cling to ruin; beck & isobel blitz

There's a moment where her composure wavers. Isobel is not often caught off guard, but she is taken aback by the accusation that lies underneath Beck Hailsham's words.

She raises a sharp eyebrow at him. "You mean the memorial," Isobel states. "You believe I'm using tribute deaths as a means to win the election?"

She received thunderous applause after making the promise that if she won, she would have a memorial of all the tributes District Four has lost erected in the Town Square. Isobel didn't anticipate backlash for it, but she supposes Beck might be sensitive to the topic, since the 85th was his first time mentoring. To say that it was shocking to see District Four's tributes die back to back would be an understatement.

Her motive comes from both a place of selfishness and compassion. She has always valued the memory of the tributes of the Hunger Games, especially after losing Brooke. Even after all this time, she still feels that Brooke was the love of her life. She's married now with three children but there's still this hole in her heart that Brooke left behind. Isobel doesn't think it will ever go away, if it hasn't by now.

Ten years have passed. No one talks about the 75th tributes anymore, about Brooke. It's like she never existed at all; she lives only in Isobel's memory now.

The memorial would fix that. If only it could make her miss Brooke less, too.

Isobel blinks slowly as she registers the venom in Beck's voice.

"That is a strong presumption," she replies dryly. She isn't surprised that he doesn't know about her and Brooke Destin; she has only been asked about it once by a reporter. Isobel would have mentioned her in her speech, but she doesn't want to give her husband a reason to doubt her commitment to their marriage. She doesn't love him, she never has, but he is a good father to their children. Destabilizing their marriage by publicly bringing up an old flame would only hurt their family.

"Do you know who Brooke Destin was?" Isobel asks. She doubts that he does. Brooke was one of fifty-four tributes in the 75th. She died on the first day; the girl from Ten crushed her skull with her fist.

The tables have now turned; now it's her turn to catch him off guard. She takes note of the pink that flames in his cheeks, slightly darkened by the dim light of dusk.

Isobel is not disappointed that he doesn't know who Brooke is. She already knows she's the only one who cares, and maybe the Libertines, too.

Everyone had been so hopeful about River Destin's daughter, and she was all the talk of District Four when she volunteered for the 75th. Now, there are not even whispers. Just silence as her memory fades away and everyone goes on as if she never mattered.

But not her. Isobel can't just move on like the rest of them. She still remembers her last words, the ones she cried out before Scarlett's fist cracked her skull — "We don't have anything. Let them go!"

"It matters to me," Isobel replies. Her voice is even, despite how thinking of Brooke makes pinpricks scatter all over her heart. "She was a District Four tribute in the 75th — and she was also my girlfriend."

Her brows furrow slightly, the image of Brooke's lifeless brown eyes on the television screen flashing across her mind.

"It's been ten years. No one remembers Brooke anymore — and it's not just her. After a few years, everyone just forgets about the past tributes," she continues. People still remember Nat and Scout Krigel, but not because of who they were, but because of Leon. They don't matter to anyone anymore. Isobel never knew her other half-siblings, but once she knew they existed, she wanted to. She was just too late.

"The same thing will happen to Perdita and Dominic, too. It's something I've always wanted to change, and now, maybe I can."

Beck asks if she can truly change anything, and Isobel pauses for a moment. She believes that she can create positive change, that the memorial will make a difference, at least for the families who have lost children to the Games. It might be marginal, but to her, it's still worth trying.

"Nothing will bring them back," she says, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. "But the least we can do is not let them be forgotten."

She just doesn't want Brooke, Scout, Nat, or any of the other tributes to become mere footnotes in Panem's history. That's what they are now. Just ghosts on a silver screen.

"Would you want to forget? About Bell, about your mentees?" Isobel asks.

It certainly be easier to forget. To wipe everyone she loved and lost from her memory. She could have tried if she wanted to, drowned herself in bottles instead of spending every day wondering what her life would have been like had they not died.