gasoline . puppy . blitz

f i o n a

I had just a few moments of quiet and solitude curled up in bed reading a book Aster had left lying around. It was something I needed to savor, to soak myself in because every time I've felt those moments where I can drop my smile, my cunning words, my mask has been short-lived.

And just like all of these perfect moments where my grin can fall from my face as I engross myself in the text, alone in my now shared room, it was rudely interrupted by the face of one of my siblings.

They tell me Octavia wants to see me. And that I needed to go right away.

I remember back in the day when I thought Octavia liked me, that I thought I was special, that her kind words when she was adopting me were more than just a front. She doesn't like anyone.

It's clear that this has something to do with the mayoral shit coming up. Honestly, it scares me what Octavia would do to the other citizens of District Two. Maybe she'd just legalize murder to get Victor in the clear and move on with her merry way.

I take a small breath as I near her door, putting my small, timid, humble smile on my face, my mask.

"Fiona," she says as I enter the room, a shiver running down my spine, " You’re aware that you’re sitting at the bottom."

I keep my smile. The pain of Victor's hand on my cheek is faint ghost now, but the knowledge of what it means still fills my mind with daggers.

“Make sure you place your vote and I can rectify that.”

It's a threat, or maybe a compromise in her sick mind.

Without dropping my smile and say, "Who else would I vote for? There's no need for threats. You clearly have the best nonexistent platform."

I'm almost out anyways in my three ways that have been playing on repeat in my mind. Death, Victorship, or my escape.