District 1
-Diamante Sawyer, 17- Friend of Iridesce-
As soon as she burned I went to the Training Center.
I knew that Luscious wouldn't be any help right now. I know that nobody will be a help. How am I supposed to keep going!? How are we ever supposed to laugh and joke around again without Iridesce!? Things will never be the same again.
I have to win vengeance for her. My best friend, and she's been swept away by total and utter bullshit! How is anyone supposed to sit still?! She was the obvious choice for Victor, she was trained and strategic, and she stuck by her decisions no matter what.
I'm the only one that would think to come to the Training Center this late at night while the Games were going.
Well… Not the only one.
Gravity's here, too. I don't think I've ever been at the Center and not seen him there. I ignore him, though. I have my own mourning to do. This isn't fair! I strike a dummy with my sword as hard as I can, as if I might be able to bring her back if I fought hard enough.
I'll never be able to bring her back. No matter how fucking hard I try she's always going to be gone. She's never going to come back. District 1 will never be the same. I can't just sit still like Luscious can. I have to make something of myself. I have to fight for her. Who else is going to?
Her parents can't really do much. Her brother Alabaster is too dense to realize the magnitude of what just happened. Luscious has no initiative to do things. If nobody else is going to fight for Iridesce, I am. You can bet your ass on that.
I fight as hard as I can. I've been training as hard as I can, and I just haven't been able to measure up to the others. The hopes of volunteering get slimmer and slimmer every day. Without Iridesce to give me advice, I'm falling behind the others.
Doesn't mean I'll stop trying. Doesn't mean I'll "just stop" beating myself up about this. If I'm not good enough to avenge my best friend, what kind of friend does that make me!? A failure.
I was never really worthy of being friends with Iridesce Eurian. Now, in the moment she should be avenged I can't even get there.
I drop my sword and it clatters to the ground. Tears fill my eyes.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I'm sorry I can't win you justice." It was stupid to think I ever could. I run out of the Training Center and back home, where I know I can break down in peace and nobody will bother me.
.
-Amory, 16- Friend of Callum-
I had a bottle to my lips the second the cannon boomed.
Since then, I haven't stopped. Sure, drinking used to be fun, but it actually does get your mind off of whatever shit's being thrown your way.
I close my eyes and chug. The sooner I can be drunk off my ass, the better. The alcohol burns as it goes down my throat, but it doesn't even phase me anymore.
"Amory?" I hear an all-too-familiar voice. It's Niss. "Don't tell me-"
"Take one," I say, reaching for the six pack I carry around with me. "They're really good."
"You're already slurring," she says, "Come on, let's get you home."
"It'll help!" I try to tell her, but she must not understand what I'm saying. She grabs me by the shoulder and when she pulls me up, the world decides it would like to start spinning like crazy. I blink and try to regain my balance. Oh, the familiar feeling of being at ease. I'm determined to get Niss to let go. "C'mon Niss!"
"Let's go." She drags me along, and I feel quite dizzy as I'm not exactly sure where the floor is.
"You have to cut this out now," she says. "I know you're only doing it to forget Callum, but alcohol is dangerous!"
"It's fun!"
"It'll get you killed." She keeps dragging me along, and I can't stop her. In fact, I can't really do much of anything until she stops moving me and I can figure out which way is up again. She opens the door to her house and drags me in, and the lights make my head spin. She lets me go and I manage to make it to the couch.
"C'mon. Just one," I try, reaching for one to give her. "Don't you want to be happy again? Just for a little while?"
"Alcohol can't make you happy."
"Sure it can. I'm pretty happy, and I'm just a bit tipsy."
Suddenly, I hear a sniffle. Niss starts to cry.
"Aw, Niss, c'mon!"
"I'm losing you too," she sobs quietly.
"What?"
"I already had to sit and watch our best friend be betrayed by his own ally!" she sobs into her hands.
"One of these and you won't think about it," I try.
"No, Amory!" she sobs. "You're throwing yourself away too! I've lost you both!"
"Niss-"
She throws a blanket at me. "Go to sleep Amory."
She runs out of the room, sobbing, before I can stop her.
~.~.
District 2
-Hannah Alice Roth, 16- Girlfriend of Maggie-
I'm still not sure why she volunteered.
I can't believe that just like that, she's gone. It was so fast. It was chaotic. One bolt of lightning and that was it. She's dead.
I had spent so much time in denial. So much time telling myself she would get back. She was so close to the final 8. I was so optimistic; I was trying to decide what to wear for a final 8 interview. I never should've turned my back on that television. As if watching would have done anything to change what was happening.
One minute I was sure she'd be home soon, the next she was dead. Just like that.
These past few days, I've just felt plain old lost. I have no idea what I'm going to do without her. I don't know how I'm going to keep going. It feels like a piece of me has been ripped out and thrown into outer space. I'll never get it back.
I've spent the past days locked up in my room, crying. I should've stood in Maggie's way. I should've beat her to that stage. I should have known what she was going to do and tried to stop her. I should have tried harder.
We had always talked about running away together.
Sure, we were young, but we were both smart and resourceful and not afraid of a risk. And, even if we had died on our way out, at least we would have been together. Now, I'm left here without her. I loved her so much… I love her still today. I will never stop loving her. Even if I move on, there's nothing like a first love. She was torn away from me so suddenly… I wish I had told her how much I loved her more. I wish I had held her closer, for longer. There are so many things I wish I had done but didn't get to do. Now, they're nothing but empty regrets.
I haven't had the courage to go to Maggie's house yet. I can't face her little sister Sammie, the light still in her eyes, asking when Maggie will come home… I can't do it yet. I have to have some time to heal first. I have to build up the courage.
The service was short. Both caskets were closed. I don't think I could've stood for them to be open. Ashe was by herself, and didn't stop crying the entire time. It's not fair that this happened, but that's life. Things just… Poofed back to normal. My parents forced me back to training just in case I'd ever end up in the Games. Justus Fiore, who was supposed to volunteer for Vidarr, became a Head Trainer. He still has a bit of a limp. He's loud and bossy but effective.
I'm still healing. I don't know if I will ever been totally healed. I get better each day, but I still miss her all the time. There will never be a time I don't miss her and wish we would have run away together when we could.
But I know that I have to keep being strong and continue to live day-to-day.
And, for Maggie, that's something I can do.
.
-Pit Kensy, 38- Mentor of Vidarr-
I sit on the train, ready for another year of mentoring. Peregrine drew me another picture, and Damon gave me a baseball, just in case I have some time to play with one of the other Victors. He doesn't know how this works, but I don't ever want him to.
I knew from the very beginning that I wanted the male tribute this year. And, as I always have been, I'm ready to fight someone to make sure that's how it is.
The female tribute for the 100th Games walks off with her mentor, leaving me with Odin Yggdraval.
"So, ya made it to the Games." I take a pastry and sit across from him on the couch.
Odin gives a nod but doesn't say anything. I'm pretty sure he's trying to cover awkwardness with brute strength. At that, I laugh.
"What?" He shoots me a look.
"Nothing, nothing. I just… Not even five minutes and I already see your father in you." I laugh some more. It's all I can do to hide the guilt. If I had just been able to warn him, or do something for him, send him something, anything, maybe I could've gotten him out alive.
Dammit, he never even knew she was pregnant! I didn't even get the note down there in time. I had spent so much time alone, wondering how the hell I could let this happen.
"You couldn't have done anything," Nikko tried to console me, as always. "It was fate. It was the Gamemakers. It wasn't your fault." But if I had done something other than sit and scream at the screen in the mentor room just maybe… Maybe I could have done something. Ashe didn't want to talk to me. I don't blame her. I can't imagine what it would have been like to carry a baby without Nikko there to make things better. It must have been hell.
"My Dad?" he gives me a look.
"Mhm. You're not the first Yggdraval I mentored. Know how you can tell, Odin? 'Cause I pronounced your last name correctly on the first try."
"I only took it because I couldn't bear the name of a coward."
"Your mother wasn't a coward."
"She took her own life."
"Odin, please. You don't understand."
"Guess I don't. Not that he was much better." He looks at me expectantly, knowing I'm going to defend him.
"Your father was not a coward."
"What was he like then?"
His cold façade melts, ever so slightly. He… Actually wants to know.
I smile a little bit. "Where do I even start? Well, when I was mentoring him, I was also nine months pregnant. He was really quiet and awkward, like you. But very determined. He just wanted to make it back to Ashe, and you."
"How do you know he wouldn't have left my mother? Or forced her to kill me?" he asks coldly.
"Because, unlike you, I knew him."
He sinks, quiet again.
I swallow a lump in my throat as tears come to my eyes. "I wish you could've gotten to know him, Odin." All of the pain from before comes back. All of the guilt for something I couldn't control, all of the pain and misery I've been carrying. "I really do. He was… Worth knowing, even if it was for as little time as a week."
"You think he's in me?" he doesn't look like he believes me.
I take a tissue and dab at my eyes. I used to hate breaking down in front of other people, but now it's something I do all the damn time. "I know he's in you. Your mannerisms are so similar."
"Oh…"
"I want to get you home, Odin. I want to make you a Victor. If you let me, I want to succeed from where I failed last time. What do you say?"
There's a moment of silence between us before he takes a deep breath.
"Yeah. Sure. I want to win and get back to 2. Prove them wrong."
Just like Vidarr, this one's a fighter.
I'm going to bring him home.
~.~.
District 3
-Gregor Hensley, 15- Nephew of Cyra-
It's that time of year again.
Every year we learn about the Games, each of the Games, the tributes, the Arenas, the horrors. Stupid Capitol curricula that remind us how damn long this nightmare's been happening, unchallenged. And today is the day I dread. The 84th Games.
They start out simple when we're young. Just knowing the Victor and the Arena. Then they get into the nitty gritty. This year, we're watching it for the first time.
I've watched bits and pieces. Most of the pre-Games stuff. I wanted to know my Aunt. My parents talk about her all the time. I never got to know her, she died when I was just a little kid. My Mom sent me off to school with a kiss on the top of the head and a simple "be strong." I'm not ready to watch it.
My heart pounds as the teacher starts trying to get the TV to work. It doesn't take long at all. My heart pounds harder as the clock counts down.
I'm not ready. I'm not ready…
When the counter's on 10, I stand up quickly. Before anyone can ask, I grab my backpack and dash out of the room as fast as I can. Maybe it's stupid that I can't sit here and watch it. After 83 straight days of watching Games, I don't want to watch anymore. I don't care if I'm skipping my Dad can chew me out for it later. All I know is that I have to get out.
I stop to put my books in my locker and start out the door.
Right outside the door is another boy, lighting a cigarette. I stop in my tracks.
He looks up at me, and I notice his hands shaking.
"You know you're skipping, right?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Excuse me," I say, putting my hands on my hips, "So are you."
He hits a lighter off his leg, looking confused as he tries to make it work. He glances up at me and says, "You don't seem like the skipping type, though."
I swallow a lump in my throat and scowl. "I'm not skipping because I want to."
"If you don't want to skip, then just go back."
"It's not like that!" I say, angry tears forming in my eyes. I wish I could stop them, but I just can't. I just try to keep my voice steady. "I'm not going to sit in there and watch my aunt die!"
He stops what he was doing and gives me a glance. "Your… Aunt?"
"Yes, you heard me," I say, digging my knuckles into my eyes to stop the tears. "Now get out of my way." I stomp past him, ready to leave.
"My uncle died in the same Games."
I freeze in place. I don't turn to look at him, though. I have to make a decision.
"Bet Romilly. You are?" He approaches me.
I swivel on my foot, slowly. "Greg. Hensley."
"No kidding. She really was your aunt."
"What does it matter now anyways? They're both dead. Kendal Beck is the Victor." There's another pause.
"I don't have a single memory of him," he says quietly. "Only what my parents told me."
"It's miserable, isn't it?" I ask. "She's simultaneously a loved one and a total stranger."
"No kidding." His hands are still shaking as he tries to get the lighter to work.
"That's probably not a good idea."
"Th-They said it'd calm me down. I need some peace for once. The reapings are coming up too quickly."
"Bet. This isn't going to help."
"I have to at least try. Come on, haven't you ever been curious what it's like?"
"No, but…"
He gets a flame to appear and smiles in his victory.
"Plus, it looks cool too."
He puts the cigarette in his mouth and lights it as I watch. There's a second's delay before he starts coughing and spluttering, taking the death-stick out of his mouth to gag.
"So suave. Take me now, Hot Stuff," I say sarcastically.
His lips turn up in a grin. "Oh God I think I puked a little bit," he says, coughing and laughing at the same time.
"You seem so calm."
"So maybe this stuff isn't for anyone."
"Besides, you don't want to deal with the health risks."
"Maybe you're right. I spent good money on this stuff though."
"I'm sure someone else would want them."
"Guess so."
I glance back at the school, suddenly feeling guilty for skipping. I know my parents won't be happy if they knew I just walked out of class…
"I should get back in there…."
"What? Why?"
"I don't really have anywhere to go and-"
"Come home with me." He grabs my hand. "My Mom's expecting me to skip anyways. Let's go have lunch."
I glance back at the school over my shoulder. That death trap where I would only have to watch Aunt Cyra be burned alive and probably panic.
"Please, Greg."
I turn towards him, away from the school, and smile a bit. "Yeah, sure. Thanks for the offer."
He starts towards his house, not letting go of me, and I figure that if my parents knew why I was skipping, they wouldn't be too upset after all.
~.~.
District 4
-Vandala Lecter, 20- Sister of Serafina Anya-
I sit in my room and paint my sister.
Painting is very much a hobby, nothing more, but lately it's been the only way I've been able to cope.
"Watcha doin' Vandala?" I hear a voice come from the doorway. It's Ohen.
"Nothing much," I say, looking away from the painting. "You?"
He shrugs a little bit, and I know that he's missing her again.
"C'mere," I say, and the 14-year-old thankfully rushes into my arms.
"How's Evie?" I ask him, trying to distract him. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Today is one of those days that it doesn't.
"I miss her Vandala," he says quietly, and I know that it's going to be a teary kind of day. That's alright, though. This is hard to overcome. Healing is going to take a while. He's really been trying to hold it in. I wouldn't want him to hold it in, though. That's never a good thing.
He glances at the painting I was adding details to. Serafina Anya, when she looked her happiest: dancing. She had such a beautiful figure, and she moved so gracefully. She found true joy, passion, in the art of dancing. She never let anything stop her when she was moving music. She never let anything stop her in general, really.
"She looks so real," Ohen says, his glassy eyes looking at the painting. "Like she's really dancing. Like she'll wave to us and take a bow and get flowers from all her admirers."
"I miss her just as much as you do, O. You're not alone."
He sniffles and buries his face in my neck. "What if the Games take me, too?"
"They won't."
"What if?!"
"Four is becoming a powerful force. They're getting volunteers every year. As long as-"
"She didn't want to volunteer!" he sobs. "And she went in anyways!"
"Sh… Listen. They only forced her to because she was high up in training. If you just lay low you'll never step foot up on that stage, okay? You're okay. You're not going to go into the Games. I promise."
"You can't promise that!" he sobs some more.
"Sh…" I stroke his hair gently. "I know I can't. But I'll do everything I can to make sure you don't go into any Arena. Okay?"
He sniffles and cries quietly into my neck. "I want her back," he says quietly. "It's not fair that she's not here."
"I know, O. I know it's not fair. Fate isn't fair. We just have to keep finding a way to get by without her."
"Will it ever get better?"
"Of course it will. I'm not saying we'll never miss her. But I'm saying that we'll keep going. She'll be with us. Her joy will fill us. We'll be alright."
"Someday," he sniffles.
"Someday," I say, handing him a tissue. "C'mon, let's go see if we can help set the table for dinner."
"Okay." He blows his nose and wipes at his eyes.
Together, we walk down to help with the evening meal, and hold our loved ones close through this time of pain and sadness.
~.~.
-Joshua, 17- Friend of Collin-
I wake up with new scratches and groan. So maybe waking up in someone else's bed for the fifth day in a row isn't a good thing. That barely matters to me now. It's either spend the nights awake missing my best friend or stay awake with someone else, at least giving pleasure to someone else if I can't find any myself. I can have whichever girl I please in this whole District, why not give them all what they want?
She doesn't even stir as I get out of bed, wincing. I wash my face and sneak out of the room. I wish I could stay, but I have to get to work.
It's a stormy morning, but that doesn't mean work will slow or cease. I still have to get out there, I still have to try and catch fish, just like any other day. It isn't any different than those days when Collin was still around. I still get on the boat and see Phillip. He still gives me a smile and a "Good morning!" He still tries to talk my ear off. He hasn't changed like I have.
When we were younger and Collin lost his father, he changed. Suddenly he was stoic and cold, and especially quiet. You probably won't believe me when I say this, but as a kid, Collin never shut up. After he lost his father it became so hard to make him smile. I never understood. Why didn't he just let go? Why didn't he just smile and laugh? Why didn't he just let go of his father, let go, and go back to having fun?
Now, all these years later, I understand.
It's not that easy.
I objectify myself, have been ever since he died. I could stop. But then I would have to face the hole in my life that he left when he died. I'm a coward, I'm not ready to do that yet. Phillip still doesn't get it: he was sad for a week and somehow he was just able to let it go. He says it's because that's what Collin would've wanted for him to do, but I have trouble believing that. I miss him so much, how am I just supposed to… not miss him anymore? It's easier said than done.
Every day is harder and harder without him. I have to keep going through the motions, but it's hard. His little brother Tryin still says hi to me on the street. The little guy's much quieter and more detached, just like his brother. Amazing how one event can impact so many lives and change people so much.
I know that we have to keep going, but it's not easy.
I face every day without him, but I know that he wouldn't want me to give up. I still have to watch over Tryin and the others and make sure that nobody else gets into trouble.
As hard as it is, I'll just have to hold on. Things will get better someday.
I dab at some of the scratches that are still bleeding.
Sooner is better than later.
~.~.
District 5
-Victor Mackall, 19- Friend of Cory-
I still take care of the damn bird.
Mr. Smith and Mr. Baker still allow me over to see it.
I don't know why I still see that stupid raven. It doesn't even like me. It liked Cory, and that was all. It's been weeks since she's gone, and she hasn't come back. Sam, as she called it, is smart enough to know she's not coming back and he's going to have to deal with the Mr. Baker, Mr. Smith, and myself taking care of it.
I'm thankful that they've taken me in with them. My parents have been trying to shove me out since I turned 18, said that it'd be good for me, that I need to know independence, I can't live with them forever. I can't believe my own two parents would do that to me during my time of greatest need. How am I supposed to get on without Cory? More importantly, how am I supposed to go on without Cory alone? I need support, and Cory's uncles have been so kind as to help me along the way. I can never repay them for that.
They took it harder than me. Especially poor Mr. Baker. After Cory lost her parents, and now he lost her too… Of all of us, he misses her the most, that's just a fact. But, he's also the most uplifting out of all of it. I tend to draw back when faced with the grief. I don't want anyone else to know how I'm feeling. I don't want them to know that I'm vulnerable. That's the kind of house I grew up in. Mr. Baker wears it all on his sleeve. He always tears up, but he's still smiling. He says that Cory and her parents are together, and they're happy. They don't want us to see them too early, but they'll be waiting for us to reach them.
Cory's uncles always let me drink some tea when I come over. They've kind of adopted me, in a way. They're trying to help me find a place, and helping me grow and move on from this horrible situation. They're really trying to make the best of it, and help me to make the best of it.
It hurts. Being without her hurts. I said I'd be lost without her and I meant it. I don't know where to go from here. Looking for places is stressful, and brings about the possibility of me moving far away from home. Half of me jumps at the opportunity. I would love to get rid of the memories with a ghost in them. The other part knows that it won't fix anything. I can't just stop missing her. I can't just stop feeling like this.
All I know is that this is a day-by-day process. I won't just be able to forget about her.
I'm trying to find a bright side, but I can't.
A ray of light was taken from this world far too early.
I will never be the same person again.
And I'm going to have to get used to who I am now before I can start healing again.
.
-Millie Dalton, 16- Friend of Hamilton-
His parents don't know what they did to him.
They constantly broke him down and they didn't have a clue. Now, he's dead and they still don't know. They don't miss him.
Albert served as a crying shoulder during the service. It was sad and pitiful. Hamilton's casket was open, Cory's was closed. He's pale, and doesn't look like the Hamilton I had spent so much time working next to in the factories. He's so lifeless. It's such an unnatural sight that I rip my eyes away and bury my face in Albert's shoulder. Albert and I were never really that close, Hamilton kind of brought us together, but right now I need some kind of support, and Al's the only one left that can provide that for me.
This is every ounce as hard as I thought it would be. I've been dreading this day ever since that girl from 11 killed him. I've been in desperate pain for my friend to be back by my side for weeks. I dread the day that the Victor of his Games comes and tells us that we should be okay.
During the service, his parents whisper back and forth. His older brother keeps nodding off and waking up again.
I approach them as soon as the service is over.
"Mr. and Mrs. Rayce?"
They turn around and give a glance down at me.
"Yes. It's Millie. Hamilton's friend from work." I clear my throat. "And… Well…" I try not to cry, but a sob comes out before I can stop it. "How can you be so composed at the funeral of your youngest child!?" I had heard of favoritism, but this is just ridiculous.
"I can't say I miss him horribly," Jackson shrugs, giving me a glance downward. "I'm not gonna rip myself up about it."
"He was fifteen!" I can't hold back any longer. I yell. I scream at him. I can't control it anymore. "He was your youngest son, your youngest brother, and he's dead now and you guys don't even care!"
"Take a deep breath. Millie, was it? It's going to be okay." Mrs. Rayce pats my shoulder.
"Don't touch me!" I shout. "He's dead and gone and it's not fair!"
"He didn't stand a chance," Mr. Rayce says.
"Excuse me?" I look up at him, shaking with rage as more tears come to my eyes.
"You didn't know the pathetic side of Hamilton, Sweetheart," Jackson says. "He couldn't even watch the Games on TV. As soon as he was reaped we knew he was dead meat. We were prepared." Mrs. Rayce starts to tear up and buries her face in her hands.
"How dare you say that! How dare you let them talk about him that way! How dare you!"
Albert comes over just then and takes me by the shoulders. "Let's just go, Millie."
"No!" I shout desperately, as he pulls me away in the other direction. "I'm not done with them! They don't understand what they did! They don't understand!" I keep yelling and sobbing, and Albert finally lets me go once we've reached my neighborhood and I finally surrender.
"How do they not understand?" I ask, hiccupping and wiping at my eyes.
Albert hugs me, and I hug back thankfully.
"They're not going to understand until they wake up one morning and realize how much they miss him. You can't make them see, Millie."
"It's not fair!" I sob.
"I know it's not fair. None of this is fair."
Hamilton should still be alive. The Games should have been over years ago.
Our best friend is gone. He's never coming back.
And his family doesn't even notice that he's not there.
~.~.
District 6
-Mirabel West, 18- Billie's sister-
I never gave up on her.
Even when everyone else did, I didn't. I refused to give up on my sister. She had a chance and never gave up. Not my Billie. She was just a bit too ambitious. That's all.
Mom and Dad haven't been home any more often. It seems they always have to be busy and out of the house. Dad only took one day off of work after Billie had died. Mom took two. Then they were right back at it.
I hate this ghost house.
Everywhere I go I see her. I haven't even come within ten feet of her bedroom since she left for the Capitol. I haven't had the courage to. I know that I'm the one that's going to have to do it, though. Mom and Dad will busy themselves until they don't have to think about it anymore. They won't touch it and it'll just become a pile of artifacts and dust.
The day after the funeral, I decide to brave it and enter.
The action itself wasn't as hard as I thought. It was as simple as a step forward. It was only when I looked around that the memories began to hurt. That crack in the ceiling, that we always joked would someday grow and destroy the whole junkheap we call home. The floorboard that creaked every time you stepped on it. Billie said she could feel it, it was so bad. The dresser drawers that always got stuck and caused a lot of frustration and swearing. The little details make it so hard.
I step in the room, not even sure where to start. How do you clean out a dead person's things? I suppose I could sell her clothes, or offer them to some of the street dwellers. I start making piles, things that can be given away and things that might as well be thrown away they were so old. Billie wasn't exactly great at cleaning out her things. To get her to do anything, she had to want to do it. She did what she wanted to damn well, but didn't like taking orders. I remember when she was just a kid and always blamed her lack of chores on an imaginary friend named Mrs. Tillymilly. After I told her my panther mutt ate Mrs. Tillymilly she cried for at least a week. Things like those, silly little things that we laughed about later, are the hardest.
Soon, I find that I just can't do this anymore. I get up and leave the room, tears pouring out of my eyes.
I'll find a way to get through the rest of her things, just… Not now. The wound is too fresh still.
Healing is a process that takes time, and I have to let it run its course.
.
-Kyle Norwood, 15- Friend of Amari-
Lydia hasn't stopped crying since he died.
It's been at least 24 hours and she's barely moved. I offered to call her boyfriend but she doesn't want to see him right now. I have no idea what she wants. What am I going to do for her? The only times she's gotten up all day were to piss and try to dry her tears. She'd just come back out and start crying again. My shirt is soaked. I just sit and listen, though a snarky comment comes out every once in a while that makes her cry harder, hit me, or both. So, I offer to go get her boyfriend, he knows how to deal with her. To which she tells me she doesn't want to see him. And the cycle continues.
It's exhausting. Finally, the girl curls up into a tiny ball of Lydia and dozes off. I take that second to breathe a sigh of relief. She needs the rest, and I need to eat something or else I'm going to start chewing my fingers off. I go to the kitchen, leaving her on the couch, and make lunch.
I pour two glasses of water, one for me and one for her when she wakes up. I figure I should go try to get her makeup stains off of my shirt. If there was any chance of bawling her eyes out on my favorite white T, you'd think she'd have the common decency to not do dark raccoon makeup around the eyes. I don't know a thing about washing clothes, that's a mother's job, but let it sit in the water as I change into a black T-shirt and finish off my sandwich.
I walk back up to the living room and take a seat again. Lydia's still sleeping soundly. I bet she's going to be out for a while, she really worked herself up about it. I drop a blanket over her and let her be.
Amari's dead. Time's still ticking. The Games are still going. Nothing's set on fire. Our hearts are still beating.
It's not like I'm not going to miss him. After all, if he were here he'd probably agree that Lydia's blowing this crazily out of proportion. Twenty-four straight hours of tears is enough for a lifetime. Amari would just want us to keep smiling and keep going. He wouldn't want Lydia to ruin my favorite shirt with twenty-four straight hours of tears.
I watch the TV, in silence. The realization that he's really gone is taking some time to sink in. I'll have to find someone else to talk to about all the people we've seen in school. I could easily get that kid that was crazy about Amari to be my new friend, but nobody could be like Amari.
Lydia's not the one that still remembers what he tasted like.
I try to shake out the negativity. It's ridiculous.
I know I'll survive without Amari here. It's what he'd want me to do. Not sob like a fucking baby.
So, I'll move on. I'll keep living.
I don't really have another choice.
~.~.
A/N: It's 5:56 and I honestly don't know if I have 6 districts left in me. I'm going to try my best though. But, I'm splitting the District epilogues into two parts. Either way, I'm going to finish this story by tomorrow. I'm just making sure that I don't surrender quality in favor of speed.
Also, I said "400 word epilogues, that's it" and that didn't work out so well. Whoops. That's okay though. So, two more chapters left of this. I'll try to get another one out but we'll see.
Stream tonight! I'll probably take a break for an hour from 7- 8 ish to do some drawing and then starting at 9 ish maybe I'll stream some epilogue-writing or draw some more. Not quite sure. Either way I'd love to see you there!
Alright, I'm gonna stop talking now so I can try and get the rest of the epilogues done today.
Chapter Question: For those that had a tribute with an epilogue in this chapter: Did you like it? Why or why not? For those that didn't have a tribute with an epilogue this chapter: Whose stood out the most and why?
