you are fear, you are loathing. You know that when you have boarded that train, there will be no return for you. Only death, whether in minutes, hours, or days. Yet though you tremble at the thought of facing the other side, you are not ashamed of doing what was right. The world has never been about the single man who stands up; it has been the men and women that stand each day, stepping forward for the good of them all. Sampson may have been twenty-four, but here was still a boy. A boy that knew nothing but grief and pain; the two true villains of the hunger games.

“If you have come to tell me that I’ll never be able to do what your brother and our cousins did, then say so. But I’m not here because I want to be anything like them.” You take a breath and feel the lump in your throat. “Maybe you are right. But that doesn’t mean you have the right to knock me down for what I’ve done.”