Luella Duval | District Eight | Fin

The last words my mother said to me still live within me.

"Panem is falling."

She had said to me with tears in her eyes four years ago. Teary eyed words I never understood until my parents came home in unmarked black body bags; their hearts live on with me. I can still remember the way I stared at their bodies, unflinching because we've gone through hell and ended up back to where we started. I still wonder if there was anything more I could have done for my mother and father who ran off at the first sign of war. Could I have stopped them from running off to their death? I stared at their bodies at the age of fourteen, wondering if they missed me, wondering if they wanted to tell me they loved me still, wondering if I will be able to hold myself higher than before. Panem fell that day, but not in the way my mother and father wanted.

Panem fell for me; a girl who lost her parents at a young age.

I'll be forever grateful for my Nana and Papa. They've held my hand when we ran away from the center of Eight to the cabin we used to go to in the summer months, built me a safe space to breath as far away from the war that we could get, even with the peacekeepers who constantly visited with whitened outfits and angry voices searching for rebel sympathizers. I remember the days we ran through the streets of Eight as a young girl, carrying what we could to avoid the fighting that came onto our streets. The cries of Eight ringing in my ears as the sound of fires and bullets echoed along my heart, breaking my heart. Reaching our cabin had been the only safety we got for the first few weeks of the war starting, my Nana brushing her hands against my cheeks to block the tears of my heart.

Nothing prepares a person for war; no matter how ready Panem was for a war. No one cared for the innocents stuck in the middle, I had learned that the first day of being at the cabin when Nana had opened our doors to the twins who had cried on the steps. Begging for safety, protection from the world out there, and all I could do was stare from the corner, watching them come into our cabin wondering what happened to their parents. I wish there had been more I could have done to help them back then, but Panem was broken and I was scared. The twins gave my Nana the idea of protecting the kids left behind, kids like me, and that's how I went from being the only kid with my grandparents to one of the oldest who wanted to help everyone else.

Panem didn't fall just for me, but it fell for all of them too.

For the years after that, I remember we had become the safe place for all the kids left without a roof over their head or a family to go home to. Kid after kid with tears in their eyes and silence in their voices coming in with anger in their hearts, but we showed them compassion. I played with kids who had watched their parents die, bled in front of them, and all I wanted to do was give them a smile once more. Watch their world come back to them and give them that humanity that we all had needed back then. I didn't know how important I was to others then, but I do now. I remember when the keepers would come in and accuse my Nana and Papa of hiding rebels within their walls, but we never backed down. We were compliant, but we didn't accept what the keepers threatened us with. Nana and Papa stood up for them. Kids left behind from a war none of us had wanted.

My Nana and Papa had defended them, but they weren't the only ones. Standing in front of a peacekeeper should have been frightening at age fourteen, but I never stood down. The twins were the first who I stood before with my arms held wide like I could make a difference, but it was enough for the keepers to give up for the day. Enough for them to stay away, but always come back over and over again. I was thirteen the first time I stood up to a peacekeeper. I was fourteen the first time a keeper decided to make me move. Bruises on my arms from colliding with the wall as I shouted at them. My Nana held me for minutes as the keeper took one of the teens away, claiming he was a rebel.

It wouldn't be the first time.

It may never end.

My Nana and Papa had put their heart into the orphanage, wanting to raise kids like me for the rest of their lives. Nana always wanted more kids, but she hadn't been able to have any more after my mother. In a way, this was her legacy in every way. In a way, it was my legacy too, built from the aching emptiness of my own heart that my parents left in me. When the war ended, we built it stronger than before, held kids who were lost and I stayed there taking care of kids like me. Watching myself grow with the pain of the war on our shoulders, but life still moved on in our safe haven. Tears, laughter, and voices lived within the walls of the cabin. It was the best and worst years of my life. I wanted to keep them for as long as I could.

When the war ended, Panem grew back in their communities, rebuilt their infrastructure once more. The world had suffered so much and I had been so happy back then, until I saw my parents' dead bodies with empty eyes and two fatal wounds in the head. My Papa set out on finding any of the parents he could within the confines of Eight, trying to give the kids of the orphanage a home once more. In the end, only a few made it back to their loved ones. Many of the others were like me, without a mother or a father to go home to. My Nana and Papa promised to take care of me, built up a strength that couldn't compare. Every day was a struggle, but we made it work.

The orphanage was my Nana's dream. The orphanage was my home. I spent the rest of my youth helping my Nana and Papa around the orphanage. It was only a year after the war when Papa got very sick, stuck in bed for days on end. Sitting with him always hurt in the worst ways, nothing prepared me for watching one of the only people who stood up for me waste away. Holding his hand on his deathbed had been a bittersweet moment, knowing that Papa had changed so many lives, but lost his own in the process. His last words were to me; a love that transcended the pain of Panem's ruin.

"I love you, Ellie"

On that day, my nana broke into tears. The world stopped turning and I was so angry at everything. I wanted to scream and shout out everything I was feeling. Pain doesn't disappear, but it's burn grows weaker and weaker with time. Eventually the pain dulled, but not without consequences. Arguing with other kids and putting myself in front of the Peacekeepers who claimed the orphanage held rebels even after the war was over. They didn't leave us alone after it all ended. They didn't give us time to mourn my papa, every few months they still came with weak claims threats to loom over us. Rumors spread about the dreaded games they played with the children once every year. Forced to murder, forced to kill, forced to fight like the war before.

Wasn't it exhausting?

War never ends.

Someone always loses.

In the end, it was us; the children of Panem.

"Luella Duval!"

Blinking back to the present, I jump slightly at the sight of Nana standing across the room. Weary eyes staring back as her arms are crossed, she's leaned against the wall in that clear message of the fact that I should be in bed asleep. A sigh falls from my lips, leaving me feeling more and more barren than before as my eyes stare into the fireplace where cinders still reside. One of the twins had been out here silently sipping from a mug of tea, pretending like her past isn't haunting her just like my own doesn't haunt me. Sometimes, I can't breathe and all I can do is hold onto what's already here. The ugly wallpaper we put up last summer or the crackling cinders of the fire, anything to keep me feeling here in the moment.

"Sorry, it's been a rough day."

My voice feels exaggerated in the cold open air, but it wasn't a lie. Not on a day like this, where it's been four years since my parents' dead bodies were left on the porch of the orphanage. Nana had to have known and from the way her eyes droop in forgiveness is all it takes to calm my nerves. Arms wrap gently around my side, letting my Nana envelope me in a hug that's warmer than the fire. I love her so much. I don't know what I would do without my Nana who does the best that she can. It's rare to get a single moment alone with her, but when I get the chance, I always jump at the opportunity. When she relaxes, I linger nearby, hand just a brush away from begging her to stay.

"Nana?"

The room is silent as the dead fire dares to crackle.

"I love you."

Her smile envelopes me just like her hug.

"I love you too, sweetie."

Before she can leave, there's a loud knock across the room. Our eyes meet in the same moment, knowing who it'll be. Keepers liked to come around this time when the house was settling down and it would be less of a hassle with more people sleeping. The reaping was around the corner too, which always meant they were on the hunt. A chill runs down my spine as Nana waves over to me, beckoning me to make sure the others were safely in bed or away. A nod is all it takes before I am moving up the stairs, two at a time. Fingers shaking as I reach the doors where my found family lives, snuggled into their beds.

"Keepers are here. Wait in your rooms and don't leave them until Nana says so."

Silently, I approach the door where the twins spent their recent lives in. Slipping through the door, hugging Analise to my chest as Amira stands nearby with those protective eyes. We've always stayed close since they first ended up on our porch. Ana and Amira were basically my siblings through and through now. We wait in silence as I peek through the crack in the door, noticing Nana talking with the two keepers who are there looking annoyed at her. The way they look down upon my Nana always made me feel so sick. Sometimes, I wonder if this was how my mother had felt before the war happened.

"Ma'am, there's been rumors about two kids passing information to the remaining rebel units that are still active. We've been sent here to find out the truth. If you could-"

Nana huffs as she puts her foot down, staring the younger men up, holding herself tall. It's not the first time I've seen my Nana stand up to Keepers who looked at her like the crazy old woman people made her out to be at times. Hands at her sides in a way to make herself seem less of threat, but I knew my Nana could protect someone if pushed to that point. Nana's stepped in before when Keepers get handsy with kids. The words fall from her lips with the strength I always admired.

"Sorry, but the kids are asleep in their rooms like I said they would be, if you could kindly leave officers."

Except, they never do. Instead the door opens, where Analise and Amira move to their beds, hearts beating in their chests. My eyes follow them and then come back to the two Keepers as they look at me. Recognition in their faces, I know them. I know these Keepers from the times before when they tried to take Analise away from Amira. Weak claims about their mother being a rebel spy, but in the end, their mother had died just like my own mother and father. A chill runs down my spine as I stand in front of the door, arms crossed. Eyes glancing up and down the Keepers because I already know.

They are looking for trouble here.

"I'm sorry officers, but we're trying to sleep."

Silently, they soak up my presence, pretend like they are assessing if I am a threat or not. It's easy to notice the way their vision lingers on my arms and the glare I've got present on my face. After a moment, they back down, grumble to one another before my Nana is pulling them kindly out the door. When the door shuts, I let myself crumble. Softness falling back onto my features as I silently, step back to the extra bed in the room, collapsing backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, counting the dots of white. Every time, I expect the violence they gave my mother. Every time, I can see the way their hands tense up with the need to do what they used to be able to do without consequence.

War changes everyone.

War never goes away.

One day, those specific Keepers will break.

I am lucky, today was not the day.

Silently, I watch the twins, stare emptily at the walls, lingering eyes glancing to me every so often. It's like this every time the Keepers come. Worry bleeds in our veins for the visits, but as long as there was no actual proof, Nana and I figured out how to stay away from it. Standing our ground would only work for so long, but I had faith in the need to lock away children to die down over the next few years. A sigh leaves my lips as I turn over, letting my eyes droop closed.

They were fine.

We were fine.

I am fine.

The reaping was coming up, a new worry for all of us in the orphanage, but only a few of us could even be picked. Rumors have spread over the past few years they've been doing it, that the names were pulled from known rebels. The first games, no one even knew what had happened to the kids. The second was more clear, but the people who spoke up were taken away. The third one had lead to a calmer setting, but every year, I can feel it in my gut. Sooner or later, the orphanage would lose another kid to this pain that never ends. A deep breath falls from my chest as I let my mind settle.

We were fine.

We've been fine.

None of us were known rebels.

If only, it could have ended up that way.

Trouble always seemed to find me.