You can never escape the past.
Aimee walked quickly through the streets of District 12. She had a clear destination in mind. She knew she shouldn't be here, she knew the risk she was taking. But she had to do it, she just had to do this. There was a slight wind and it whispered through her long brown hair, whipping it up slightly. She had her head down, as she always did when she was here. She knew they talked, she heard them. They had seen her games, they knew what she had done in the past. As much it pained her to admit it, she simply could not feel any hate towards them. They knew who she was, what she had done all those years before.
She reached a small house. She hesitated, needing to take a deep breath. Her hand shook slightly as she pulled a small key out of her pocket. She slipped it into the key hole, her hand resting there once more in hesitation. It took a few moments for her to slowly turn it. With a click, the door opened just a crack, and she could see a sliver of darkness. With one final deep breath, she pushed it open with the palm of her hand. Taking the key out of the lock, she entered and closed it begin her. She stood in the darkness, though she knew the layout of the building. She had lived in this house from when her parents had died, up until she had been reaped into the games.
She moved forwards through the darkness, picturing the furniture in her head. To the left she knew was a small side table, to the right the stairs leading up. After half a dozen short steps, she reached what she knew was the kitchen door. Her hand went down to the door knob and she turned it. It swung open on it's on, and at last light hit her, and after the darkness of the hallway, she had to blink several times.
Her eyes traveled over the small, neat kitchen. She grimaced slightly when she saw it was the same way she had left it, many years before. Her eyes sought out what she needed. On top of a cabinet sat a large tin box. Inside was what she needed. She took another deep, shaky breath and moved forwards, lifting her hands up to grip onto it. She lowered it, and turned back to the table that sat in the centre of the room. She went to it, setting the box on top.
It was now that the doubt almost took over. now when she had the most trouble making her arms move. She stood for maybe 5 minutes, she didn't know. It could just as easily have been a few seconds, but she wasn't keeping time. Today, for this, she didn't need to. She had made sure of that. She lifted the top off, needed to use some force as the top had rusted to the tin slightly. Finally however, it slid off. She still did not sit down at the single chair. It was a luxury she did not deserve, and she knew it full well.
She lifted some pictures out, spreading them across the table. In one, she was stood with her twin. They were roughly the same height. She smiled softly at this one, another was of her, her twin, their older brother, their younger and his twin, her only sister. Their parents were stood behind them, it was a proper family shot. They looked happy. She sighed, and a tear came to her eye as she thought back to that time. She had often wondered how different her life could have been if only her parents had never died.
Next out of the box came a silver whistle. It had been her fathers. She softly ran her fingers over it, smiling softly as she did so. She could almost smell him. Her hands reached into the box, and what came next was the one she had come to see. It was a picture of her grandmother, but it had appeared to change since she had last seen it. Her grand mother had been smiling, of that she was pretty sure. Now, a stern, angry looking women was in the picture. The look was one of hate, she dropped the picture, looking around. She could hear her, whispering in her ear that she could never escape the past.