Well, I've got thick skin and an elastic heart,
But your blade it might be too sharp.
Luxlee Graise, 11, District Four Citizen
I'll never understand my family. Just as they'll never understand me. They can be as fake as they want to each other, but why bother? We're dysfunctional, there's no denying that, so why pretend that everything is normal? Why continue with these fake smiles and the awkward encounters? We're broken, and there's no fixing us.
My father is the worse. He's turned heartless, and there's no saving him. And yet, my mother still tries. She continues to treat him as her king and seems completely unaffected by anything he does, even after the numerous beatings not only she, but me and Serenity have received. She'll watch as he tosses us around, and then rub his arm when it begins to get sore from all the hitting.
Serenity is just as bad though. Even after everything that has happened, she still prances around with that disgustingly fake smile on. She's still all about appearances, and she is still as vain as ever. I haven't even seen her cry yet. Not when it was all over, not when the beatings started, and not even when my mother told us it was our fault that father hit us.
I haven't stopped crying. Crying is all I seem to do anymore. I can barely pull myself out of bed most days, but no one cares. I'm eleven years old, and I don't want to be here anymore. How fucked up is that? I'd rather be gone than live the life I'm living. How fair is it that while other kids my age are out making childhood memories, I struggle to keep myself stable long enough to dress myself.
I'm nothing more than a kid, but I've been forced to grow up fast. And I don't know who I blame more for it; my family, or him.
Just under two years ago Evan volunteered. I had begged and I had pleaded, but anyone who knew Evan knew that once he set his mind to something, there was no changing it. And he had decided long ago that he was volunteering for the Games, and nothing I could do would ever change that.
It drove us apart. It was awkward. How could I have a normal conversation with him when I knew he had a chance of dying? It was all I thought about, and it was all we talked about. That is until we just stopped talking.
My parents and sister had quite the opposite opinion than me. They were full supporters of Evan's volunteering, but eventually he got as sick of talking about volunteering for the Games with them as he did with me.
One day we woke up and Evan was just gone. He didn't tell anyone, or leave a note, he was just gone. We searched but he had all but disappeared. It drove us even more apart, and made everyone in my house sick with worry. I guess that's probably when my depression started.
Evan didn't turn up until a few months later at the Reaping, where he stuck to his word and volunteered. By then he was unrecognizable; his once short hair had been grown out, and he must have doubled his weight in muscle alone.
When we went to say goodbye, he was cold and distant, barely talking to us other than to ask us politely to leave after only a few moments of being in the room.
My mother cried, and my father raged. It was that night when we saw Evan once again completely changed into a sex toy for the Capitol that my father hit my mother for the first time.
Over the next week, everything got worse. My mother and I didn't stop crying, and my father continued to spiral out of control until my mother couldn't even leave the house because of the bruises. I didn't leave my bed, my eyes glued to the screen as Evan fought his way through the Games.
I could probably count the number of hours I slept on one hand, and I can't tell you how much I cried over that week.
The feeling of relief when Evan won was overwhelming. I bawled, and screamed, and shook until I couldn't breath. My brother was coming home, I was going to get him back and everything was going to go back to normal.
Nine year old me couldn't be anymore naive.
It was only a few days after the Games when Evan had his interview. The one where he had announced he would be living in the Capitol for the remainder of his life. He tore me apart word by word, announcing there was nothing back in District Four for him, nothing at all.
He should have died in that arena. It would have been easier. I would have cried, and cried, but eventually I'd have gotten over it. It's a lot harder to get closure knowing he's still alive, still walking around and living his life, any thoughts of his little sister who once saw him as a god completely vacant from his mind.
Evan destroyed me, and there's no way I could ever recover from this. I should be dead, we should all be dead. We're barely living anyways, just struggling through life barely holding on. I don't blame Serenity for wanting to volunteer in a few years, the Games would give me everything I want; death, or answers.
I just can't decide which one I want more.
Song: Elastic Heart - Sia
A/N: Yes, viola I'm doing this? On my own this time how exciting I'm growing up! This one I'm on my own and alot older than I was so hopefully this one works out unlike certain other stories... Anyways, I'm opening it now because my exams are finally finished, and my next semester is pathetically easy, so I'd like a new project to work on.
I'm not doing a full open submission, mostly because I don't want to end up with a lot of submissions for certain spots and none for others. So there's a list on my profile which you may notice already has a few spots marked off. Once I have received a tribute I am for sure on I will update the list with their spot to avoid multiple good submissions to the same spot.
Other than that, submit if you want I guess? All other information is on my profile for you to take a gander at and I will see what you come up with!
Oh, and welcome to Sound of Silence!
