Never Forgotten
I slumped down on my bed, exhausted. I would've gone and talked to my little Primrose, but she seemed just as tired as I was. When we had gotten home from saying our goodbyes to Katniss she had gone straight to bed. I sat up and glanced at where Prim was laying down, clearly visible from my bedroom. Once glance at her assured me that she was fast asleep.
I laid there for over an hour before I decided that sleep would be impossible for me. Once again checking to make sure Prim was asleep, I quietly crept over to my bookcase. I reached into the little gap between it and the wall and carefully pulled out an old book.
I hadn't opened it in quite a long time; it had been sitting there so long it was covered in a thick layer of dust, which I quickly blew off. I ran my finger over the inscription on the cover.
It read "Tania," and below that, "Never Forgotten."
As I opened the book I stared at all the photos and suddenly I was flooded with all my old memories, buried under 16 years of newer ones.
Memories of Tania.
XX
Katniss is not my oldest child. When I was 20 years old, I had my first child, Tania. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair and expressive bright green eyes that betrayed her every emotion. She always smiled, and she always tried to make everyone else smile with her. She was a happy child.
And then, when Tania was but 12 years old, the Capitol took her from me. She got called in the Reaping, and unlike Prim she had no one to volunteer for her. So she was forced to compete in the 43rd Hunger Games, just a skinny 12 year old with no training.
She was killed within the first hour.
Memories of Tania have haunted me since the day she died, and they will probably haunt me for the rest of my life. I had previously opted not to tell my children about her, so that maybe I could spare them this harsh reality.
But by some awful twist of fate, it seems like history is repeating itself.
XX
THE END
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