Reapings: Suffocate

District Five:

Aster Merrin's POV:

"Could you hand me Mrs. Holland's file, please?" I heard my mother ask as her manicured hand invaded my peripheral vision.

I swiftly sorted through the organized stack that we kept for our frequent visitors. I found my mother's immaculate and bold print and passed it to her. I glanced up and saw her broad smile as she motioned for the teary woman to follow.

The week leading up to the Reaping and the day itself was one of the busiest times of the year for my family's business. I looked around the small office that I one day hoped to inherit. To my right were three heavy, metal doors. One closed silently as my mother and Mrs. Holland entered the small room. My father was in the one closet to me with a patient I knew all too well.

My family ran a certified psychiatric clinic. District Five was a tightly packed place filled with a handful of the smartest citizens in Panem. Science was our trade and the most brilliant thrived. However, with academic competition often came loneliness… and apparently an array of mental problems. That's what my family was here for. Whether you needed medication to fix a chemical imbalance in your brain or just someone to talk to, we were here for you. Whatever problems you were having, we would try our best to solve them and it felt like we always did.

The clock ticked loudly as I waited at the desk. There wasn't anything left for me to do. I had been ready for the Reaping before the sun even rose. We came in extra early for some last minute emergency appointments that were requested by those panicking about the day's event. One was a mother who lost her child several years ago and was worried about her eldest son. Another was a kid who had stopped taking his medication due to the Reaping giving him an 'unbearable amount of stress' (his words, not mine).

Sadly, none were patients I was allowed to help with. My father was the only certified psychiatrist in our family, but my mother and I still worked with patients. Before I was born, my father met my mother and loved her enthusiasm and helpful spirit. Over the years, he taught her everything he knew and she was just as knowledgeable in this field as he was. The only true reason she wasn't certified as well was because of her background. She didn't have the required education to take the exams and going back and completing them at this point would be pointless. We only needed one person to prescribe the medication anyways.

Was it legal? No. Did a single patient complain or send the Peacekeepers our way? Nope. We were the only successful, clean psychiatric clinics in District Five that I knew of. If we were shut down, these people would have to pay even more out of their pockets to visit private psychiatrists… Ones who only pumped you full of pills until you couldn't even function properly.

No one had it out for us because my parents only wanted to help people… Something I had inherited from both of them. As a child, I watched people enter this building broken. They were foul, desperate, and shattered. Over time, broken parts were tossed out and new pieces were melded in. Eventually, a whole and happy person left completely shiny and functional. I thought it was as close as humanely possible we could come to magic. Now, older, I realized it's a science just like everything else in this district. A science I had spent days pouring over and learning so that I could help others just like my family.

My father treated the mentally ill and most unstable patients. My mother handled those that were grieving and needed a guide through the dark times they were facing. Then there was me. I was left with the simple, straightforward cases. Usually it involved identifying what problem they had so that I could send them to the correct parent, but sometimes I got lucky. There were rich families that occasionally brought in their wild children. They were beside themselves that they didn't need corrective discipline, but that they had some sort of mental issues. Sometimes they were right, but usually their child just had either a sour attitude or was just going through a phase. My parent's left these cases to me, and I couldn't help but treasure them. Creating bridges of communication between these kids and the rest of their families filled me with such a warm feeling. Nothing was better than watching them leave, knowing they were never coming back. It meant I was doing something right…

I heard the door open and my ears perked. My father strolled out with his patient who gave me a toothy grin.

"Hey man," Baxter smirked as he gracefully vaulted over the desk.

"What have I said about being behind the reception counter?" my father sighed as he grabbed a pen from a canister.

"That it's totally chill."

"No. We've said its illegal being behind here in close proximity of other patient's files," I scolded as I sorted Baxter's folder into a nearby stack.

"Then maybe you should lock them up so I can sit back here with my best bud," he suggested as he slapped my shoulder.

"Just get out from behind the counter," Father groaned as he finished his signature and handed Baxter the prescription sheet.

"Whatever, Mr. M."

He placed his hand on the desk and my father and I simultaneously hissed, "Walk ."

Baxter sighed overdramatically as he slumped his shoulders and scooted around the desk. I refrained from smiling as his expression screamed that he thought we were both too uptight and boring.

For years now Baxter had made it his mission to bring out a different side of me around my family. As much as I loved my family, I acted far differently around them then I did around Baxter. I wasn't trying to hide who I was near them, it just happened naturally. Around them, I acted professionally and was always serious. In fact, I was almost a carbon copy of my father who was very hardworking and meticulous. Even though at home both of my parents were jovial and enthusiastic, I couldn't seem to shake this mentality. I wanted them to see me as an equal… Or at least as much as an equal I could be before I finished my education.

On the other hand, around Baxter I acted like an almost completely different person. I joked around constantly, playfully bantered, and was far more easygoing. Maybe he just brought out the inner teenager in me that I was 'suppressing'. Perhaps I just changed how I acted based on who I was around. It was fairly hard to test that last theory because I didn't really have any other friends besides Baxter. It wasn't that I didn't like other people. I just struggled to find a reason to talk to others when they weren't coming to me for help. It felt like there was no purpose to the conversation. It was usually trivial and left me feeling awkward and out of place. When there was no goal, it left me tongue-tied and not sure where to go unless they took control of the conversation.

Something Baxter was very good at.

"Want to come with me to cash in this prescription and get my hands on some pills?"

I looked to my father, wincing slightly at how Baxter made it sound more like a drug deal than getting medication that kept him stable.

"We can handle everything else before the Reaping," my father approved as he went over his next patient's file, "Make sure you come right back as soon as it's over. We're going to be packed."

I nodded as I stood up and pushed in my chair. We always left an allotted amount of time right after the Reaping for the families of the reaped tributes to come in. Usually members from one, if not both, wandered in and required much more time than a single hour. This meant they needed all hands on deck to either take care of extra patients or help with massive amounts of rescheduling.

"See you in a bit," I smiled as I slipped on a jacket.

"Of course. Love you, son," he chimed as he invited his next patient in.

"Love you too," I mumbled as Baxter rushed me out the door into the cold, unforgiving air of District Five.

"Can I just say these pills do wonders for my libido?"

Leave it to Baxter to flirt with the pharmacist who was at least a decade older than us. She giggled girlishly while she twirled her brown hair around one finger. For someone who should have had at least a mediocre amount of intelligence to be allowed to distribute medicine, she sure didn't seem perturbed about potentially bedding a boy she was selling antipsychotics to.

I remembered when Baxter first came to the clinic. He was eerily quiet. He showed little emotion and lacked motivation to do anything. His family brought him in after Baxter once complained about the 'voices in his head'. According to my father, he was a classic case of schizophrenia. My father immediately took him under his wing and worked with him often. Slowly, he changed from a reserved kid into an energetic troublemaker. Over the years, his visits had decreased, but they still tended to fluctuate. Baxter once told me that there were times his head was an empty void, and others where it started to act up again. However, he stopped showing signs of any negative symptoms, which was a good step.

I was secretly glad he had schizophrenia. Otherwise, I doubted we would have ever met… And even though he bred trouble wherever he went, I wouldn't give up my friendship with him for the entire world.

I turned my attention away from their ridiculous flirting and gazed out the window of the pharmacy. I observed the people scurrying through the streets. We were packed so tightly together that the roads were never empty. Someone was always headed from work to home or vice versa. The streets were constantly congested with people as they attempted to conform to their schedules.

I enjoyed people watching. At a glance, every single person in the streets blended together. Their colorless clothes created a wall of anonymity as each individual appeared identical to the next. However, if you looked closer you would catch small details. A woman clutching her heart with her back bent slightly… A man with his hands balled up in fists… A child weaving through the crowds as they chased after something. If you looked closely, you could always spot something of intrigue.

"Ready to go?"

Baxter snapped me out of my head as I turned towards him.

"Are you?" I asked as I raised my eyebrow and motioned to the pharmacist with my eyes.

Baxter rolled his eyes and whispered, "I'm getting that premier discount! Do you really think I'd go for her?"

"I'm not going to pretend to know your sex life," I shrugged as he guffawed. I glanced at his medication and frowned.

"Why did my father up your dosage?"

Baxter looked down at the capsules and shoved them into his bag, "I'm having a rough week, that's all."

The way he brushed off the question caught me off guard and I asked, "Is everything ok?"

We made eye contact and his expression softened at my concern, "Just got some chatterboxes who won't shut their mouths."

He pointed to his skull and laughed as he walked towards the exit.

"Are they saying anything overly disturbing?"

I was perplexed. Whenever any of his negative symptoms acted up, he talked it out with my father. I couldn't remember the last time his dosage had been raised.

"Nah man," he laughed as he glanced away and shuffled his feet.

"You're lying," I stated as I folded my arms.

One thing I had learned from hours of studying was how to spot a lie a mile away.

Baxter sighed, "It's just involving the Reaping. Can we drop it, ok?"

"What?" I pried as we opened the shop door, "Are they telling you that you're going to get reaped again? It's not going to happen, regardless of what they say."

He stopped and bit his lip. I could tell he was thinking about lying again, but sighed deeply.

"They're not telling I'm going to be reaped. They're saying you are."

I jumped from foot to foot while I stood in the seventeen year old section. Baxter was technically a year younger, but for the first time I was glad we weren't classified as the same age when the Reaping came around. His presence would only worsen my nerves. I knew it wasn't his fault. In fact, it was mine for prying. He obviously didn't want to talk about it, and now I knew why.

Still, it was just the delusions in someone else's mind. It didn't affect the odds of me actually being reaped… Logically, I knew better, but it put me on edge. I couldn't think past the Reaping and what I would be doing afterwards. My mind was solely focused on the glass bowl that glimmered under the sunlight and the amount of times my name was written on a small piece of parchment.

Distractions. I needed distractions.

I forced myself to look away from the stage. The buildings around the square loomed over us. From where I was standing, they almost appeared to be bending downward. It felt like they could come crashing down at any second. For the first time ever, I was suffocating. No matter where I looked my eyes were always drawn back to the stage. Peering at the cloudy sky, grey buildings, or the people that surrounded me only made me feel more powerless. It didn't matter who I helped if I couldn't help myself.

Suddenly, the best distraction of all flounced onto the stage. Our escort, Julius, strutted to the very edge and posed. His purple hair flowed to his waist and chunks of it were separated into different braids. His outfit was a deep blue, but had gold interwoven into the inlay. His voice was like a bell as he sang, "Time to pick a precious gem from this lovely district!"

His hand sank into the girl's bowl before he grabbed one. He pulled it out with an extravagant flair as he chimed, "Maddison Walker!"

For several seconds, silence was his response. There wasn't even the slightest shuffle as his eyes scanned the audience. He opened his mouth to call out her name again, but was cut off by a tiny tinkle of laughter. The small, quiet laugh bounced off every surface of the district as someone began to move through the crowd. I glanced behind me to see the top of someone's head bobbing through the crowd. It was like a tiny flame struggling to float through a sea of darkness. As she bounced up the stage, I immediately recognized her. In fact, she was hard to miss. She was a street performer, more specifically a magician of sorts. I had seen her frequently in the square whenever I was sent on errands. She usually had a small group of people watching her perform some trick while a huge smile was plastered on her face. Surprisingly, that same grin was painted whimsically as she stared into the audience.

Another thing that made her stand out so vividly in my mind was her hair. Not many people in District Five had that bright, eye catching color of red. Most people either had light blonde or brown. One of the only other people that I remembered sharing that color was on stage with her.

Memory Summit, victor of the 222nd Hunger Games, sat lifelessly next to our other victor. Her skin was paler than I remembered and her hair had grown out a considerable amount. It looked unkempt, much like the rest of her. She was nothing but skin and bones. My brow furrowed, remembering that she was taken to some sort of mental health clinic in the Capitol. She didn't look better. She never even appeared sick to begin with… And now she seemed disheveled and broken… Something wasn't right about that.

I had only met Memory once. It was right after her Victory Tour. I was only twelve, although I must have looked much younger. I had always been a scrawny, tiny thing until the last couple of years. I was reading a book outside my parent's business as I waited for them to finish going through several old files. I remembered looking up and seeing her smiling at me. I gasped, surprised that the Victor was right in front of me, but saw how sad she looked. I didn't know why, and I obviously didn't think of what I did next; but I stood up and hugged her. After a reasonable amount of time, I let go and ran away out of embarrassment. The memory still stood out in my mind.

Suddenly, I was aware of Julius' hand in the boys' bowl. My mind was sharp as he drew a slip and called out, "Aster Merrin!"

At first, I thought it was my mind playing a trick on me. For a split second, I thought I heard it only because I had been thinking about it so hard. When no one else moved, I knew it wasn't my mind fooling me.

I had just been reaped for the Hunger Games.

It happened like a switch. All my previous thoughts and concerns no longer mattered. Nothing had a hold on me except the fact that as soon as I started to move every camera in the square would be on me. I set my mouth in a straight line and kept my eyes focused on the stage. Soon, I was marching through the audience and towards my destination. I knew fidgeting, eye movement, and how my mouth was positioned were tell-tale signs of what I was feeling. No one deserved the luxury of that knowledge except for me… And even I didn't know at this point.

When I stopped moving, I knew the escort had asked me a question, but my ears didn't decipher the words. I couldn't move my mouth, and I realized I had simply not responded to whatever he asked. Within seconds, my arm was tugged in the air and I was turned around. I felt a softer hand in mine and I looked up slightly. I was staring at the girl's face. Unlike me, she was all smiles and charisma. However, her eyes screamed complete and utter fear making me realize that's the same and only emotion coursing through my veins.

Fear of what was going to happen next.

Maddison Walker's POV:

"Are you ready?" I asked as the child in front of me nodded.

With a simple flick of the wrist, I drew the kid's attention away and slipped a peppermint candy out of my sleeve. I effortlessly 'pulled it out' of the child's ear. His eyes widened, and I couldn't help but giggle. Children were my favorite. They were so easy to impress. They didn't question the most obvious and old tricks. They assumed you were a magical being that could bend reality.

And who didn't desire that kind of adoration?

"Now go home and tell your mom you love her, squirt," I ordered as I lightheartedly smacked the back of his head. He nodded vigorously and trotted away, slipping into the crowd. I quickly realized that might be considered insensitive since I knew nothing about him. Maybe he didn't have a mom, or maybe his mom was a rude bitch.

Whatever, the damage was done.

I inwardly sighed as I gazed at all the people passing by. They all seemed so comatose and dull. Sometimes I felt like I was the only splash of color in this black and white district. I glanced down at my sparkling, over-the-top outfit that stuck out like a shining beacon on a dark night. The sleeves flowed past my hands, concealing the different tricks I had hidden in them. Tricks I liked to use to spice up my bland surroundings.

I sensed the wandering eyes of people as they passed. There were times I could draw quite the crowd, but today was not one of those days. No one had time for a little cheer or distraction. They had things to prepare for. Whether it be their children, their job, or the approaching Capitolites; they had a deadline to meet. However, that's what made today the most important day. Sometimes you had to force a little magic in someone's life.

I picked out different faces in the passing crowds as I stood on my prop case. A woman with a scrunched up face like a rabid canine stormed by. I couldn't cheer her up even if I threw gold at her. My eyes singled out a scrawny teen as he shifted through the crowd. He kept his eyes low and his arms were slightly jutted out. The way he darted about and casually brushed up against others immediately told me he was a thief. I sighed again, saddened that people had to stoop so low. By the time I thought about warning others, he was gone; but I knew it was pointless. Another would come to take his place soon.

District Five was a functional society. If you were smart enough, you got by just fine. In fact, the higher you scored the better off you were because it determined what kind of career you could pursue. However, there were only so many of high paying jobs available, even if there were many intelligent enough to complete them. This left those that didn't or couldn't compete academically with no other option but to steal from those that beat them out. Theft was a common crime. Even though our Peacekeepers were harsh, most people weren't dumb enough to get caught. And as for those that were robbed?

They either took the moral high ground or stole something of equal value.

It was an endless cycle that most knew about. Only the privileged didn't seem grasp it… People like my family and friends. They spent so much time in their offices, at their computers, or in their books that they were blind to the people they lived with. God, I suddenly realized people really needed to get out more.

My eyes spotted a man walking by. His brow was furrowed, but not in a furious way. He seemed more contemplative and worried. My gut told me he was surrounded by stress in his life currently. He hustled past me as he blew smoke out into the air. I swiftly licked the back of my thumb and snatched the cigarette from his hand.

"What the hell!" he exclaimed as he reared back in surprise.

"Ready?" I asked as I lightly pushed the bud against the wet nail. Before he could respond, I waved my other hand around and recited a magic phrase my grandfather had taught me, "Sim Sala Bim!"

I fluttered my free hand past the cigarette. Now with the cigarette slightly stuck to my thumb, I bent my thumb backwards. I held both hands up with my palm facing him. I made a shocked face as I flicked my thumb and watched the cigarette fall into my sleeve. I showed him both sides of my hands and he looked somewhat confused.

"My… cigarette…" he mumbled as the frustration left his voice and he peered around me.

"Who needs that ratty one when you can start with a clean slate?" I asked as I stepped down and flicked an unused one out of thin air.

He looked shocked at this point as I placed it between his lips and pulled a matchbox from one of my pockets. I skillfully pulled out a match with one hand and speedily lit it. I pressed it against the end of his cigarette as I slipped several peppermint candies into the palm of his hand.

"Try smiling a little more often. You'll get lines," I grinned as I smoothed out the wrinkle in between his brows.

"Ok… Thanks, kid." He muttered as he shook his head. As he turned away, I caught the slightest of smirks. I beamed, happy to improve another person's day, even if it was only in a minuscule way.

"Hopefully he doesn't notice I took that new cigarette from his pack," I muttered as I lit the first one I had grabbed from him. I threw off my top hat and pulled my red hair out from its pigtails.

What can I say? Just because I'm brightening up someone else's day doesn't mean I can't do something to boost my own.

I breathed out a puff of smoke as I sat down and crossed my legs. Sleight of hand had always been my gimmick. My grandfather was a magician by hobby, and he tried to teach me everything he knew. The big acts of magic hadn't stuck yet. I didn't have natural finesse for sawing someone in half or creating a large production. I hoped to be able to master it someday and become an actual magician. I knew it was a far-fetched dream, but I longed to perform and be paid in more than smiles and tips. I knew the pay would be dismal, but what else did you expect if you tried to follow your dreams in Panem? Sadly, over the years I had only been able to handle the small acts. I almost preferred it since you got to interact with people one-on-one. It made you more aware of the different kind of people out in the world, and you started to pick up on small details. In those seconds, you established some sort of connection. Just like when I was a little girl with Grandpop, that one person was left more stunned and dazzled than the rest of the audience. They got to experience that intimate moment with you while everyone else stood by and watched.

Grandpop always said I had a knack for people. Mix that with some shifty handwork and there was no one that I couldn't stump. Although, a part of me was searching for that individual who could see right through the glamour and mystery. I told myself it was because I wanted the challenge. If they figured me out, I would have to work harder to puzzle them. Deep down, I knew the truth.

I wanted to find them so I could ask them what they saw… Because I certainly couldn't seem to see past the smoke and mirrors.

I strolled into our apartment and placed my hat on the nearest open hook. Before I could even take my jacket off, my mom yelled, "Maddison Ellen Walker! Where have you been?"

"Out gallivanting through the sheets dressed in nothing but a sheet of tin foil," I responded as I swept into the kitchen. Grandpop chuckled, and I could only imagine the grimace Grandma had involuntarily made.

"Can I get a real answer, please?" she barked as she roughly cracked several eggs.

"Where do you think I was, Mom?" I asked as I did a little twirl.

She glanced back and rolled her eyes as she exclaimed, "On Reaping day? Of all the days you could have picked to do your little tricks, you picked this one?"

"Today is the day people need a little magic in their life the most!" I argued.

This was a frequent event in this household. My mom, a physicist, was serious and strict by nature. She didn't appreciate or approve of what I did. In fact, she practically refused to acknowledge my intent on turning this into a career of some kind. She deemed it as childish and impossible. However, what she did choose to acknowledge was when I went out and didn't give her the exact details of my location and what I was doing hours in advance. We already played that game once before. She would just tell me not to and to go do something productive. Then I would go do it anyways and would get in massive amounts of trouble for disobeying her. It was easier this way, I promise.

"Yes, real magic. Not a card trick or a bent spoon."

"It's real if they can't figure it out," Grandpop piped in as he sipped his coffee.

I flashed him a smile. Grandpop was always in my back pocket cheering me on.

"Don't encourage this argument, dear" Grandma sighed as she read through some notes. Although she agreed with my mom when it came to my 'antics', she had given up on changing my mind long ago. She was hoping 'harsh reality' would do me some good.

"Just sit down and eat some breakfast," Mom sighed heavily as she placed some eggs onto a plate.

I smiled, knowing the argument was going to be saved for another day (per usual).

"Thanks!" I responded as I began to dig into the food.

"You're welcome." She replied as she smiled through her frustration.

I knew these arguments weren't just because they were trying to control me. Underneath our squabbles and backtalk, our little family unit loved each other. My mom and grandma wanted what was best for me. To them, that meant getting the best education I could receive and securing a top-grade job. We all knew I could do it too.

As much as I played it down at times, I was pretty intelligent. In District Five, your grades determined the type and amount of education you received. Every single point and percent mattered because it changed your entire future. I had always possessed a good memory and liked to discover how things worked. One of my favorite parts about magic was figuring out all of the tricks. Learning was something I did in my everyday life. Whether that meant from textbooks or people, it didn't matter. I constantly craved new information. If I didn't, how else would I grow?

"Go change, unless you planned on looking like poorly imitated Capitolite." Mom ordered as soon as I ate my last bite of eggs.

"Did I forget to tell you? I'm running away to the land of the free and joining the circus," I joked

"I think I misheard you. You are referring to the land of the stupid and selfish, yes?"

I guffawed as I strolled into my bedroom and began to strip. The one thing I adored about my mom was that she had no problem telling everyone she was the most intelligent person in the room. I had seen countless encounters where she left her colleagues looking like nothing more than a bunch of baboons. As much as she refused to believe it, she had a talent for understanding people too. She used it to point out their flaws in hopes of improving them. I just wanted to skip the flaws part and make them feel better.

"Where did all the candies go?" Grandma complained.

"Maddison! Did you take them again?"

"Nope," I called out, unable to hide the mischievous grin that splayed itself across my face.

"He's just so sparkly," River giggled as Julius stood in the shadows of the stage, far from the eyes of many.

"If we strung him up from these streamers he could light up a quarter of the district," I mumbled as we both giggled at the thought, "He would either flail about like a dying rat or swing dramatically as he soared about like a hero from a tragic play."

"Give him a bow and he could be a cupid." She agreed.

"Give him a boy and he wouldn't need one."

Several girls glared daggers at us, but we just continued to giggle. These drab chicks needed to lighten up. It was our last Reaping!

"Live a little and let your hair down… Like Julius!" I told one of them, which sent River and I into even more chortles and snorts.

"Shush, before you get yourself in trouble."

I rolled my eyes, completely done with this scene. The Reaping was horrible, and I understood how serious it was. Two people were going to be taken to their death… Winnifred's demise in the last games still gave me shivers. Still, in about twenty minutes it wasn't going to be my problem ever again. I had no siblings and no chance of that ever happening. I didn't plan on getting married and, even if I did, no kids were being pushed out from between these legs. Nuh uh. Not going to happen, Padre. I always felt like Panem was crawling with orphans. They could use the bed instead.

Before I could respond, Julius sashayed onto the stage. His was glimmering stardust as his outfit swayed back and forth. It was like staring into the nebula that I had only seen in pictures. One thing the Capitol knew was how to put on a production. If I could command a stage half as well as a Capitolite then I would be selling out shows left and right.

"Time to pick a precious gem from this lovely district!"

He dug through it before pulling it out a slip dramatically. I sighed, wanting him to get this over with.

"Maddison Walker!"

I stood there, stunned. I didn't know how to react. This was never in my plans. It was always either become a stuffy scientist or a free-spirited magician. Two options and that was it. I never once pondered that this could happen to me… This couldn't be happening to me!

I saw his mouth open to call my name again, and I was crushed as I realized this was happening to me. I had to either choose to deny it or get with the picture.

Looks like I was joining the circus, Mom.

I laughed lightly and cut him off. As my small sound of fake amusement echoed, I thought about the trick I hadn't been forced to use in years. When you couldn't find it in you to fake a smile, just laugh. You'll have no choice but to grin. As usual, Grandpop was right. After that forced laugh, I couldn't stop the dishonest smile that followed. I refused to look at River next to me, knowing it would break whatever cheery façade I had created. I weaved through the crowd, a head shorter than everyone else. Why did the citizens of District Five have to be so tall?

I finally ascended the stage and stood as proudly as I could. I pretended like I was putting on a show for Grandpop or the random people of this district. All I had to was smile, wave, and look pretty… I only had to hold out for a couple of minutes.

"Is there anything you would like to say?" Julius asked after no one volunteered.

"Just that you must show me how you get your hair to be so soft and long!" I laughed as I touched his shoulder lightly.

Even I couldn't tell if I was mocking him or not, but he seemed touched that I was seeking his haircare advice. After gazing at me endearingly for a second, he moved onto the boys. As he dug around for a name, I gazed out onto the audience. Never in my life had I been able to see how plain and lifeless we appeared. Not a dot of color was in sight. Even the streamers were dull and boring. Every single face was deathly pale. A sea of specters stared back at me as if they were seeing me off to my death.

Smile! Be happy! Perform!

"Aster Merrin!"

This boy could have been anyone. It was like plucking a single ember from a fire pit. He appeared out of the crowd with his dirty blonde hair and light skin. He was tall and lanky, but frail at best. As he approached, I couldn't help but not feel a single thing towards him. He was as emotionless and empty as the rest of this district. My pipe shot dream of revitalizing this place and adding a splash of color was not only demolished, but implausible.

How could you revive something that was long dead?

As we shook hands, I couldn't stop my breathing from hitching. Suddenly, everything I had ever done seemed so futile. Nothing had prepared me for what was to come next, and it was no one's fault but my own. Every optimistic thought was gone. I was going to die.

I had always felt like this district was smothering me with their seriousness and flavorless lifestyles. Now that I was leaving, the feeling didn't go away.

I wasn't being smothered, but violently having every last breath strangled out of me as I suffocated.

Ooh it feels good to write again! I hope all of you are doing well with finals! It can be a rough time of year, especially with Christmas right around the corner! I most likely won't update again before Christmas, so I wish you all the best in celebrating it (or any other holiday you choose to commemorate!) I hope to hear from you all soon!

Merry Christmas,

Europa