and always, the anguish. | hop & marnie blitz.

I have an awful, hollow feeling building in me. It's normal to feel strange when the reaping approaches, especially knowing my name's in there a few more times this year because we're short on grain, but this feels odd. Foreign. I can't quite name it. The usual nerves are there, the harrowing uncertainty of what will happen to me in the square. But I'm also feeling sad, like I'd let something drift away without realising how valuable it was.

I don't want to die. Not really. But what's a life worth if I can't do something great with it? Dad says I'm wallowing in Piers' shadow, using it as an excuse to be brash or reckless. Doing strange things like standing up in the middle of class and walking out of school without a word, putting candlelight out with my fingertips, cutting my hand on a can opener and letting it bleed. There's something wrong with me. I feel dysphoric, out of place, guilty, almost.

Guilty for not being great - if only for a second.

The reaping edges closer and closer and I can taste the tingling on my lips. Feel the daring start to churn in my chest. Temptation to thrust my hand up and take a final chance on myself - if only to be more that Piers Kuro's sister for a week or two. It's tiny. A spark in a piece of ash, so easily scuffed out without much effort. But I don't. And it terrifies me.

So I knock on Hop's door, because he always makes me feel better, always listens to me when I'm acting crazy. Reminds me that life is worth living if he's around.

"Hop, you in?" I call through the rickety door. "I brought sandwiches!"