I wasn't always a hard-ass. I was different, once upon a time…happy. Before my fate was determined by the stupid Hunger Games. Before I lost the only man I would ever love. Before I had to murder innocent strangers. Before my whole family was murdered.
There was a time when I could run around outside after working with the lumber, a time when my friends were everything to me. The sun used to warm my shoulders, the trees making patterns on the grassy ground. And everything was just…fine.
But right now, looking out at the fading skyline, the cool breeze washing over me, my eyes scanning my recently destroyed home, it was hard to believe anything had ever really been fine.
Past
It couldn't be much past six in the morning. The sun was slowly making its way into the sky, brightening the landscapes. Looking out my window, I smiled, stretching my arms over my head. Today was going to be good. I knew it.
I heard my mother banging around in our kitchen as I walked out of the room I shared with my older sister, Viola. She was still asleep, as were my two older brothers, Joshua and Maxel, and my father, who rarely got up before eight oh clock. I followed the smell of cinnamon into the kitchen, feeling the cold wooden floor under my feet. I welcomed the smells of the kitchen. They were intoxicating, as wound together perfectly.
"Good morning, Johanna," my mother smiled, looking up at me from the counter where she was icing sweet cinnamon buns. My favorite.
"Good morning, mother," I replied, dancing over and swiping a bit of frosting off with my finger. Normally, my mother would swat me away, but today, she just laughed, her eyes twinkling the way Viola's did when she laughed. The way the blue and green mixed together, the way I wished my own brown eyes would. I pushed the thought away, swearing I would have fun today. After all, it was a special occasion.
"Do you have plans with Landon?" My mother asked, smiling down at her handy work. I stared out the open windows that sat above our little table. The trees branches were moving, as if waving hello to me.
"Yes, just after breakfast," I told her. Just then, footsteps alerted me, and I spun around, a grin spreading across my face. My father, with his dark curly hair and sleepy eyes, Viola, a smile so big it looked like it had been pasted on, and my brothers, yawning and smiling at the same time. It didn't happen often, having the whole family together for breakfast. So when it did, I treasured it.
"Happy seventeenth birthday, Johanna," my father said in his booming voice, smiling almost sadly, as if I was growing too old too quick, or maybe it was that I still had one more year until I was free of the threat of the Reaping. But I just smiled back at all of them. Today I wouldn't let anything get me down. Because today was my day.
