keep banging on that door (tom/mixandmingle event.)
Sept 4, 2017 21:47:44 GMT -5
Post by ryan on Sept 4, 2017 21:47:44 GMT -5
the scars remind us | I watched it. I watched it for the first time in a long time. The whole finale. I cried. I cried for the first time. Instead of yelling at the screen, telling Rubi to turn it off. I was shocked. For the first time in years, since ive been born district 6 had a winner. I wasn’t crying because of that though. No. Because of what the capitol has turned people into. Sweet people, who are naïve about the simple things, become monsters. Become people who change because they now have blood on their hands. Distorted faces that can’t be reclaimed to what they once were. Not even the victor. Pour Theodore Ursa. He should be proud of what he accomplished. He moved through the games, keeping District Six’s heart alive. However, I can only imagine what he is going through. I can only assume now, but I would never know. I would probably never get the chance to meet him. So how could I know. I turn out the lights, lay Rubi to bed, and stare out the window, watching the lights of the house, fade in and out, in and out, until I fall unconscious. Rubi drags me out of bed, trying to get my ready so I can go to yet another training class. I worked as an assistant to one of the doctors in Six. I sorted and made basic medicine for the doctors to use on patients. I wasn’t allowed to go near the more complex things, for fear that I might make the place go boom. I always packed a couple things to come with me. My mother was able to find a small satchel bag, which I’ve taken the liberty of decorating with various designs that my mother taught me how to sew on. While my mother might have been a chemist, she truly was someone that could do anything. From something as simple as sewing, to something complex, like taking care of four children for eight years by herself. I thought the world of her. I don’t know what I would do without her. Currently, my bag had a bag of fruit, a notebook that I could write in, a pen that my father gave me on my 7th birthday, which I lost but somehow, it came back into my life. A spare shirt, just in case I somehow was clumsy and ruined the one on my back. The last thing, a separate notebook, with measurements of each medication I was allowed to make, not that it was many. Rubi, still dragging me along, grabbed that bag and a piece of bread from the table. He put a small bit of jam on it and shoved it in my mouth. Before I could even speak, he was yelling at me that I overslept and could be late. He sneered at me, telling me that we already have to live down the fact that our father was mad. As much as I wanted to tell him to bite his tongue, I had to admit, he was smart. So smart. It was scary. A kid who was only 11 was telling her about honor, and dignity. I could tell why he was destined to do so much more for this district then I could ever do. Be. Sad. It was all sad. Every last bit of it. But that was my life. Sad. I finally told Rubi to calm down, as I pulled the piece of toast out of my mouth and headed back upstairs to grab another shirt. I looked at myself in the mirror, grumbled something under my breath and made my way back down. I snatched the bag from Rubi and gave him a kiss on the cheek before jetting out the door. I didn’t say a word to him, he already knew how much I loved him. It was just going to be another day in Six. The birds were out for once, a rare site now a days. As I walked down the trail, I noticed several dead, strewn amongst the rocks where the water couldn’t quite pull them in yet. I say a small blessing, even though it doesn’t mean anything. I think back to the tributes that I just watched lose their lives, and couldn’t help but shed a tear. My heart bled for those families. However, I couldn’t let people know that. I had to focus, because everyone knew what would happen if I didn’t focus. Boom. Boom. Boom. I kept walking, still paying attention to the birds. That was until, I bumped head on into a tree. I cursed while falling to the ground, my head jarred. I just sat there for a second, trying to figure out where I went wrong. Someone approached me, asking if I was alright, and all I could say was, “No.” No I was not. |
tag open || Charlotte Anderson || notes: shes on the ground, in pain haha. || words: 816 || ▲