AN: I'm so terribly sorry to any readers who have been waiting on more. I don't know when my next post will be, but I promise that someday I will finish my story! I'm just a very busy person. Thank you again for reading, especially those who have been here since the beginning! Any reviews are helpful and appreciated. :)
Update: I added part of the next post to the end of this chapter. It just didn't feel quite finished where I left it before. Let me know how you feel about it, especially if you don't like where it stopped.
Chapter 9
The walk home gives me time to compose myself, but as I open the front door, I find out quickly that I did not compose myself well enough.
"Lynetta Rose! Get in here and close that door. What if they neighbors see?"
My mother races over to me as I slam the door shut. Her fingers grasp my hair, pulling it so tight that I swear it's about to rip out. It hurts, but I know better than to make a sound. She talks as she uses my hair to direct my body to a kitchen chair and throwing me into it.
"Why? Why is your hair a mess? And your eyes, they are blood red! Start talking young lady. This is unacceptable."
I hate to lie to her, but what else can I do? Protecting my memory of Markas is all I have left. I won't let her steal him from me, even if he is gone. But I still hate to lie. So I tell a half-truth.
"Genever... I-I... I had a breakdown. I am truly sorry, momma. I just miss her so much."
I do miss her. Every day. I even start thinking about her now, enough that I don't see my mother's hand coming until it is inches from my face. Pain radiates across my cheek. I should have known it would happen. I deserve it so much more than she knows.
"If you keep up appearances like that around town, moping about over the girl, you're going to find yourself dead next. Hush up and don't let me find you looking like this in public again. Now run upstairs and get washed for dinner."
I nod my head in compliance and dash up to my room, realizing that being alone is not always the worst thing in the world.
My eyes stay closed as I listen to the ruckus my mother is making downstairs. It takes a moment to place in my mind why she is so busy, but then I remember. It's May 1st. The morning of my sixteenth birthday. She's probably cleaning the house to prepare for company tonight. I don't know who she has coming over though. I pick my brain, trying to find a lost memory of her mentioning anyone in specific. Not recalling anyone in particular, my mind drifts. Last year, Genever and her mother both came over to celebrate with us. It was the first time Genever had ever tasted cake. But she cannot come today. Genever is gone. And her mother would not come over alone. Only month after Genever left District 12, her parents stopped speaking to everyone. Especially her mother. Nowadays, I don't think she even speaks at all.
Reminiscing about Genever always leaves a hollow feeling in my chest, but for now, I breathe deeply and try to ignore it. Just as I'm about to get out of bed, her memory takes over me, overwhelming my mind. Pictures play in my head, racing, blurring one into the next, and every thought of her that flashes leaves me writhing in pain. Playing cards in her room. Bang. Sitting outside the town church together to hear the pianist practice. Bang. The distinct sound of her laughter. Bang. Bang. Bang. Soon, I'm clutching my knees against my chest, trying to brace myself from the turmoil inside. Tears stream down my face, and my pillow thankfully stifles the sobs. Papa might still be home, and the last thing I want is for him to find me like this.
Ever since Markas broke up with me, all that I do is focus on not breaking down. At school, when he ignores me. After school, when I'm all alone with my studies. At night when my father comes home. Merchant girls do not sob. Merchant girls are strong and silent. They know how to keep their composure. It's one of the things that separates them from the idiotic bluntness of the Seam. Composure earns respect. Respect earns money. And money means food. Plus, I do not want to chance my mother finding out about my sorrows again, not for the rest of my life if I can help it.
So, after a few deep breaths, I lift myself out of bed and wipe the tears from my cheeks. A few more exhales and my eyes feel less puffy. Looking into the mirror, I thankfully see the familiar face I've grown accustomed to over the past two months. I see a young woman who is numb inside, wiped of emotion, empty, feeling nothing.
My fingers smooth out my hair as I walk downstairs to my flustered mother. She's on all fours, scrubbing soot and dirt from the floor.
"Lynnetta, dear, will you run to the bakery and give Mr. Mellark the money on the table? I need to get it to him for your cake tonight. We want everything to be nice for Mayor Overton."
Ah, that's who's coming over tonight, the mayor and his wife. Of course, I should have guessed. My father was taught by his parents to climb the social ladder, and him inviting anyone less than the Mayor would be obviously detrimental to that climb.
"Yes, mother. Is there anything else you need me to do today?" I ask as sweetly as I can. I know she's building up a lot of stress over tonight's company, and the last thing I need is her blowing up on me.
"Actually, yes. Go to the shop and find some ribbon to put in your hair. Make sure it matches your nice blue dress. And maybe see if you can get some flowers for cheap with the leftover money from the cake."
"I'll see what I can do. Be back soon, momma," I smile as I grab the coins.
The change jingles in my pocket on the way to my father's shop. Stopping there first sounds best, since ribbon is easy to carry and the shop is on the way to the bakery anyway. As I rounded the corner, a small girl runs towards me, crying. The curly mop of dark hair flying behind her strikes in my memory, and as she bolts past me, I am sure I know who it is. Reya.
As the realization hits me, I hear my father's voice.
"And stay away from here, you filthy rat!"
Blinking to gain back my focus, I see his blurry figure in front of the shop door, waving a broom in the air wildly. My feet move against my will, and soon I am standing next to him.
"Lynnetta, you would not believe the day I have had. First, I caught a mouse eating some of our best muslin, and then that girl came in begging for money. I have a right-mind to call the Peace Keepers on her, you know."
I can feel it… the pain from this morning, throbbing in my throat. Not here, I think. Not now. Not in front of papa. Thankfully my eyes are still dried up from all the crying this morning. But he still sees my distress, and attributes it to him yelling at Reya.
"Lynnetta, don't you dare pity that girl. Listen to me now, you show one mongrel from the Seam any kind of pity, and they'll swarm you. Never show them any weakness. They're too stupid to know any manners, and will never leave you be."
My head nods in understanding, but my father does not notice. I try to find my hollow shell exterior as he continues on, but it becomes harder to shove my emotions back down into hiding where they belong.
"The children from the Seam are dirt. And if we allow ourselves to associate with them, then we ourselves become dirty. Never play in the dirt, Lynnetta. Promise me that. Promise me-"
"HE'S NOT DIRT, PAPA! I LOVE HIM," I shout. My hands clap over my mouth, but it is too late.
His smack echoes against the stone walls in the town square. The deep burning in my cheek is matched evenly with the burning anger in my father's eyes. For the next few seconds, everything remains silent. My mind is still blank from the shock, but somehow I can tell that others nearby are staring, waiting to see what will happen next. And I'll be damned if I let my father do anything more. It is my birthday, after all. So I run.
My father grabs for my arm a moment too late. Enraged, he chases after me, but my youth and slender frame have given me the advantage. I hear him lunge at me from behind, one last attempt to capture me. A slight tug on my dress from his fingers disappears quickly, as he trips and falls to the ground. He yells out in pain. I take advantage of his mistake, and flee faster than before.
Colors whirl around me. The muggy, spring air makes it hard to breathe. But I've made my choice, I cannot easily return to my family now. After running for what seems like ages, my stride has changed from that of a frightened doe to a slow jog. Taking a second to observe my surroundings, I find myself just inside the Victor's Village. A shadowy figure is staring at me, waiting at the opposite end of the plaza.