burn the past, embrace the present {kousei}

    The dim dwelling of the sun shimmering within the sky's realm soon slips into shadow as night veils Panem in its presence. The ever quiet tender ticking of a clock is all I hold as company in this late hour. Subtle sounds of slumber stir from down a darkened hall, but I pay no mind to the people who have brought me here upon my sacrificial demands. Instead, my fingers flip and toil over blank spaces within a drawing book barely visible inside the illumination of the misty moon. Phantom faces and those of living loiter my pages as ink endlessly develops them as perfectly as I can picture. Most smile, several don't, but all gaze directly forward unable to notice me just as in true reality. I despise drawing each Shim. I despise seeing their faces after being forgotten about for so long, but what I don't despise is the destiny of these drawings. 

    Upon completion of the final face I leave the lobby of my floor and enter the embrace of the elevator. Soft sounds of machinery murmur through the air but my face remains unphased and the book remains firmly gripped within my right hand. As I descend I can even feel the heat of hatred rising from my right hand and infecting my entire existence. With every floor I whisk past some memory invades my sense of numbness to remind me of why I'm here. I remember the nights spent cooking simply because they forgot to come home between shifts to feed me. I remember the nights they spent at my cousins' homes grieving greatly while I withered away having to fend entirely for myself. I remember the one apology I ever got for them forgetting my birthday, it became habit after that. The doors open. 

    At the center of the place I've chosen to christen with my presence through a voice of desire and need, I gather supplies. My body moves automatically constructing a fire which soon furls and flips vibrantly before me. A deep breath draws into my mouth as ash and smoke remind me of why I'm here at this moment. My hands open the book to its first page of Shims and I stare into her eyes with the fire flickering behind her. Lost somewhere deep within my uplifted roots I sense the scream of a crying child, it dies beneath a barricade of broken hopes. I rip the page from its place and let it fly forth into the flames. For several seconds I watch in complete peace as my Mother's face grows engulfed in the fire, she never was a real Mother after all. 

    Another sheet splits from its tether to the binding of my book as this one only makes me wriggle and nearly rant with anger. My Father. Father's are supposed to teacher their children to be strong, to be a person who is kind to every other person they meet. He only taught me how to hate, how to survive on my own. I suppose given my current circumstances I should be grateful, hell I don't even have any regrets thanks to his parenting. I let the fire devour him with no remorse, I doubt any will even arise during this night. 

    After burning the phantom faces of my fallen cousins I detect the sound of someone else within the room. Turning solely my head I search the rim of the shadows bordering the fire's circle of illumination, I spot some shape I can't clearly identify. I figure anything is better than just the sound of crackling wood and seeping smoke.

    "Couldn't sleep either? Well, you're welcome by the fire if you want. I'll be here a while."