District Five Introductions: Hope for the Best
Trigger Warning: Mentions of depression, drug addiction and suicidal thoughts in Solomon's section.
Luna Nguyen, 17.
District Five Female.
Staring ahead, Luna looks at the white wooden door with a blank gaze. The paint is peeling along its edges; it's been long overdue for a new coating for years now. In the center lies the faint outline of the letters of her brother's name: SOLOMON. A long time ago she remembers painting the letters with her brother, splattering paint onto the wooden blocks her parents bought them as gifts for their 6th birthday. Her brother's letters were yellow; her letters were blue.
She remembers laughing as they drew little cat whiskers on each other's faces, then purring and meowing like a tiny kitten. Her brother was giggling too, the large gap where his two front teeth were slowly growing in visible he was smiling so wide.
She also remembers standing still and silent as he ripped the wooden letters off years later, tearing small holes in his door where the nails had once held them firmly in place. They're still there now, pin-sized gaps in between the faint outline of where the letters once were. He was screaming as he pried them off; she was just staring. Just as she stares now at the phantom of the happy life her brother and they once shared, as faded and distant as the faint outline of the letters on the door.
Blinking, Luna sighs. She doesn't know why she does this anymore. She's stood in this same spot a thousand times, but each attempt ends the same. Every time her brother pushes her further away, making the ever-growing gap between them even wider.
However, maybe this time it will be different.
Maybe this time her brother will say yes.
"Sol?" Luna whispers, her voice so soft it paled in comparison to even the smallest mouse's squeak.
No response. She sighs, trying again.
"Sol?" She asks, a bit louder this time.
"Go away," her brother's sour voice hisses from the other side of the door.
She sighs, letting her chest fall and rise slowly. "Hey, Sol. Want to do something with me?" The young girl murmurs, taking a tiny step forward.
"I said go away."
Luna raises her chin. "How about painting? We can paint whatever you want."
"No, I don't want to paint. Just leave me alone."
"O—okay," Luna stutters, her faint smile curling into a frown. "Are you sure? We don't have to paint, we can do something else too."
"No!" He replies bitterly, raising his voice. "I already said I wanted to be left alone! Why doesn't anyone listen to me? I hate you! Just get out of here!"
Luna opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. Tears well in her eyes, shimmering in the dim light. For a while, there's only silence, the steady beating of her heart the sole thing ringing in her ears.
She finally finds the words. "I listen to you," she breathes softly, her voice barely audible once more. Her few friends always tell her she's as quiet as a tiny mouse; her teachers always prod her to speak up in class when they call on her.
There's no response on the other side of the door. Something shuffles inside then it is quiet again.
"I listen to you," she says louder, more confidently this time.
There is another pause before her brother's voice roars again. "JUST GO AWAY!"
Her shoulders droop sadly. Taking a deep breath in, she lets the sour smell emanating from her brother's room fill her nose. She knows what it is; she wishes she didn't.
Luna's long black hair follows her as she turns away, back to the creaking stairs that lead to the kitchen below. She's about to walk down them when she hears a low sobbing on the other side of the rotting door, almost silent but still there; a reminder to her that her brother, despite the walls he put up around him, did listen to her after all.
She turns back, taking a tiny step forward.
"I just want you to know that I love you," she breathes, "even if you hate me, I'll always be there for you."
Then she turns and leaves, heading down the stairs into the kitchen. There, her parents are sitting at their dining table with one missing leg holding piles of bills in their hands. Luna knows most of them are for Solomon's psychotherapy and medications he takes to lessen his depressive symptoms. Just out of their sight, Luna pauses on one of the higher steps and listens.
"How are we going to pay for all these?" her mother mutters, letting the papers sift through her hands and fall back onto the grimy table's surface.
Her father shrugs, not responding right away. "I—I don't know," he stutters. "But we'll find a way, we always do. Maybe Luna and Solomon can take a few more tesserae."
"But they already take out so much. What if they get reaped?"
"They won't," her father responds confidently.
"But—"
"They can't. The odds are in their favor. There are plenty of other kids who take out tesserae for their families, even in Five. Statistically, it can't be them."
"Well—"
"It can't be."
They are silent again. Luna gulps and continues down the steps, quickly ducking into another room before her parents can say hello. It's not that she doesn't like to talk to them, she very well does, but right now, she knows they have a lot on their plate. They both work two jobs to pay for the expensive treatment for Solomon's illness and are downright exhausted more often than not. It's better for all of them if she gives her parents space when they are home. They already have one kid to worry about; they don't need two.
She hurries outside to where Radiance, her best friend, and Quentin, her boyfriend, are waiting patiently for her on the front steps.
"How'd it go with Sol?" Radiance asks, tilting her head to the side.
Luna doesn't respond, giving her friend a weak smile. While Radiance still looks slightly confused, but Quentin seems to have gotten it, her lack of response all the information he needs.
"It's his decision, alright? Your life can't solely revolve around him. He's his own person and makes his own choices. It's not your fault," Quentin consoles. He stands and gives her a tight hug, and she nods her head slowly. "Plus, maybe he'll want to join us next time. You never know."
"Yeah, maybe next time," she echoes, her normal toothy smile returning to her face.
Her smile seems to prove infectious, for Radiance begins to grin too. "Alright, are we ready to go? We're still on for painting and some reading, right?"
"Right!" Quentin and Luna chorus in unison.
"Good, because I got a ton of new books from the library. I wouldn't want them to go to waste."
Quentin laughs, placing his arm around Luna's shoulder. "Sounds good. You want to lead, Lulu?"
Rolling her eyes, Luna punches Quentin's side gently. "I told you not to call me that!" She exclaims, twisting her face into a mock grimace. He just laughs, resting his head on top of her's and hugging her tighter.
"I don't think you could be mad at me if you tried. Or anyone, rather," he teases, beginning to walk. For the rest of the walk, the three of them tread in silence, Luna's mind drifting back to her depressed brother.
He'll come around eventually. She knows he will. He has to.
Or, she at least has to hope. Right now, that's one of the only things they have left.
Solomon Nguyen, 17.
District Five Male.
He hates group therapy.
Twice a week, his parents drag him out of from his dark and safe room into the horribly bright and overly lit building aptly named Bright Futures. It on the nice side of town, away from the slummy ghettos and crumbling apartments with rotting wood and discolored bricks where they live. It's where all the rich people go, which makes him detest it even more.
He knows his parents can't afford it. They work dead-end jobs in the power plants scraping the gunk off the walls and making sure the nuclear reactors don't get too hot. Before he began to get treatment, his parents could barely put food on the table, let alone have extra money afterward. They certainly cannot afford for him to talk for two hours twice a week about his feelings.
Solomon knows his parents are at wit's end with him. He knows they are sick of working 80 hours a week and giving up their lives so that he could have a chance at trying to make his a good one. However, they won't stop. They love him too much. They love him so much that they'll ruin their own lives, desperate to find a treatment that actually works even if it has a price tag too expensive for them to pay. Even if it kills them, they'll find a way to make him better.
Sometimes he wonders if it would be better if he was dead. That way, his parents could live normal lives. Luna would no longer blame herself, and his family would no longer have to worry about him. It seemed that without him, everyone would be happier.
"Welcome everyone to the first class of the winter group session of Bright Futures," his therapist, Dr. Pan, begins. He's had a few sessions with her before, and he likes her; she's patient and understanding, and never probes him. However, he is sometimes frustrated with her attempts to treat his depression. To him, relief is hopeless. She believes it can be fixed, but he doesn't. Nothing, not psychotherapy, not medication, can cure him. The only thing that can provide him some sort of relief is morphling; it numbs his pain; it makes it so he can't feel anything.
"I'm Dr. Pan, and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me. Remember, this is a supportive, nonjudgmental and confidential space, meaning anything that anyone says here stays here. We are all here to help each other get better, and the only way we can do that is to have an open mind and an open heart. Understood?"
"Understood," the group murmurs, their voices almost sounding like a unified chorus. Solomon looks around, his dark eyes scanning the group. There are about a dozen people sitting in a circle, some of whom he recognizes from school and previous therapy sessions. Other people are complete strangers; an older woman of about sixty with greying hair sits directly across from him, a boy with tanned skin and dark bags reclines two seats away. He wonders why they are here, and if their families are sacrificing so much to give them hope of getting better.
"Alright," she declares, her pale grey eyes resting on a middle-aged woman sitting a few seats down from him. He recognizes her from the summer session; she's been here for about a year and a half, ever since her son died in the Hunger Games. "Mrs. Williamson, would you like to start us off? For now, just tell us your name and why you're here if you are comfortable with that. If not, you can just say your name."
The woman nods mutely, her eyes grazing the group. "I'm Mary Williamson. Many of you probably know me as the wife of the former mayor of Five, and I'm here because I've been suffering from depression ever since my son died in the 10th Hunger Games."
Solomon feels a cold shiver run down his spine, and he looks away. A few years ago he and Dr. Pan discovered the root cause of his depression to be from watching the Hunger Games every year; watching the tributes die made him sad and hopeless. He didn't understand how their government could sacrifice innocent children to live out some twisted revenge plan they had. It made him sick to his stomach thinking about how the Capitol made a show out of it, parades, interviews, broadcasts, everything about it just made him want to puke.
"Thank you," Dr. Pan replies, turning to the next person in the circle. "And you there? Would you like to go next?"
It's the boy with sun-kissed skin and dark bags under his eyes that Solomon has never seen before. However, he looks about his age, his eyes are still vibrant and bright, and his skin is without wrinkles and blemishes.
"I'm Brighton Lanell," the boy murmurs so softly Solomon has to crane his head and perk his ears to hear. His mouse-like voice reminds him of his quiet sister who can barely speak loudly as well. "And I—and I—and I—"
Dr. Pan blinks. "It's okay, you don't have to give us a reason. Your name is enough. Welcome, Brighton."
"Thanks," he mutters quietly.
Turning toward him, Dr. Pan nods her head in a signal that he's next.
"I'm Solomon Nguyen," he grumbles, looking away from the two dozen eyes staring right at him. He's always been a somewhat quiet kid, even before he was diagnosed with clinical depression. At school, he rarely raised his hand and mostly only spoke when the teacher called on him, yet he did have some friends. Luna has always been the quieter one, which was why his parents were so surprised when it turned out to be him who was screwed up in the head, not her. However, both of them never enjoyed public speaking.
Dr. Pan nods her head, nudging him on.
"And I'm uh—depressed. We don't really know why, but Dr. Pan and I speculate it's because of watching the Hunger Games. I also take a lot of morphling. I've tried to stop, but I can't. It all just sucks. Everything sucks. My life sucks. I hate everything, and I wish life would just fuc—"
"Okay, that's enough Solomon, I think we get the picture," Dr. Pan cuts him off. "Thank you for sharing though."
Everyone nods and Dr. Pan continues onto the next person in the circle until they've all gone and introduced themselves. He finds that most of the people here are, just like him, depressed and suffer from addiction issues.
"Alright. Since we're now all acquainted with one another, would anyone like to share some coping mechanisms they use to deal with their problems?"
Solomon sighs, reclining back in his chair. He wishes he could just go home, curl up in a tiny ball in his dark room and sleep. Despite what his parents and Dr. Pan think, these sessions don't help him, and they certainly won't cure him. To him, they're just a waste of time and money. The only thing that helps him cope is taking morphling; nothing else he's tried has worked. He doubts after four years of trying new things and watching them fail anything will change.
However, he has an idea, an idea that will solve all his problems and numb his pain, an idea that will make his parents financially stable again and make Luna stop feeling guilty for the downward spiral he's been on since he woke up one morning when he was thirteen and felt horribly and utterly helpless. They won't have to struggle and he won't have to suffer.
If he wins, his parents will have enough money to live in luxury for the rest of their lives, and if he loses, he'll be put out of his misery forever. There will be no more days where he feels like it'd be better if the world was going to end, and there will be no more days where his parents come home looking like undead zombies. His idea will solve all their problems.
Yet, he can't tell anyone about his idea. People are already worried enough about him, they don't need to be even more so. He can't tell his parents, Dr. Pan, and most of all, he can't tell Luna. It'd just completely brake her.
He's going to volunteer for the Hunger Games.
A/N: District Five is in the books. Hope you enjoyed this pair of siblings, I'm not usually a fan of siblings but my sun and moon pair are just great! I can't wait to tear them apart in the games :) (Don't look at me funny, we're Hunger Games writers after all!)
Tell me what you think of them, and expect District Six to be up next weekend. Then, we're halfway done. Woooo!
paper :)
