Lena- District Six (17)
Hide away, fade away, shrink back and disappear. My father threw open the door and lurched for the money my mother hid in the sugar jar, the money she used to buy our food and keep us clothed. She begged him to stop and their voices rose. I slid under the tablecloth as I heard her cry out in pain.
The next day we went hungry. My mother tended to my father when he stumbled back home and collapsed. Their only daughter sat aside and tried not to be in the way. She wondered if she was an only child because they didn't want any more or because they had never wanted any. They had enough trouble without a daughter. Guilt was the result of my birth and silence was my penitence.
I looked at the ground as I walked into the schoolhouse. I rarely spoke, and they rarely spoke to me. Teachers assumed I was too slow to speak up in class. The others usually didn't notice I was there. I was a ghost in the halls and a passing breeze among the students. Someone brushed against me as I walked to my desk and I jumped.
Once a week there was my only bright spot. When art class came, I smeared my feelings onto paper and watched the colors combine and shift. I didn't need to blend in here. I could fill the page with vibrant lines and swirling rainbows. Art was the only thing that felt right and beautiful. I smiled and on the inside I danced. I longed to merge into my drawings and be as bright and carefree as the colors.
I couldn't disappear when the man called my name. I had to stand in front of the crowd and hide in my own mind. I tried to make them fade like I couldn't fade myself. My mother cried as she held me. My father didn't come. I'd never have to see him again, and that almost made it worthwhile.
I hid during the parade, crouched behind the lip of the chariot and covered in gaudy fabrics. I hid during my interview, silent as the man tried to coax bravery or confidence from me. When it was time for training I found the paint station and my first friend. The woman didn't mind that I spent all day with her and drew fireworks and sunsets on her backdrop. She cheered me on and encouraged me to be bolder and brighter. She made me feel like I was worth something.
The others watched me when I was supposed to show them how I would win. I had nothing to show. I knelt down by the paints and drew a flower. Soon they lost interest and left me alone. I spread out a garden until the buzzer sounded and I had to leave. Red roses and curving orchids covered the ground for the next Tribute to see. Sunkissed leaves made the room look like a greenhouse.
When everyone started running, the gray of the rocky Arena was mixed with so much red. I slipped away beneath everyone's notice and ran over the rocks, their sharp edges scratching at my feet and hands. I stopped by a river and ran my fingers through the cool mud. I drew patterns on myself and savored my last few hours of life. I covered myself with drawings, laid down by the water, and faded away.
I feel presumptuous messing with Canon, but I did give the female morphling a first name. I didn't want to leave her nameless forever. This conflicts with Toby being Six's only Victor because I wrote myself into a corner. Lena was already a morphling by the time my first full story, about the 23rd Games, was set, so that at least explains a little about why Toby is alone. Enjoy her story as it is and sorry about the plot hole.