This is going to be a two-shot, though I'm not entirely sure of when the next chapter is going up.
They tell me that my parents are scarred, emotionally, too deeply for me to possibly hope to heal. They tell me that they can never be cured, that I'll have to live my whole life awaiting the next outburst from my mother, waiting for the next time my father tenses up and holds onto something so tightly that it usually breaks. They tell me that it's unfixable, too complex to understand, too intricate for me to map out. They tell me so many things, but maybe it's not their job to tell me.
Maybe I need to find that out on my own.
My parents are former Victors of the Hunger Games, I know that much. I know that they defied the Capitol, that for a while, they lived in fear that everyone they loved would be taken from them, that there was no hope left for them, that they were going to either die, or live out eternity lonely, wasting their lives with drinks and medicines and depressants, numbing the pain that demanded to be felt. I know that my aunt, Primrose, my namesake, died in the final raid on the Capitol, a result of who knows whose bomb. I know that my grandma, the living one, resides in District Four, running the main hospital there, burying herself in other peoples pain so that she doesn't have to feel her own. I know that all my other family is dead, my grandparents on Dads side, and my father on Moms. This much I've learned, carefully eavesdropping and picking up information from the town gossips.
I've heard that District Twelve was a lot different before I was born, that there was a place called the Seam where all the poor people lived, and the town where all the wealthy people made their homes. I know this, but it's much different now. Everywhere is equal, the homes more spacious. Food is more abundant and there's less poverty, according to some of the more…bribable in the District.
There's more that I don't know, however. I don't know what exactly drove my mom to insanity. I don't know who 'Gale' is, I've heard that name screamed out many times, when my mother is woken from terrible nightmares. She screams, and she cries names that I do not know. Rue. Gale. Finnick. Boggs. Prim. I know that one, of course I know that one. It's the most frequent, and I often flatter myself with thinking that she's screaming out for me.
I know she's not.
I wander the streets of District Twelve at random. There's rumors circulating about whether I'm mad as well, but truth is, I'm not. Maybe I'm a little different than the others, maybe that's because my normal is other people's insanity, but I think I'm normal. Though crazy people never truly think they're crazy, do they?
Still, it's easier to pretend I am than to dispel the rumors, so I wander the streets daily, coins weighing down my pocket, purchashing from here or there, hoping for a spare scrap of gossip, something about my life that involves me, somehow. Today, I'm lucky.
"I heard he's coming back." An old woman whispers, passing an old shawl over to a younger one. The younger womans eyes widen as she rifles through her stocks.
"He's not." The older woman nods as the other one hands her a ball of yarn.
"He is. Come to see his brother be married or something or other. He'll be in town a few days."
"Reckon it's enough to drive her crazy?" The younger woman laughs a little, and the old woman cackles.
"Please, she's mad enough already. It doesn't take much to drive her over the edge." The younger woman notices me, and it's almost comical how quickly her face straightens. The older woman follows her gaze, and I settle my features into an unbothered smile as I skip lightly down the street. When I'm out of view, I slow to a walk, scuffing at the stones with my brown boot.
Who is 'he'? And why will he drive my mother away? My mom's the only.. unstable one in the District, I know they must have been talking about her. Their faces when they saw me only proves that. I continue walking.
I go into the bakery. The air is as warm and fragrant and comforting as always. I hop up onto the counter and sit, just staring at all the cakes and cookies and pies and bread.
"Cupcake, down. You're going to get the counter dirty." My father scolds, appearing through the set of doors that lead to the kitchen. He has a tray of cookies in his hands, still warm from the oven and freshly frosted. I leap down and snag one off the tray, taking a bite from it. "What am I going to do with you?" He laughs, putting the cookies into a display case on the counter.
"Tell me who's in town that mother's going to be scared of." I say bluntly, and I see my father freeze.
"Where did you—?" He turns back to me, and I just give him a pointed look. "I'll have to talk to Laurie about her gossiping when children are around."
"Dad!" I whined, smoothing the crumbs out of my dress.
"It's no one." He says, coming closer. He hugs me, his arms wrapping around me and picking me up. He spins me around a few times and despite my former resolve, I'm giggling and dizzy when he puts me down. "Run along, dear. Your mom will be fine." His voice is convincing, but I can see it in his eyes that he doesn't quite believe what he's telling me. Regardless, I grab another cookie and leave, the bell tinkling behind me as the door swings shut.
If my dad won't tell me, I'll just have to find someone who will.
I skip along towards the part of the District that used to be the Seam. If there's any place in the District to hear gossip, it's here. I don't have to wait long.
"Rory dear, many congratulations!" An older woman croaks out, and I can almost imagine her embracing him. Rory Hawthorne. As soon as I hear the voices, I slide in between two houses and wait, my ears picking up the whole conversation.
"Thank you, ma'am. I'm actually here to see if I could perhaps borrow Belle's wedding dress? Amber doesn't have one."
"Oh of course, dear, of course. Wait here a moment." A wedding dress? I put two and two together quickly. Rory Hawthorn is getting married, and there's someone coming for his brothers wedding that's going to drive my mother mad.
Gale Hawthorne is coming to town.
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