Back in the districts:
In memory of Cameron Solidago, 21st place
"Do you really have to go?" Mary asked, lingering in the doorway and watching her eldest sibling finish packing the room's contents.
Moira sighed. "I already started renting the room from Mrs. Javier. There's no turning back now."
"But what about Sophie? You can't take her away from the rest of her family, can you?"
The mention of her daughter was enough to make Moira hesitate, before she shook her head and closed her bag. "She'll be fine. Geoff's parents are just across the street, so they'll help look after her when I'm working."
Mary wrapped her arms around herself. "Moira, I really don't want you to leave. I…you're my closest friend. I don't know what I'll do if you go. Things will no longer be the same anymore. It's scary."
"I know," Moira said gently. "But I can't stay here any longer. This family is falling apart and I can't take it anymore. This isn't right."
Cameron's death had shaken everything up in the Solidago household. It was like a dreaded light switch waiting to be flipped: the moment the young boy's cannon fired, all hell broke loose.
Secrets were spilled left and right, about the horrible things Moira's siblings had done. Davis's bastard child that he wasn't allowed to see, the things Nate and Cydney had done to each other, not to mention the horrible person Xavier turned out to be.
How could she ever say in good faith that this was the proper environment to raise her daughter?
Moira had already failed Cameron. She refused to do the same to Sophie.
"How do you think I feel?" Mary asked. "I had to go visit Xavier with Mom and Dad and you know what he said? That it should've been me who got thrown into the Games and died because if Cameron was still alive, none of this would've happened."
"It's not your fault," Moira said gently. Her things were finally packed and her side of the bedroom was now completely empty.
An idea struck her.
"You can come with us, if you want."
Mary froze. "I don't know, I couldn't…what will Mom and Dad think?"
"I love them with all my heart, but they genuinely don't know how to handle this." Moira tried to prevent the bitterness from seeping into her voice. "You can come back once the dust is settled and the proper consequences are dished out. But in the meantime, I wouldn't say no to a pair of helping hands."
Mary was quiet and Moira knew it was a lot for the young girl to take in. She was asking a really big thing for her sister.
"You can't change my mind. I have to do what's best for my daughter and this is what I feel is the correct path. But maybe we can help each other along the way. The rest of our siblings may be strangers now, but I don't want you to think that way about me."
"I'll go," Mary said softly.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I want to go."
In memory of Cora Buchanan, 18th place
"Come on, Zebe." Jonquil knew he was begging at this point, but he'd do anything to get his daughter to eat. "Have some dinner. Do it for papa, yeah?"
Zenobia just whined and squirmed in her seat.
Jonquil tried to keep it together. Everyone else had finished dinner. Zenobia used to be so good at this too, eating whatever her parents put in front of her without much complaint or fuss. Perhaps she sensed the way the energy in the Buchanan household had shifted for the worst.
He missed Cora. He missed them so damn bad. It wasn't fair, how they of all people had to be chosen and barely got a chance to survive before their life was tragically snuffed short. They were only fifteen and the whole world was their oyster.
They'd never get to see their baby grow up.
Jonquil couldn't hold it back anymore. He broke down sobbing right in front of his daughter. He could barely hear Zenobia's whines over his own cries and it just made him feel even more awful. He was supposed to be a good dad. He could barely get himself out of bed on a good day. How could he take care of Zenobia like this?
A worn hand was gently placed on his back. Jonquil looked up to see Cora's mother staring at him. Vanda Buchanan looked almost ten years older, but still managed to keep herself together in a way Jonquil envied.
"I can take over from here, if you want. Might be best to get some rest, you've been on your feet all day."
"I can't," Jonquil muttered. "I'm supposed to be taking care of my baby."
"And you are."
"I'm not. I'm a horrible father."
Vanda pulled out a chair and sat across from him, gently patting his face. "No, you are anything but. You are an amazing father, Jonquil. Cora used to tell me all the time how happy they were to have you in their life, that they wouldn't have come as far as they did without you. That doesn't sound like the mark of a horrible father to me."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course," Vanda nodded. "Dear, I've seen firsthand what a horrible father looks like." Her face contorted with guilt. "Perhaps too late. But you don't exhibit any of those qualities. You care for your daughter." She gently poked Zenobia's cheek.
"It's so hard," Jonquil admitted "I wish they were here. They were so much better at this than I am. I can't even get her to eat!"
Vanda took the spoon and held it up to Zenobia's mouth. "Don't worry, I'll make sure she gets fed. Go get some sleep. Cora wouldn't want you to stress yourself out like this."
"True," Jonquil said quietly. Vanda was right; Cora would want their little Zebe to be happy and healthy, but Jonquil couldn't take care of that if he wasn't taking care of himself. Jonquil threw himself onto the bed and closed his eyes.
He wouldn't give up. Tomorrow would be another day. He'd try again then.
In memory of Messier Chitra, 17th place
When their last surviving tribute finally fell, the entire prison was silent. The inmates all just watched as the cannon fired and Messier's body was finally taken away to be shipped back home and buried…if they had anyone left who wanted to bury them.
District 7's chances in the 101st Hunger Games were done for.
Eventually, the shock had worn off and everyone gradually returned to their regular routines. Messier had tried and they had failed, just like hundreds of tributes before them. It was pretty much the way of life at this point. Survivors were the exceptions when it came to the Hunger Games, not the norm.
"BULLSHIT!"
Everyone was startled, glancing over at an angry Deneb Chitra. He had stood up so fast his chair had been knocked over with a loud crash. "They rigged it! The Gamemakers fucking rigged it so my sibling would die!"
"Hey man." Aspen, Deneb's cellmate, reached out and touched his shoulder. "Don't make a scene. Do you want to get thrown into solitary again?"
"I don't care! You fuckers know I'm right!"
"Hey, look-"
"My sibling is dead! The President wanted them dead for no good reason! They weren't even given a chance! And everyone just wants to let that slide? How could you?"
Now the prison guards couldn't ignore the outburst any longer and they approached Deneb. "Mr. Chitra," the closest one said. "I suggest you get your attitude in check before you land yourself in hot water."
Deneb scowled at the ground. It was just so fucking unfair. How could the world just continue on in its normalcy when his entire family had now been slaughtered by Capiolite pigs? If the government just took care of its people, his father wouldn't have to resort to running a drug smuggling ring to get by.
Punish the survivor for trying to make ends meet, not the assholes who put that system in the first place. Punish a child for helping their family survive.
But of course the guards didn't care about his feelings. They just saw him as an annoying troublemaker. Well, fine. Two could play at that game.
So Deneb scowled at the guard. "You just don't want to admit that I'm right. That everything is a total joke."
"Mr. Chitra."
"Oh, now I'm the problem because I have a point?"
"Final warning."
"Fuck you," Deneb spat. He turned to the other inmates watching him. "Get up and stand your ground! None of us are ever getting out of here, so you might as well do something about it! Messier tried, what could be said about the rest of you? A bunch of spineless cowards, that's what! None of have the guts to actually try and prove that the Capitol is actually total-"
Something hard smacked him in the back of the head and Deneb collapsed onto the ground, emitting a series of gasps and surprised shouts from the inmates. Two guards grabbed him, one latching on either arm, and Deneb was dragged in the direction of the prison's solitary confinement cells.
In memory of Loire Lemaire, 14th place
Elouan used to never grip Sidonie's hand so tightly before. He used to never really touch her, period. Unless it was to sign something to her, Elouan was much more distant than Loire had ever been. Perhaps he was embarrassed to be seen with her before, viewing her as a bit of a burden. Loire had always been Sidonie's prime caretaker, while Elouan was off training and working.
But now, things had changed. Three kids had suddenly and hurtfully become only two. Sidonie may have been blind and deaf, but she wasn't an idiot. So what she couldn't see very well? She knew enough to tell people were staring at her and Elouan as they walked home. Elouan's body language and the way he always shoved her behind him as a means of protecting her proved it.
Sidonie understood why.
But aside from when they walked home, Elouan often left Sidonie to her own devices. Sidonie tried not to hold that against him. Elouan had always been like this, often preferring to do his own thing. She knew he was grieving in his own way. Loire's death had hit them both hard.
Their home was empty; all of Loire's artwork had been sold off to help make ends meet. Sidonie liked to view that as Loire's way of looking out for them even though she wasn't physically present anymore.
She knew Elouan felt differently about him. Like life was taunting him. His twin was dead and he'd still never be as good as her.
Dinner was eaten in silence, both teenagers picking at their food as neither had much of an appetite as of late. Sidonie wondered if she should communicate something to Elouan, to let him know she still loved him and needed him. That she understood what he was going through more than anybody else and she didn't want him to lose himself in his mourning. It was a very difficult time to get through, but he wasn't alone and that was the most important part.
She gently knocked on the table to get his attention. Once Elouan was looking at her, Sidonie held her hands out, a signal that she had something to sign to him.
"I still need you."
Elouan's hands were clammy.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
Elouan was gripping her a little more tightly now. "It's not."
Sidonie reached out until she felt her cousin's cheek against her palm. She began to gently pat it, hoping it would help calm him down. It suddenly felt wet. Was he crying?
"Ssssshhhh," she said out loud, even though she couldn't hear her own voice. She felt Elouan back away from her for a brief moment, then come back as he pulled her into a tight hug. Sidonie let him rest his head on his shoulder until he seemed calmer and ready for her to sign to him again.
"It's okay. You have me. I'm here for you." She kept repeating those three sentences over and over and over until it felt like Elouan was finally beginning to understand.
In memory of Ascella Fuhari, 11th place
The soles of the shoes were starting to wear out. It made Antares feel sad because he really liked this pair and he knew Ascella had painstakingly saved up for them. He made up his mind right then and there to continue to wear the shoes for as long as he possibly could.
That was his little way of honouring his dead sibling, even though Mommy said that Ascella wouldn't mind and would just want him to be happy. That was nice of em. Ascella was always like that: so unbelievably nice. A total ray of sunshine, Mommy used to call em. Even at the very end, facing a brutal painful demise, ey had still gone out smiling.
Antares hadn't actually seen Ascella's death on TV. Mommy had covered his eyes when it happened. But he had heard eir final words and it made him feel a little bit better to know that Ascella said ey loved him. Only a little bit. It was still very sad not having em in the house anymore.
He hoped ey knew how proud he was of em. Mommy said ey had done a good job and never lost sight of who ey were, which was very important. Antares agreed.
He found himself playing on the floor of Ascella's bedroom. Much of eir stuff had been cleared out and sold to pay for eir funeral, but the tomato and green bean plants remained. Antares liked the plants. His new favourite thing to do was sit next to the plants and tell them how his day went. Sometimes, he could convince Mommy to join him as well.
The plants reminded him of Ascella and eir love for all things growing. Maybe it was just him being silly, but he liked to imagine that the occasional shifting of the leaves meant that Ascella was listening to him through the greenery, like eir soul was still there.
Antares shot a look at the plants. He had taken up Ascella's old job of watering them, and now he couldn't imagine this room without the greenery. But something about the plants seemed different, which made Antares worry.
Then he realized.
The tomatoes and the green beans were finally full grown. Antares suddenly jumped to his feet and ran out the door. He came hurrying into Mommy's bedroom. "Mommy? Mommy! Get up, get up, get up!"
"Honey, it's just the two of us! No need to shout." Mommy pulled Antares off her. "Now, what's got you so excited?"
"Ascy's plants! They've grown!"
He pulled Mommy from her bed and into Ascella's bedroom to show her. Mommy's eyes widened in surprise. "Really! I thought we'd never see the day."
"Can we pick them, Mommy?"
"Of course, dear." Mommy kissed him on the forehead. "Tell you what, we'll cook up the green beans tonight and make a sauce tomorrow with the tomatoes. Wouldn't you like fresh tomato sauce with some pasta?"
Antares nodded. "That sounds really yummy."
"That it does. Do you want to help me pick the vegetables?"
Antares did.
In memory of Walker Jeong, 10th place
Dinner was getting cold. Rhonda sighed, really wishing she hadn't made so much food. She had completely forgotten that it would only be her around to eat it.
It would be nice for the Jeongs to come home early for once, but they seemed to stay out later than ever. Rhonda didn't even bother staying up late to meet them anymore and they never commented. She wondered if they even remembered they still had her around.
Something told her with Walker gone, she no longer had a charge and might be out of a job very soon. Which was unfortunate, because Mr. and Mrs. Jeong always paid quite well and Rhonda had grown rather fond of the family over the years. It was hard to say goodbye to them in these circumstances.
But she knew grief had a funny way of affecting people differently. Walker was such a passionate and sweet little boy who had a bright future ahead of him, and that was all done for. She missed him dearly. The house felt so much emptier now, the lack of Walker's presence affecting it for the worst.
Rhonda didn't really want to dwell on that any further. She ate her dinner, then packaged up the leftovers for tomorrow's lunch. The house, which saw more use out of her than it did anyone else, was still very clean, leaving Rhonda with not much to actually do in order to prepare things for tomorrow. She decided to catch up on her reading.
The hours passed and evening turned to nightfall. Rhonda had finished her book and was now starting to feel a bit bored. She eyed the chess set sitting by the cupboards, which hadn't been touched in a while. A wave of sadness washed over her.
There was a knock at the door.
Rhonda hurried through the hallways and opened it. Nothing could've prepared her for what she saw on the other side: a pair of large and imposing Peacekeepers. Rhonda bit back the urge to yelp in surprise and kept her cool. "Can I help you two?"
"Are Park and Alexis Jeong home?" The taller Peacekeeper asked.
Rhonda shook her head. "No. They're always out at this time."
Her mind was racing. What did my employers do that would cause the Peacekeepers to come looking for them? Shoot. Should I let them know?
"Well, in that case…" The Peacekeeper sounded disappointed. "When they do come home, please ask them to report to the Justice Building as soon as possible. And it's best that you do. Harbouring a criminal could land you in trouble as well."
"O-of course," Rhonda agreed; anything to make these two leave. Once the Peacekeepers were gone, she quickly closed the door. Her heart was pounding.
And right there, she made up her mind. She would not be turning the Jeongs in. Not after they had done so much for her over the years. Not after they had just lost their only child.
She decided to put tonight out of her head as soon as possible and pretend nothing unusual had happened. Some things were better left unattended to.
In memory of Reggie Baxter, 8th place
It was another day in District 12. Absolutely nothing had changed for the coal miners with the deaths of two new tributes. Lyle wished things had, though. That the universe was willing to give him a chance to recover after losing his beloved. That he would get a moment to mourn and cry and scream and cuss out the Capitol…whatever he needed to do. Maybe it would help, maybe it wouldn't.
But life didn't work like that. Never ever did. Lyle was just a grand speck of nothing in the entire universe. Time marched on, regardless of who lived and who died. Fate didn't care how Lyle felt, how he wanted to just shut himself away from the rest of the world and never resurface. Fate had other matters to attend to.
But he couldn't. People still needed him. He had work to do. He couldn't let others down just so he could go wallow miserably in his own grief. That wasn't fair. Healers were never supposed to let their emotions get in the way of their work. Healers were supposed to be professional at all times.
Maybe staying busy would help keep him distracted.
Lyle put on the white lab coat that had once belonged to Reggie. No longer did it smell like him. A sign of how Reggie was truly gone for good. How he'd never come home and pull Lyle into his arms and kiss him passionately.
No. No he wasn't going to dwell on it any longer. Lyle trudged out to the clinic. It was empty, which made him feel a bit better because he really didn't want to work today. He knew that wasn't really fair of him, though. What if someone genuinely needed his help?
Minutes slowly ticked by into hours. Then it was afternoon. Nobody had shown up yet. Lyle was starting to feel antsy. Where was everyone? Did people just not need him today? Or was he intentionally being avoided?
God damn it. Lyle wished Reggie was here to tell him what he was doing wrong and how to correct it. Reggie always knew better. Lyle was just the sidekick, the lackey. Never the one in charge. Being the new face of the clinic now scared him.
How could he ever help someone in this state? He was no Reggie. Reggie knew everything. Lyle just followed his orders.
Lyle thought back to the funeral and how he had been the only one who showed up. Sure people had stopped by the clinic to drop off flowers and apologies, but that was far as their mourning went. Lyle was the only one who watched his boyfriend get buried. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And he had nobody around who could understand even just a little bit of what he was going through.
It was like the universe wanted him to be alone in his misery. Was punishing him somehow, but Lyle didn't even know what for.
At that point, he couldn't hold back his emotions anymore and he broke down sobbing right there on the table.
It just wasn't fair.
In memory of Vivian Shaw, 6th place
"It was a beautiful funeral," Roxanne said sadly, but her husband didn't respond. She decided not to push it. Ever since Vivian's death, which both Shaws felt was very unfair, Pinot had been moody and sullen.
They walked back to their house together and got to work. Their financial situation was more dire than ever. Roxanne didn't exactly want to do this, but money was tight and she didn't have a choice. Life stopped for nobody.
She entered her late daughter's bedroom, looking for items and furniture that wasn't too sentimental to sell.
Armed with a stack of empty cardboard boxes, Roxanne got to work. Keeping busy helped keep her grief at bay. She couldn't allow herself to fall apart. Her family needed her and so Roxanne would soldier on despite the weight of the world pressing down on top of her.
When she needed motivation, she thought of Vivian. Vivian never gave up despite all odds constantly being stacked against her, and so neither would Roxanne. It was her roundabout way of honouring Vivian's legacy, and it made her feel a little bit better.
Most of the clothes were ready to go. A lot of it was hand-me-down or gifts from Roxanne's friends and coworkers dating back to when times were really dire but Vivian had hit a growth spurt. Whatever was still in good condition would be regifted or sold as necessary; Roxanne knew it certainly would help any families with girls more needy than her. Vivian's training gear was in good shape as well. Roxanne hoped the District 1 trainers would give her at least something for it.
Toys that Vivian hadn't played with in years were next. Roxanne filled up all the boxes, then carried them into the hallway to be taken care of at a later date. She closed the bedroom door behind her, not wanting to linger in the empty space for longer than she needed. It made her hollow. It was a stark reminder of the child she had lost.
"You can't throw that one out."
Roxanne glanced up as Pinot picked up a stuffed lion that was sitting on top of the box filled with toys. "The rest can go. This can't."
"Why?"
"You don't remember?" Pinot asked, cradling the lion to his chest. "I got this for her before she was born. You can't get rid of it."
The age of the lion was certainly showing, but Roxanne didn't realize it was that old. But these were the first words Pinot had spoken in days. Clearly this meant something to him, and she wasn't going to trample all over that.
"I thought we got rid of all her baby toys years ago."
Pinot shrugged. "Clearly, she wanted to keep this one."
"What should we do with it, then?"
Pinot brought the lion into the living room, and then placed it in the centre of the mantle above the fireplace. "It can sit here. Keep a watch over everything."
Roxanne studied the lion, then nodded. It certainly looked quite happy up there.
In memory of Hunter Appalachie, 5th place
"Alright, boys." Ted slung his game bag over his shoulder. "Ready to get goin'?"
Joey watched her family get ready from the doorway, before giving her husband a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Please be careful, dear. The Peacekeepers have been crackin' down on things as of late. Don't get caught."
Ted hugged Joey close. "I promise we won't."
"I'm ready," Tanner spoke up, Soren following right behind his brother. Ted just nodded in response, and the three men left the household to begin their day of trapping. It was still early out, so most people in the district were still asleep. That was exactly what Ted wanted. The less people that were around, the less attention they attracted. One could never take too many precautions when it came to slipping outside the district boundaries.
Once they were through the hole in the fence, it was time to check the traps. Ted sent his sons in one direction before heading off in the other. It was strange not having Hunter with them this time. He had always been such a good help when it came to trapping.
But, what could Ted do about it? He was just a lowly man. And the Capitol had always had it out for his family. Taking away his brother and his sister-in-law wasn't enough, apparently; they had to punish his nephew too. For the crime of being born to the wrong people, Ted supposed.
Maybe it was a warning, a sign to get into line before things got worse, but that wasn't going to stop Ted Appalachie from just trying to feed his family. After all, wasn't it better to have died for something than to have lived for nothing?
He checked the traps. As per usual, most were empty, but two had squirrels inside. Ted removed the animals, taking extra care, and placed them in his game bag. After resetting all the traps, Ted then headed back to meet up with his sons.
"Anythin'?" He asked.
Soren looked disappointed. "Nah. All were empty. Get some good stuff?"
"Just a couple a' squirrels." Ted sighed. "We won't sell them to the Kingsleys this time, we'll just take 'em home to Joey instead. Guess what we're havin' for supper!"
"Goose?" Soren asked sarcastically. Tanner just rolled his eyes.
Ted scoffed. "Very funny, boy. Alright, let's get outta here."
Getting back through the hole in the fence and through the district wasn't too difficult, and the trio was home by afternoon. Joey took a look inside the game bag and smiled. "Well, at least we'll be eatin' a good stew tonight. Tanner go start sharpenin' the knives, please?"
The Appalachies worked together to prepare dinner, from boiling water to slicing up potatoes that were added into the squirrel stew. The squirrels were skinned, the meat was cubed, and it didn't take too long before everything was prepared.
Ted took a sudden look at the dinner table and then sighed heavily. "Joey?"
Joey looked up from the cauldron she was stirring. "Yes, dear?"
"You set the table for five again."
In memory of Arietis Rammestien, 3rd place
"Dude, you gotta get up at some point." Nick sighed. "Seriously. You know what's today, right?"
Carlos muttered something the other boy couldn't hear before burrowing further into his blanket.
"What was that?"
"Of course I know what today is! Everybody's been reminding me nonstop!" Carlos kicked off his blanket and folded his arms. "If they think it'll make me feel better, they're wrong. It's actually making me feel worse."
"Well…did you try telling everybody that?"
"What's the use," Carlos huffed. "It doesn't matter. Everyone thinks I'm this poor little heartbroken homosexual twink who just lost the love of his life and has been plunged into despair because of it. And I'm tired of it. It doesn't help to have all these strangers walk on eggshells around me."
Nick sucked in a breath, unsure of how to help. "Oh-kay. But they're all gonna be expecting you to be at the funeral. You can't really miss out on that."
"Did anyone ever consider the possibility that I don't want to go to the funeral?" Carlos seethed. "No. Nobody ever asks me what I think or how I actually feel, do they?"
"Dude. Everyone's gonna be there."
"I don't care."
"It's gonna look rude if you don't go."
"Still don't care."
Nick slipped a hoodie on. "Well, I'm going to be polite and go to the funeral for our fallen tributes. You can stay in here for all I care. See ya later, dumbass."
"Fine!" Carlos yelled. He buried back into his blanket as his roommate stormed off and slammed the door shut. He groaned to himself. Nobody understood what he was going through, nobody wanted to understand what he was going through. It was just so fucking unfair.
And to make matters worse, Carlos wasn't sure how he actually felt about Arietis's death. To call it complicated was an understatement. He shouldn't feel so torn up, but he did. He was upset, but at the same time, completely numb.
Was it normal to feel that way?
Carlos wished that there was a simple answer for him. But life was never simple. Love was never simple. Maybe he still held a bit of affection for Arietis after all. Not enough to feel heartbroken. Their relationship had ended for a good reason and it was better that way. But Carlos didn't hate Arietis. He never could.
It had seemed like such a slam dunk for Arietis to win. He was the frontrunner, everybody said. The obvious choice to root for. Arietis had everything in the bag, until he didn't. And some cowardly little outlier who didn't deserve it had taken home the crown.
It wasn't fucking fair.
But Carlos didn't really care about all that. Regardless of who won the 101st Hunger Games, Arietis was dead.
He needed a moment to himself to sort things out and make peace with all that had happened. But as much as Carlos had tried, he just couldn't. His mind was too much of a jumbled mess. Feeling everything and nothing at the same time. Anger and sadness but also emptiness and void. How was anybody supposed to cope with it?
And he had nobody who could help him.
In memory of Avonlea Headden, 2nd place
"But I don't wanna drop out of training!" Locklyn knew that she sounded childish and whiny, but she really didn't care.
"Really?" Monroe asked, sounding annoyingly condescending, which Locklyn absolutely hated. "You wanna end up like our sister, then. That's what I'm hearing."
"I didn't say that!"
"Then you stay out of the Games, Locklyn. Do you really want to throw your life away?"
"I'm not throwing my life away! And you don't get to make the decision for me!"
"Girls!" Mom stepped into the room. "What is all the ruckus about? I'm trying to take a nap!"
"It's nothing-" Monroe tried to say, but Locklyn cut her off.
"Mom, Monroe is trying to take me out of training. Which is my choice, by the way. Not hers. So she can gladly back off!"
"There's no need to yell," Mom sighed. "Monroe, do you have a good explanation for this?"
"Do you want to lose another daughter?"
"Answer the question please, Monroe."
"I'm being serious! We saw how dangerous the Games were and how we lost Avonlea."
"She came in second," Locklyn retorted.
"And she's still dead. The only thing that matters in the Games is winning."
"And I can win!"
"No!" Monroe scowled at her little sister. "No you can't. You're going to die!"
"Monroe!" Mom shouted, but by then, it was too late. Locklyn burst into tears. Mom reached out to her, but she shoved past her family and ran into her bedroom, making sure to slam the door shut as loudly as she possibly could. It echoed through the house. Locklyn threw herself onto her bed and felt the tears continue to stream down her face.
Why did Avonlea have to die? She was so unbelievably close to winning too! Locklyn had always admired her big sister's dedication to training and moving forward in the Games. Training meant a lot to the both of them. It was the one connection the two had.
And now Monroe was making her drop it.
Locklyn buried her face into her pillow as she sobbed. Stupid Monroe! Who always thought he stupid philosophies were right and only cared about being high and mighty. She didn't know how important training was to Locklyn, and she had no interest in learning. Why did Locklyn have to listen to Monroe anyways? She was a big girl! She could make her own damn decisions!
Through the door, Locklyn could faintly hear her mother and Monroe arguing which made her feel a little bit better. But she wasn't ready to face either of them yet. Right now, all she wanted was to just be alone.
Maybe someday, she'd grow bigger and stronger. Maybe down the line, she'd be the greatest contender District 4 had ever seen. She'd volunteer for the Games, just like Avonlea had, and absolutely tear the arena apart with her own hands. She'd make the District 3 tributes suffer; how dare they think they deserved to win over Avonlea? Locklyn would show them. She'd show them all.
But today, she was just a sad little girl whose dreams felt too far to even reach.