Diana Riverton, age 18, District 5, Female
I was at home now. Washing the blood from my fresh cuts. The water wasn't clean but I didn't care. The icy water cursed through my veins sending my body into shock. But I was used to the pain now.
"Diana dear, coming?" my grandmother called me downstairs. 65 and still living. She was all the family I had left. My three brothers had died in the rebellion. So had my parents. they had chosen to rebel against the capitol. I had told them not to. To stay neutral, but if someone truly believes in something... You won't be able to stop them.
I remember the day. They were protesting, uprising with the other rebels of our district. The peacekeepers arrived seconds later. It took about five minutes to kill the mob. I remember coming outside to a street full of lifeless bodies.
My mind was spinning, my face turning green. I had ducked under my bed when I heard the gunshots being fired.
Then it was the final straw when my eye caught those of my mother's body. I slowly backed up and shut my brown eyes. When I opened them once more, i realized that my mother' body was resting on my father's. My brothers' next to them. All staring in different directions. My mother's in mine.
I had screamed, cried. My grandmother took me in after that. She had been too old to rebel. Good thing too. If the stupid rebels hadn't persuaded my family to join them they would be here with me today! And instead of cutting, my brothers Andrew and Jacob would be teaching me something cool. Ian would have been off to college.
My eyes started swelling but I held back the tears. I gritted my teeth forcing them to stay dry.
"June's over!" Her voice rang clear through my head. I quickly finished rinsing the blood away. Covered my mocha arms with my sleeves and prayed they wouldn't notice the small red blotches staining the royal blue shirt. I pulled my dreadlocks, hoping I hadn't accidentally cut them off.
June was my girlfriend. Yes! I was homosexual! Before the rebellion I was called horrible names for it, but once the war started nobody seemed to care about it anymore. We all had bigger things to worry about.
Like death. The tears started again, but I couldn't let June see me like this. I wiped away the water with my hand and finally reached our kitchen where June and my grandmother were calmly seated. Drinking the only water we had now. so to say, filthy water.
My narrow brown eyes seemed to widen in disgust, it was all the rebels fault we were in this mess. I hated them. But I tried to look happy for June. She deserved it. Her whole family had died in the war. We offered her to stay with us, but she refused. At least my grandmother lived.
Letting me move in with her. Ian, my eldest brother, would have lived in this house. He was grandmother's favorite, so she offered the house to him.
June face immediately lit up when her eyes landed on my face. Her features scrunched up in joy. She was beautiful. Her light brown hair complimented her freckles, which flew over her petite nose. her facial structure was perfect. Compared to mine... We were an odd couple, I was standing at 5''7, her at only 5''4. Our skin of opposite colours. Not to mention the fact we were both homosexuals, made everything worse. The names and insults ten times more heavy, and ten times more meaningful.
I hated when people judge me for my sexuality, skin or appearance. My face sunk to a dark level. My eyes took on a hideous look in them. June saw this too. her expression immediately dropped. "Diana?"
She gingerly played with one of my dreadlocks, her green eyes boring into mine. "Just thinking." My answer was muffled by her head. She gave me a quick peck on the lips before my grandmother coughed loudly. I wasn't sure if it was because she was old or felt uncomfortable. Probably both. June blushed and looked away and my face took on a smug smile.
She flattened out her shirt before muttering a quick apology to my grandmother, who simply laughed. June wasn't that comfortable with a lot of PDA, I wasn't either so it worked out. June then looked at me before changing the subject.
"How's your poetry going?" He face still slightly crimson from the kiss. My eyes looked at her lips for a second before reverting back to her face.
"Same as ever." I shrugged, but my eyes told a different story. I think she saw the excitement in them so she let the subject drop.
Poetry. I used it to express myself. It calmed me when I was angry or sad. Let me jot down ideas when I was happy or excited. I even had a few of about june, but the majority were of my now deceased family, and the war.
I gave her another little peck.
She smiled and I swore the room lit up a thousand brighter. Then I watched as her smile faded and her eyes turned stormy. "Why is there blood on your shirt?" I looked down.
I should have cleaned it better. June, without my consent, yanked my shirt sleeve up to reveal my many white scars. They were of all different shapes and sizes. The small straight newer ones and the jagged and long older ones. They looked like a pattern along my arm, a beautiful intricate designs of hopelessness."I told you to stop cutting! When you cut yourself part of me dies in the inside, part of you dies too. You know I hate it when you cut."
I looked down ashamed. June, like any good girlfriend, hated that I cut. She hated it because she cared. It was rebels, she knew it was the rebels that made me cut.
"I understand why you do it, but when you do I feel like bursting into to tears. I care about you, just remember that" When she went on about stuff like that it made me feel selfish for cutting. At this point I could probably kill and not feel any remorse in it.
My soul was already that damaged. I may hesitate for a second if it was a loyalist. But a rebel, I might even enjoy it.
I shivered at the thought. What was wrong with me. I looked at June and my grandmother, the only reasons I didn't just quit life now. That's when I remembered that June and I weren't alone.
My head slowly turned in my grandmother's direction. Her face was neutral, impossible to read. Was she dissapointed? Her face didn't tell me anything. I looked into her brown eyes, identical to mine. They showed me sadness. An emotion I understood. Possibly all too well.
"Diana." her hoarse voice startled me. For a moment I thought she was dying. My features widened when I thought I might have to perform CPR. "Do you know the real reason I called you down here? And June of course." My grandmother loved June, always included her in on everything.
June vigorously shook her head. She found my grandmother fascinating. Me on the other hand... she was like a nutty old bag of potatoes. "You understand how practically the whole District thinks I'm deaf don't you?" She gave us expecting looks, even though she was more focused on June her stare was icy cold.
This time we both nodded. In fact the whole District did think she was deaf, most people her age in the District were. It didn't help that most of her 'friends' were.
"well, when someones 'deaf' you don't bother shutting your mouth during important conversations. I overhear a lot of things." I started to wonder where she was going with this? I leaned in slightly I looked at June, whom seemed to be completely absorbed.
"Things like what?" June's curiosity was getting the better of her. I wasn't going to deny that I was also pretty curious. My head cocked to the side.
"Things like..."
She looked at me with a look that made me wish June had never asked. Grandmother's face didn't look human. The fear in her eyes were so prominent that it made me feel like my parents had died all over again.
"Things like the Hunger Games." I didn't know what that meant but I was scared already. My cuts seemed fresh as I slammed my fists against the wall in fear. I didn't know what they were, but Hunger was never good. Hunger had killed thousands.
So that was Diana Riverton. Thank you for her, I hoped I did OK? And for all those comments about the name calling, I just based that off my friend who's Bisexual. I definitely don't have anything against Homosexuals. I just hope you guys know that. So peace out or whatever...