a/n [My attempt at a District Two character. Yeah, she's pretty messed up, but also kind of human? I tried. For Estoma.]
Once, in a house hidden underneath the black of the night sky, buried behind mountains and mountains of snow piles and stone, a girl slept. Curled beneath layers of blankets, she looked small. She didn't look the type of girl who—no matter how many times she washed and scrubbed her hands raw—had the blood of half a dozen children caked under her nails.
It's in the young hours before dawn when two soft eyes blink up at her, smiling kindly, and she wakes up from the dream in a panic, hair wild and hands clutching her chest. Like always, she bites down on her tongue hard until she's met by the familiar taste of blood. It's the only way to remind herself that she's still the monster, not to be trusted, meant to be feared.