you hope it gets better . kari

o p a l .

"If this is to end in fire
Then we should all burn together
Watch the flames climb high into the night
Calling out father oh, stand by and we will"

Lysander Mae was the official victor of the 85th Hunger Games. Opal Earnest stared at her hand, chest feeling tight. The only thing stopping her from further being crushed under the pressure was the fact that Olivia had released her -even if only until next year. She let out a long sigh, feeling the way her chest deflated as she headed down to the medical wing of the training centre.

She wasn’t quite sure why she was doing this, but some part of her wanted to reach out to the young woman. Opal had watched the games; she had seen the hints here and there of the struggles and challenges Lysander must have faced back in district five. No teenager loses themselves to alcohol without a reason. It wasn’t that hard to notice that she spoke little of her family, venom in her words and eyes when she mentioned her father.

In all honesty, Patricia wasn’t the most caring person. There was a slight chance she would just beat Lysander to death with blunt words and unintentional cruelness. Opal didn’t find the idea of waking up to seeing Patricia a very appealing one. She wasn’t anywhere near as rough and sharp as she used to be, but she wasn’t exactly gentle either.

Who else was there? Opal wasn’t even sure if Lethe still existed.

The door was in front of her far too quickly, and she paused, fingers clenched by her side. This was the girl who had killed Jade, driven the knife into her heart to come home. But it wasn’t that reason that made her heartache, it was because here was another life about to be ruined.

Being a victor was not a gift. Opal’s eyes flickered to the bandages, she thought of her son lying, beaten and broken in a hospital bed. She thought of the cool stone beneath her hand as she sobbed in front of her husband’s grave.

It was just another cage, bars lined in painted gold. Underneath it was still the same, and over time the paint chipped off, once more exposing you to reality. No one could escape.

She knocked on the door, pausing for a moment before sliding it open.

“Hi, Lysander, how are you feeling?”