"You stupid worthless creature!"

My mother's voice echoes in my ears. I push down the tears that threaten to cascade down my cheeks with a practiced ease. The ugly purple bruise on my forearm throbs slowly, each pulse bringing with it fresh pain, and a new barrage of remembered words that hurtle through my mind. As I gaze at anything but the contusion on my arm, I consider the promise I make myself daily. When I have children, things will be different. Parents are role models, how do children learn by but watching and copying?

The school bells snaps me from my reverie. I dread to think of what awaits me at home, but dawdling will by no means improve my prospects. As I trudge across the bustling schoolyard, I glance around for a glimpse of that face, the one that makes my stomach flutter. But instead, my heart sinks as I survey the familiar scene.

I see the way she looks at him, that wild hunter from the Seam. Everybody does. It's written all over her face: the baker's son will never be enough for her. A mundane existence in the town was never an option for her. No, she desires passion and excitement - regardless of how many rules, and hearts, she breaks along the way. She disgusts me.

But I see the way he looks at her. To him, she is the most perfect creature that has ever graced this earth. His eyes light up whenever she walks in the room. She is all bright blue eyes, long blond braids and fine linen dresses. He is besotted. And beyond clueless.

The day is coming soon, I am certain. She will run off to the Seam with Everdeen, and his heart will be broken beyond repair. I feel sick to my stomach as I imagine the day my baker boy's sparkling blue eyes fill with tears. I just pray it is sooner rather than later.

"You stupid worthless creature!"

My mother's voice echoes in my ears as the words come flying from my mouth. I struggle to push down the equal parts fury and terror that well up inside of me. The ugly red welt across his face screams at me silently, each tear that falls from his face bringing with it fresh pain and blinding rage. I turn away swiftly, desperate to look at anything but the evidence of my wrath. I search for anything to distract me from the words that quickly rise to the surface of my consciousness. When I have children, things will be different. A cold laugh escapes my throat at the thought of my young naïveté. After all, parents are role models, how do children learn by but watching and copying?

Later, as the peal of the school bell echoes across the town square, I imagine my son walking across the bustling schoolyard. I am certain that at this very moment he is searching the crowd for a glimpse of her. It's a familiar scene.

I've seen the way she looks at him, that wild hunter from the Seam. It's written all over her face: the baker's son would never be enough for her. Even eking out an existence in the Seam was never an option for her. No, she desires the wild - regardless of how many laws, and hearts, she breaks along the way. She disgusts me.

But I see the way he looks at her. To him, she is the most perfect creature that has ever graced this earth. His eyes light up whenever she walks by the bakery. She is all smouldering grey eyes, long brown braids and dirty hunting jackets. He is besotted. And beyond clueless.

The day is coming soon, I am certain. She will run off to the Wild with the Hawthorne boy, and his heart will be broken beyond repair. I feel sick to my stomach as I imagine the day my youngest boy's sparkling blue eyes will fill with tears. Seam trash. Always the same.