they said i was always gonna be that way. [kaplan]

I thought about it long and hard. What would I do if I was reaped for the games? I didn’t know how to answer that because I rarely thought about it anymore. Maybe it was because I thought about it so much that it just kind of became a subconscious thing. I only thought about what would happen if I were put into the situation. Or, I only thought about it when I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around me. There were times where I would get so lost in thought while sewing that I nearly stitched my hand to the fabric I was working on. When I felt the stab of the needle, that’s when I got out of my subconscious and returned to the conscious world again. Sometimes I just dipped in whenever and when I would come out, it was because there were an alarming number of tears in my eyes. Of course, this varied depending on what I was thinking about. Sometimes I thought about getting reaped, and sometimes I thought about how I would die. Sometimes I thought about my mother dying, and sometimes I just thought of the world burning. It all really just depended on what I was feeling or even working on.

When I thought of myself being reaped, I would instantly play the scene in my head. They would call my name for everyone to hear. My mother would fake the dramatics and start crying. I would walk up and humbly take my place, knowing well that I would probably end up dying within the first couple of days. My family would come up to me and tell me that they were going to miss me, and knowing my mom, she would ask me if I could make a couple more garments before I would go. I would slap my mother across the face and tell her to fuck off. My step father would probably probably try to attack me but either my brother or the peacekeepers would hold him back. I would tell my mother what an awful person she was and how I wished she was going to the games. I would ask her why she thought she had a right to treat me like I was just something to use. Why we couldn’t have a real relationship, and why everything was fine only when I was making her something that would make her money. She would probably tell me something to the tune of future this or preparing that, and I would call her out again on her bullshit. She would tell me that she wasn’t lying and I would ask for them to come take me away. She would call my name and before I walked out of the room, I would turn around and slap her across the face again. After that, I would walk out of the room with a smile across the face, ready to meet my demise with a smile on my face.

When I thought about my brother getting reaped, I would think about how I would volunteer for him because I knew that he wasn’t cut out for the games. It wasn’t that he was slow or anything, but I just had a feeling that he wouldn’t even try to fight for his life. While I knew him well, I could never gauge him. In the long run though, I knew that it would be the right decision. He could stay here and help mom with whatever the fuck she wanted. In all honesty, I think I just wanted my out. A chance to get out of the place that I hated so much. The funny thing was, I didn’t hate the district, or the people in it. I just hated living in the world of my mother. I would openly welcome a different type of hell. One that might have involved me getting stabbed by someone that didn’t think much of human life. I didn’t think much about my life anyway. I only thought of what my work might be thought of after I enter the games. I was sure that my mother would try to capitalize on it in some way, and she would probably wish that I died so she could find a way to exploit that too. I hoped my mother died before I got reaped. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about her trying to turn it into something that it wasn’t. While it was extremely sad, I also didn’t want her to gain a sick sort of power over me. She didn’t run my life, and she didn’t own me. Me and her were two different people, and that was all that there was to it. At least, that was what I told myself.

Sometimes a knife would come out of nowhere when I was in my mind, and stab me. Maybe it was a premonition of how I was going to die. Maybe it was a way to tell me that I needed to wake up or something bad was going to happen. Maybe it was just something that I couldn’t control. I didn’t know, and it pissed me off. I had to be prepared for anything at the end of the day, and when the day would come that I would meet my demise, I would embrace it happily. Or something like that.

The boy that was in front of me looked bewildered. I didn’t blame him though, seeing as he just told me that he knew the tribute personally. I wished I could say I didn’t know any of the tributes that went to the games, but I did, however, I didn’t know them well. I didn’t know them like the boy had claimed to know the Moon child. He seemed like he was close to him, almost like they were lovers of sorts. Of course, I was probably thinking way too much into it, which happened when I was caught off guard by someones emotions. I could tell that this boy truly did care about what was going to happen to his friend. He was right, Zagrues Moon was probably going to die in the games, and that was something no one could do anything about. That was something that he had to find solace in though.

I could tell though that he was fragile. He didn’t know what to think about the situation, and I wondered if he knew the there was nothing that he could do. I wondered if it would have been a little to rude to just tell him to make his peace with Zagreus’s impending death and move on with his life. I wondered if that was something that someone would tell my parents as well. I wondered if anyone would care as much as this boy seemed to care about his friend. I would relish in that thought if someone did. If someone cared enough about me to worry about me, I would surely try to do well in the games myself. I was certain though that no one cared about me. That was another thing that I could find peace in. No one cared about me and I was fine with that.

He tried to tell me that he wanted to have faith in his friend. To me, that meant that he needed to have faith in his friend. Who cared if there was a high chance that he might not back it back alive. That’s wasn’t a reason to give up on someone. Even though I knew people would probably give up on me, I wouldn’t give up on anyone that went into the games that I knew. I would be rooting them on because maybe, just maybe, my thoughts would reach them in some weird way and they would experience a second life of sorts. They would feel like they had to win simply because I was thinking about them. I knew it was a fever dream to think that someone would step up their game because of my thoughts, but I found it comforting. Comfort was something that you didn’t come across much in eight, no matter how much money you had. I longed to be in the arms of comfort after all.

“Well, if you think he is going to win, then maybe he does have a chance.” I start, knowing that there are going to be tons of caveats to this statement. I sighed, trying to collect my thoughts. Maybe this isn’t what he wanted to hear. Maybe he did want me to break his heart a little bit. As much as I wanted to lay down the cold hard truth, I wanted to lead him down a path that was hopeful, and not destructive. He already seemed like he was lost, and when lost people were pushed into a corner, they were known to do things that had bad drawbacks. I watched many people go insane because people they loved went into the games. As horrible as it was, I knew you had to keep a positive mentality, or you might as well kill them yourself.

“And what if he doesn’t come home?” I ask him, bluntly. “What will you do if he doesn’t come home?” I knew this was going to be the start of my empowering tirade. However, I wasn’t sure if this was the right time to go on it. Maybe there was more thought behind what he was saying. I didn’t want to say something that was going to set him off after all, and I knew well that people were always unpredictable post reaping. That’s when he let it all out. I was happy I waited, because now I got what I think was the root of his demeanor. “Stop.” I said to him, trying to get him to stop going a mile a minute, because honestly, it wasn’t doing him any favorite. “You are not allowed to lament over such an idea.” I say to him. “It is bad luck that he got reaped, but I think volunteering for him might not have been the best idea either.” I was trying to think of other things I could have said to him, but for some reason I couldn’t think of anything exactly. It was like the ideas were leaving my head quicker than I could say them. “Yes, think about him coming home, but if he doesn’t, remember that you wished and prayed for him to do so.” I gave him a smile that was reassuring, “and if he doesn’t come home, then you need to think about how you are going to celebrate his life.”

That was a weird concept to me. Celebrating one’s life in death. It was something that I didn’t see many people do here in eight, mostly because I think people made peace with the fact that their child was pretty much signed up to die when they were taken away by the capitol. “Celebrate it in a way that would honor your friend. Don’t celebrate it because you feel obligated too, but do it because you want to honor the life they had with you.” I don’t know where these words were coming from. Everything was just kind of coming out of my mouth quicker than I could process. Logorrhea was setting in, and that meant that I was probably going to be saying anything, and everything.

And then he shared his bit of loneliness with me, and I understood everything. It was like it all came full circle. I knew exactly what it was like to be lonely. “Loneliness is a fickle thing, err?” I paused. “What is your name?” I asked him, not really sure if that was the best time to ask for it, but it might have been awkward if I called him young one like I was planning on. “It’s easy to live in a place where loneliness is the only thing you know, and losing that one person that was special to you adds to the sadness of it all.” I was trying to choke back tears, because for some reason, the mention of loneliness had been feeling a little more emotional then I let on. “However, you aren’t alone. You have people here in the district that can relate to how you are feeling. Zagreus meant something to many people, and those are the people that you should seek out. I wished I could say I knew him, but I didn’t.” I was candor in my words because that was the only way I knew to be when I was getting all emotional. Honesty was the best policy after all. “However, maybe we could both think of a way to live for him, and then, even if he dies, he is still living in the both of us. In our memories.”

I positioned myself on the ground, sitting crossed legged. “Come, sit, tell me about Zagreus.” I said, patting the warped wood under us, thinking that maybe this was the best way to honor a friend that he knew and I didn’t. Maybe it was time for me to stop being such a Debbie downer and get a little more hopeful. After all, not everything here in eight was terrible. There was a lot of beauty here, and there were a lot of beautiful people. It was just up to us to find that beauty and try to celebrate it the only way we knew how. By talking about it. By sharing it with other people. By making sure that we don’t ever forget him name. I cracked my knuckles and reached for the fabric behind me, ripping off a long piece and then shredding it into smaller pieces to use as cloth. This was probably going to be emotional. “Tell me about your friend Zagreus Moon.”