There appear to be five steps that I've started to come to terms with, unfortunately.
Step One: I live happily with my loving family. Step Two: The reaping tears us apart, taking one of them away from me. Step Three: The Hunger Games rear their ugly ass into my life and ruin the life of whomever was torn away from me. Step Four: When the Games truly show how horrid they are, loss kicks in, taking my loved one away from me for the rest of time. Step Five: Despair kicks in, showing me how horrible life truly is without my family member that was stolen from me by the Capitol and their wretched Games.
So, in summary, my life consists of:
Step One: Family Step Two: The Reaping Step Three: The Games Step Four: Loss Step Five: Despair
I'm not quite sure why, but this seems to have become the cycle of my life. My children are being torn away from me and there's nothing I can do to stop it. It was Bolts's last year of the reaping and they stole him from my life. He was taken away from me, or, in more proper terms, he was taken away from us. All of my children faced the same loss as I did. Cordelia, Joule, Cal, Industria, Florence and Joseph. Each and every one of them had to deal with losing a Bolts at such a young age.
Now I fear that Florence will be leaving us at the mere age of thirteen. She was chosen in the reaping of the seventy-ninth Hunger Games, torn out of our lives with nothing that we could do to stop it. When we said goodbye to her in the Justice Building, I did everything I could to keep myself strong. I appeared to be strong, at least to the greatest extent that I was capable of. I didn't let the tears escape from my eyes until we left, as I didn't want Florence to see how weak the situation was truly making me.
I never know what sort of tragedies will come into my life, as there's nothing I can do to prevent them. Even before we lost Bolts, I lost my husband. He passed away due to a severe illness that we couldn't treat. I was sure, in my mind, however, that, had we lived in the Capitol, they would have been able to easily save him. With the massive amounts of technology that they have and all the skills they possess in the medical field, surely, he would have been the one family member we could have saved and not had to watch suffer.
Unfortunately, I know that, whether Florence lives or dies in these Games, she will suffer, regardless, and there is absolutely nothing in my power that I can do to try to stop it. No matter how much I cry, yell, scream or shut myself away from the world, she will suffer. She will either have to suffer by dying in the Games, by killing others, or both. Even if she survives, she will have to live on as a killer, and I will feel guilt for that, even though there's nothing I can do about it. No matter what happens to my precious daughter, I will forever feel the guilt of the outcome. I lost my own brother to the Games, many, many years ago. When I was four years old, my older brother, Jeremiah, at the age of twelve, was chosen for the Hunger Games, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I may have been lucky enough to never have had to face the same fate, but he died one of the most terrible deaths I've ever seen in the Games, and I wished so much that I could erase the image of what happened from my mind, as well as prevent it from ever having happened. Not only was he decapitated, which has happened to many tributes before, but his body burned at the same time, and was later dismembered by his allies as a source of food. The worst part of it all was that his allies had betrayed him to kill him in this way.
My parents tried their best to comfort me throughout my childhood, especially after what had happened to Jeremiah. Unfortunately, it broke me and made me struggle to function properly for many of my childhood years. Eventually, years later, however, I met and married my husband and had many beautiful children. We also chose to adopt Florence and Joseph and call them our own. Now, however, my husband, Richard, is gone forever. Our eldest child, Bolts, is gone as well, having been burned to death in the Games. The terrible fate reminded me a bit of what happened to Jeremiah, making it all the more difficult to deal with. Whenever a tribute dies in flames, it makes my heart feel like it's going to break all over again, even if I don't know their name. Life still has its good parts, however. At least, I like to try to make the attempt to think that it does. I still have some of my loving children left in my life, and my parents are still alive, even if I don't believe that they will be for very long, due to their old age. My children resemble me, too, all having taken on my red hair. Oddly enough, the children my husband and I had felt closest to when choosing who to adopt look quite a bit like me as well. Florence and Joseph have the same vibrant hair color as I do. Many of my children also have the same green-brown eye color that I do, as well as a similar, pale skin tone.
It seems that one of my daughters, Cal, has even inherited polydactyly from me, and has an extra toe on her left foot. I have the same condition, except with two extras on my right foot. It doesn't seem to effect us all too much, but certainly did get us both a bit of teasing in our lives, unfortunately.
I've always been someone who's confident in their appearance, never afraid to dress to impress. I try my best to make sure that people respect me, due to how I decide to clothe myself. My children have often done the same in their lives, dressing nicely like me. My children, however, are often seen to be quite a bit skinnier than me, as I have a slightly more plump body type. I'm not ashamed of it, however, and like to embrace who I am. I hope that my personality shines through as a positive thing, at least in some ways. Sure, I'm often a mess, saddened and depressed, when it comes to any time around the Games. When the wretched Hunger Games aren't on my mind, however, my life is lived rather happily. I'd like to consider myself to be a very generous person, as I never would hurt another individual unless they harmed my family. I don't care if someone hurts me directly, but if you do something to someone I care about, I can get to the point of being quite mean and a bit sassy, as well.
My kind soul is something I'm proud of. I help others, and I thank them if they are to help me or my family. There was once a boy who helped Joule, shortly before the year we lost Bolts. She had fallen down, having slipped on some ice in the cold winter weather and hit her head. This boy, Tommy, had assisted her in getting home and I welcomed him in for dinner with the family. He was very kind and grateful for this gesture, which is how I felt about what he did, as well. It makes me feel good to make others happy, especially when they deserve it.
Now, it's my time to be as kind as I can to the world, even if its cruel to me. I often want to yell and scream at anyone who causes misfortune in my family members' lives, such as the people of the Capitol. I suppose the reason I don't act on this anger, however, is the fear of being killed or avoxed and leaving my family on their own. I could never abandon my family, as I know it would only make things worse for them. Although I do have my flaws of anger and such, I do my best to keep it in.