come out & play. jaci.

Ever since Violetta died I've been trying to be a better daughter, but so far it's pretty shit.

I think Jaci had the right idea, to throw up a middle finger and get the hell out of here. The world might have spat her out again, but at least leaving was on her own terms. I don't have enough fight in me to stick it to the man but at least I can throw a knife now - thanks Dad.

It's all well and good trying to make me a fighter in the off-chance I get reaped one last time, but we all know I'd get picked off in the Bloodbath. Elena, young. Elena, baby. Elena, prefers to collect flowers than body counts. I'm not good enough to run the family business but I'll happily clear up the champagne glasses if it means I'll be dismissed early. Some might call it weakness, but Jaci won the games and look what happened to her.

Vi went in gladly and, well, she's dead.

I'm not strong, but I'm also not stupid. I know when to mind my own business but I know when a smile is appropriate. The family across the footpath from us seem nice enough. I've thrown Mackenzie's sister a smile every other morning and she smiles back, what's her name - Maxine? Yeah. She seems tough. Rough around the edges. No wonder her brother came back. He seems to be doing alright, poster boy for District Seven. Jaci, though, well.

She's not doing too well.

Or at least I thought she wasn't. Mom and Dad could whine all they wanted about her being a shut-in, but I don't blame her. I don't tell them that, but I just leave her be. Being a Victor sounds crap anyways, I wouldn't want to be one. They are interesting people though, and it's hard to equate Jaci as one of them. My sister the celebrity, to me she's just Jacinta with the attitude like she's always been. Cold, so I try and make the house as warm as I can. Does crap all, but at least I'm trying.

"What's he like?" I ask her absent-mindedly, re-arranging the yellow flowers placed in a vase on the kitchen table.

"Mackenzie. Is he charming, or is that just an act?"

Sometimes I wish her frosty demeanour was an act. I might be the youngest but I'm not a child anymore - wishful thinking is pointless, so I love her anyways.

It's foolish to love a Victor - someone said that to me long ago. But she's my sister, after all. She can't help the way she is.

And I'm, well. I'm me.

[ listen ]