Lost Girl

by Hanamiya Makoto

My name was Clove, like the flower. I was fourteen when I was murdered in the 74th Hunger Games. My murderer was a boy from District 11. Cato asked him to be part of the Career Pack, but he refused, and I talked to him once about how I didn't kill Rue.

1. Missing

My voice has gone missing. Is it flitting among the trees in the forest where I sent it out looking for my missing taste? Is it hiding in the scented roses, pushing itself further into the dazzling maze of petals as I frantically, blindly search the flower beds for my missing sight? What happened to my reliable touch as I wandered through the endless corridors of my empty house, hoping to find my altering, missing hearing?

Had I lost all my senses but one now? Did I have to wander the earth's lone, empty floor desperately trying to find a world gone black and invisible? I was lost, missing in an endless plain composed of only smell. I was hidden from myself in a place far away and confusing. My soul is about to go missing now, drifting away from a useless body, deprived of all its senses but the broken one, the unstable one, not even strong enough to flee and go missing too or was it just sympathy? Did my sense only stay because it was sorry? Sorry I was dying inside, sorry that the rest was lost, as my heart was, apart from one tiny piece that kept me anchored to my unfortunate, tortured prison of a life?

Now it is too late to find irretrievable things. Too late to see, hear, touch or taste again. I will fade and blacken, melt and leak, painfully float away from a missing life, missing world, missing hope.