Sketches on a Tudor Psalm: Games 51 Chapter 4: The Other Side of All I've Had and Lost, a hunger games fanfic

A/N: Trigger Warning.

Nervous, sweaty hands wiped themselves on the bottom of the skirt of a dress that hung just a little bit over her knees. When she pressed her hands on the skirt, the feeling of rough, scratchy tulle pressed against her legs. She pulled her foot a little bit in her flat shoes so she didn't have to stand on the front of her hoes, making a little bit of a face at the feeling of it. It was a rare night that Mom helped her straighten her hair – but still not wearing make-up, yet, as she was only fifteen.

Her hair was hot when it came back to touch her cheek, flipped up a little bit at the ends to give something just a little different. Her hair didn't curl so much like the really popular girls, but it also wasn't totally straight on its own like a lucky few.

"There you are!" said Mom, smiling at her in the mirror. "Beauty-ful."

Astra leaned forward and looked at herself in the mirror, gently touching her hair which had quickly cooled down from the straightener, worried that if she touched it too much, it would wave just a little bit, in the bad way. But she was more than happy with how it looked and smiled into the mirror at herself. She felt pretty for once, in her dress, with her nice shoes, her hair done like that.

"Thanks Mom," she said with a smile as she leaned back against her for a moment before she got up, taking a deep breath. "I've never been to a dance before… Is it going to be loud?"

"Probably," said Mom. "But you're going to have a good time with your friends. And they'll be here soon, so we need to do pictures before they all get here." She slapped her legs, and all of a sudden the stressed-out look appeared back on her face as she checked her watch and let out a quiet curse as she started storming through the house searching for her phone. "We need to get pictures! Come on!" she called to everyone. Even though she knew nobody was in trouble, Astra felt a certain familiar feeling of tightness in her chest as she got up and hurried through the bathroom toward the parlor where Steph was already waiting for her.

"Wow!" said Steph when she saw her sister. "Look at you! Oh, I'm glad I was able to come home, I didn't want to miss this." She smiled and Astra smiled back at her sister. She missed her when she was gone, studying programming in a small collegiate program deep in the heart of downtown – a short drive for her to make, of course, but she was still very busy.

"Thanks Steph," said Astra as Dad was breathing a little heavy when he was wheeling himself into the parlor to see her.

"Duncan!" Mom yelled to Astra's twin who was dragging his feet.

"I'm peeing!" yelled Duncan back to her from the bathroom, but there was just so much anger in both of their voices that Astra's heart started pumping hard again, she hated when they were so angry all the time. But she could see the time ticking away. No, of course they couldn't do their family pictures with the family of Astra's friends in the room, that would be embarrassing, too much attention on them all, nobody cared about their family pictures.

"Alright, we'll do sisters first. Get together." But it wasn't a fun thing. It was stressful for Astra to go over with Steph. "Oh that background is hideous. Move over, be centered by the mantle."

Without a word, the daughters both followed orders, just wanting to get this done and over with quickly. Picture smiles came on their faces as Mom tapped the picture button once and then put down her phone. "Alright, into the picture," she said to Dad, who leaned forward a little bit to wheel himself over, turning himself around to back in next to Astra. "Here," said Mom, holding up the phone and once more the smiles came on without much of a second thought. "Astra put your head down, that lighting makes your nose look weird and Grandma will complain."

Astra didn't even talk, and just followed orders instead, knowing that there wasn't time to dilly-dally around. Once Mom got that picture, Duncan finally showed up. He was dressed as nice as he had to be for pictures and no nicer – her twin had no real desire to go to a dance and was just there for pictures.

"Alright, twins!" said Mom, trying to sound happy but nobody was happy right now as they were all so stressed about people coming over soon. But of course, Duncan and Astra both gave their picture smiles.

"Duncan, stop with that stupid face," said Mom and gave him a look.

"This is just how I smile for pictures," Duncan complained, but he tried – unsuccessfully – to fix the problem. Mom sighed – it was clear she was less than happy but there was nothing Astra could do to fix that problem.

She wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt once more and then pulled them to herself.

"Alright Mom, go ahead," said Steph, holding out her hand for the phone.

"Oh, that's fine," said Mom, but she did hand the phone over after a second and went over with Astra. "Stand in front of me," she said, pulling Astra a little bit in front who knew the drill and smiled for the camera.

Did this dress make her body look weird? For a moment she was aware of it as Dad came over to join the two of them for a few pictures.

"Are we doing a full family picture?" asked Astra. She wanted to have one to print out and put in her backpack, or hang on her wall, or something.

"What we have is fine, we don't need to be asking someone else for that," said Mom, going over to use a nail to reset Astra's part and push her bangs to the side.

"Can I go back to my game now?" asked Duncan, and Mom gave him a look, but nodded, so off he went, door closed, just gone.

"You know he could be a little more aware of his sister doing the drive home for this," said Mom, shaking her head in disappointment, but she would never say that to his face – she would never say any of it to their faces. But the siblings talked when they could.

"Oh, he's a boy," said Dad, the first he'd spoken at all, Astra was realizing. "You're beautiful," he added to her with a smile. "And you're going to have a great time."

"Thanks Dad," said Astra, feeling… Just a little awkward about getting a compliment from him, for some reason. They just didn't really… Spend that much time together. As always, they got everything done with more than enough time to spare, and were sitting around and staring at each other for a few minutes before the first doorbell went off for Astra's friends.

One by one, the girls came in with their parents. Each one that came in made Astra more excited. Oh, Nola's white dress was so princess-y, and she got to wear make-up! Alexis's hair was professionally done and her dress was short and showed her skinny legs. Sandra had two older sisters and they were taking so many pictures of her and telling her over and over again how excited they were for her.

Then here was Astra. Just… Well, just Astra.

"Alright girls, get together for pictures!" Astra stood on the end, putting her arm around Nola and feeling… Well, a little awkward, because they were all so beautiful and she suddenly felt like a tall lanky awkward nerd, just a little bit.

Once everyone had their pictures, they loaded up into Mom's big car – she insisted on driving the girls – and got dropped off at the middle school where the music was already playing, colorful strobe lights already flashing.

The boys looked so nice, but Astra wasn't allowed to date til high school. But they were so cute, though they didn't really pay attention to her. Of course they wouldn't.

She walked in the back of the group.

She couldn't speak over the music loud enough, even though she could hear her friends. It was like they didn't even hear her. It just wasn't really like her to yell out so loudly. And it got her left behind.

She watched her friends go without her, trying to follow them, but it was like she didn't even exist to him. She could have disappeared and they never would have known.

Astra didn't enjoy the dance. It was hot, stuffy, and crowded. The music wasn't the kind that she liked and she didn't even really like to dance. But worst of all, the dance made her aware of a truth she was trying so desperately to avoid. She wasn't important to them. She couldn't speak up to them.

She was nothing to them but a ghost.

…

Failure.

She could feel the failure in her bones.

In the moment, it was all a blur. In the moment, she was just trying to stay afloat. It was like she blacked out, like someone other than her had control of her body. Someone forcing her to be okay. Someone moving her arms, her lips, her vocal chords. And when that happened, her brain just… Shut down.

And yet, she was still talking.

She was still moving.

She was still instructing. There was just a total disconnect between her body and her brain. And yet, deep within her breast lived anxiety. Anxiety that she wasn't doing a good enough job. Disillusionment with what she was saying and doing. In a way, a loss of control.

Then again, did she ever have control? Ever?

It was like a demon lingered in the very back of her brain, its shadowy fingers reaching out toward the cage around her heart. And yet, pushed in front of it, was an exhausted lightbulb that flickered, yet had no choice but to glow.

She was lucky she got to do this.

She was lucky to be here. Most kids like her had to go straight to the factory just to feed their starving families. They couldn't imagine being able to do an internship, especially not at a school. Many of them were brighter than her, better with the kids, with more self-confidence, and greater control of the classroom, and they were working in those factories instead, their faces dirty, doing work that Astra couldn't even imagine. Those kids were strong. Those kids knew hard work. Astra wasn't like them.

Her brother was part of a fast-track computer science program through their school. Her sister was pursuing higher education – a ridiculously incredible achievement for any kid from the District. They were so smart. They were going to get high paying jobs. They wouldn't ever have to budget their funds – fuck, not budgeting, Astra didn't even know where to start with any of that. She tried not to spend so frivolously like her parents, but she still just felt… Insecure about it all. She felt so sheltered she didn't even know how to branch out. She thought that teaching art would be her way out of there. It would be her way to have a job that she loved.

…But did she love it? Did she even like it?

Right now, she didn't know. But she feared she didn't have a choice. This was the path she picked. Too late to go through a different track at school and actually get a secure, well-paying job downtown. That was what she wanted.

…

Too late.

Too late to do something quiet.

Too late to do something that utilized her artistic attention to detail.

Too late to do something that was boring, but at least paid well, and would give her any sense of security going into the real world, which was cruel. She hadn't realized at all how privileged she was until she got here, the age of eighteen, expected to decide what was next for her life and she didn't feel qualified to do so because she barely ever left her own house. She never had to fight. She never had to fret. She had everything she really wanted. She was lucky and yet all her privilege, all her luck, it was all just wasted as she couldn't even teach a group of ten-year-olds how to use a ruler to draw a straight line.

At the same time, how could anyone expect her to assess her own self-worth based on the actions of children?

Surely there was something more she could have done to get their focus back. To not lose them. She had so much knowledge deep inside about psychology, child psychology, educational psychology. She knew teaching methods out the wazoo. All of this knowledge was crammed into her young brain and yet… When she got in front of the kids… It all went away.

"You either have it or you don't."

Astra didn't have it. And she didn't know how to…. Get it. It was something that her colleagues couldn't tell her. Something her bosses couldn't help her with. It was something that the great Astra Kaminsky couldn't learn.

She always prided herself at being a fast learner. She could take information from a book and absorb it. Wordsmithing was a passion of hers, putting together thoughts in ways that made sense. And a love of art. Art was her life. She was always praised for her technical precision, her color theory, this… Gift, she was supposedly given. She was destined to use that gift, that was what everyone in her life said. She was always the artist. It was what she loved. She huffed and hawed at the people that pursued a job they weren't passionate about. But now, at the realization that she wasn't going to be able to hide at Mom and Dad's house forever and live off of her privilege forever.

And yet, she had to get out of there. She wasn't like them. She didn't have tough skin. She couldn't let the comments of kids roll off her back, let alone those of her own parents. Well, just one parent that ever even really made comments about her life…

Astra sighed as she felt the autumn breeze on her face. Dusk was falling, and she felt a certain amount of anxiety being out by herself. Everyone became a threat when the sun started going down. A hood to protect from the wind turned into a disguise for a robbery. An attack. Her heart beat a little faster being by herself out there, not even able to enjoy the outdoors. Too many bugs anyways.

She knew she would have to go home eventually, but she wasn't ready to go home. And yet, she somehow felt even less ready to see him.

"Better hope you marry a doctor."

Oh, but he was no doctor…

Every time Astra closed her eyes, she replayed the lesson in her mind. She watched the kids leaning over to talk to each other. She watched Zack breaking pencils, and other kids laughing. She took the pencils away, but he still managed to get one from someone else. Asking him to stop was useless. Sitting him away from others was what he wanted. And she was just blinded by frustration. Because while she was over there dealing with him, other kids on the other side of the room got distracted talking and crumpling their papers up. And then started the potty parade. But how could she say no?

They were kids. That was how kids acted. How did she expect them to behave with things put in their hands like this!?

…Other people did it. Others did it all the damn time. Others that knew more about the field, others that were perhaps more willing to learn, but between planning these stupid fucking lessons that never worked out anyways, when did she have the energy to try to learn a new classroom routine that would probably just be shrugged off like the rest of them?

What could she have done? Nobody gave her any answers. It comes with experience. It comes with knowing your kids. But there was no light at the end of the tunnel.

Every day Astra left the schoolroom feeling worse and worse and worse. But what choice did she have? This was the path she'd chosen for herself.

…She could do that factory work, like the poor kids in the District. But she wasn't strong like them. She didn't have tough skin like them. She wouldn't live ten seconds in that job, she'd be eaten alive. Then she would just be the poor man's job kid, while her brother and sister were making money, and maintaining the reputation of the family. This job was way more secure, made better money, and was looked upon more highly by the people she knew – and more importantly, her parents.

She felt the anxiety like a monster that took up her entire chest, leaving no room for her heart to keep beating. She could still breathe – but narrowly.

And her hands found their ways to the muffin top that hung over the elastic of her skirt. Did she gain another inch? Two? In her nutrition course she measured, and with it came the terrible realization that she was an inch short of being too fat. Oh she hated it. Maybe if she actually exercised she could deal with it. Then she would be at least skinny. Her arms and thighs jiggled when she stepped, she was so aware of it once she was holding her stomach.

She felt like a blob. Like a gelatinous waste of space. Did her kids notice the belly exposed by this shirt? It wasn't flattering. Maybe she felt cute this morning but now she knew better. She stood up taller, tried to suck it in, before releasing her stomach back into her hands. Her nails pushed into the softness and the bite of ten crescents made her feel a twisted satisfaction. Deeper. She can press them deeper. She can press them so deep and as long as she broke skin he would never know. She felt warmth. He won't know. Haha. None of them will know. The evidence disappears.

Deep breath, just to try to push the monster from taking ahold of her lungs.

She flipped her forearm, taking her pointer finger. To her it was as good as a knife. In fact, better, yes, better, in fact, because it gave her the satisfaction of red lines but in a way that was private. Better.

From the wrist to the crook of the elbow.

Again.

From the wrist to the crook of the elbow.

Her nail wasn't that long but it didn't need to be. It just needed to be a little sharp.

Again.

From the wrist to the crook of the elbow.

The wrist was where it hurt most. She dug her pointer finger into it for an extra moment, drawing out her pain in a way she could see. Then, THEN, maybe she would feel it.

This was a fool's game.

Everyone could do this. Most people did do this. She wasn't like the people that had a problem, that needed help. Not like the people that were actually brave enough to do it. She wished she could. She wished she could have scars that were raised. That were itchy. She thought about it a little bit. Back of the calves. No, hips.

Arms were too obvious. Her Mom would ask about a paper cut.

Legs would be out in the summer sun.

Inside of the thighs, but her research had shown that that area was more prone to bleeding, more dangerous than she was willing to risk.

Stomach was second place. Just because she hated it so much.

Astra blinked, another breath defied her anxiety by filling her lungs, and she let it out slowly. Well, as slowly as she could.

Then, she turned her arm, to view her creation. The art of her suffering. She wanted to suffer, in a way, just to feel like she had something to overcome. She didn't suffer like others suffered. She didn't deserve her privilege. This was her retribution for never being good enough.

She traced the warm imprints of crescents on her wrist, and rubbed the lines on her arm which still vaguely stung, but brought about that feeling of warmth. That was something nobody ever talked about. But Astra embraced the warmth. The warmth made her feel accomplished, the remaining stinging feeling a reminder of what she did. A reminder that maybe she wasn't a total pussy because at least she could take this much. Good.

From the wrist to the crook of the elbow.

Maybe someday she would finally open her skin. By accident.

But not today.

The gentle touch of her hand rubbing her arm brought about a slight feeling of relief to the surface. She suffered alone. She felt proud of what she created. She felt good. But she knew that if others knew, the wouldn't view it the same. They would worry. Or worse, they would see through her. Just begging for attention. For someone to care. If she was really doing this due to a true mental illness, she would actually self-harm and not care what other people thought about her. She would have real scars like people that actually had real battles to fight that weren't so catty.

If she really had a mental illness, she would actually starve herself. Not just think about it. She just wasn't strong enough to handle the fatigue of not eating, after an entire lifetime of never hungering. It made her dizzy and sick. She wasn't strong or brave enough to do that and suffer so much just to be thin.

She was fine. She was just a poser. She just saw other people with real mental illnesses and projected the symptoms onto herself. This was the way she proved to herself that it wasn't just a sham. Which in itself, was faking, but she pushed the thought away.

Gently, her shirt was rolled back over her arm. Pulled up just a little extra to cover the few crescents that were so delicately tucked into the fatty part of her palm. All set once again. She was fine.

He saw her coming and gently opened the door to not wake his parents. They knew that she would be over – she always was and it wasn't a secret – but they both had to get up early to go to work.

Astra never knew what it was to wake up so early for a full day of hard work. Sure, she put in extra hours outside of school, but it never felt like enough. Such was the job that she chose. It wasn't true suffering as she was lucky and privileged to even have it.

She looked at the time and realized she was a little late. But he didn't notice. He didn't ever notice the small things. There were so many things that she almost hoped he would notice. But he didn't. He just didn't know. He never handled anyone like her. He was so happy-go-lucky, he didn't understand. And when he wasn't happy, he kept it bottled in. He was never allowed to let it out, and now he still didn't allow himself to say how he really felt. About anything.

"Hey there." Jesse gave her a hug, happy to see her, and his arms wrapped around her stomach the way he caught her.

"Hi," Astra said, looking at her boyfriend.

"You look nice." He reached over to give her boob a playful squeeze. He was grinning at her but Astra looked away from him. She didn't like them because they were too small. All her friends were the opposite – and told her she was lucky, and usually she was glad for that, but in moments like this she didn't feel glad at all.

"Sure." She was curt and dismissive. She didn't know why. All it did was elicit a sigh from him.

"I'm right though." He really always tried to keep the mood up and smiled at her again, grabbing both of them. She liked it when he did that and for just a moment it made her feel like enough for him, before that feeling quickly faded away. She wasn't enough for him because she could barely make herself do anything even resembling a good girlfriend. She was depressed, she was emotional, she was lazy, she didn't do nearly the same for him that he did for her in literally any capacity, and she knew it.

"You're wrong." It was a natural response that easily left her lips without any hesitation. Unlike those girls that said that because they were fishing for compliments, she just believed it. All the same, it still felt like she was fishing a little bit when she said those things.

Jesse just sighed and his face fell. Brown eyes that were once so bright became… Darker, in a way she couldn't explain, but she just knew. He let go of her dejectedly and just looked at her for a moment. "You know I'm right." But he didn't really try to fight.

"I know you think that," she told him the truth. But she knew that it wasn't true.

"Bad day?" he asked finally, the lost look coming back into his eyes, he looked so helpless.

Look what you did to him. This is all your fault. And yet, at the same time she thought, Good. There was part of her that liked when he gave up. And the other half just felt worse.

"Yeah."

He could find someone better. Someone blonde. Someone with at least C's. Someone that's skinnier than me. He's amazing. He could have anyone he wants. He's cute. He's nice. He has way more friends than me. Everyone loves him. Why did he settle with me?

"Fuck them kids." He flopped down on the couch with an arm up on the top and Astra despite herself curled up under his arm.

She couldn't quite make herself cry in front of him. Girls were crazy, she didn't want to be that crazy high-maintenance girl. "I feel like there's something I'm missing."

"No, you're not missing anything. The people that call themselves your mentors should do their damn jobs."

"I shouldn't need to use someone else as a crutch," she said right away. She was always held to the highest expectation and she didn't know how to fail. She rolled over and gave up. Always.

"You're still learning."

"I'm a failure."

"Stop being mean to my girlfriend."

"Well she's earned a little tough love." Her nails found the soft tissue of her palms. He didn't notice.

"No, she hasn't." He was getting wound up. He was getting upset.

Look what you did to him. This is all your fault.

And yet…

Good. I like it when he gives up and leaves me alone. I deserve to be left alone.

"Astra…" he sighed a little bit, and his face said it all. "I don't know what to tell you. You know you're doing everything you can for those kids and they're being little shits. You know that your mentors aren't helping you at all. You know you're a damn good artist-"

"I'm a terrible artist." Her works were okay but they were nothing like a professional's. Why even keep trying when she knew that she would never get there? She just wasn't that determined to do it. She didn't want to be in school forever, perfecting her craft, and other people would.

"You know that's not true."

"I know what you think." Her hands wrapped around her stomach.

"Stop that." He pulled her hands off her stomach. Oh he was getting mad.

Look what you did to him. This is all your fault.

Good. I like it when he gives up and leaves me alone. I deserve to be left alone.

"Astra."

"Jesse." He hated it when she mocked him. But the things he was saying sounded completely stupid to her.

"Alright, fine. I'm heating you up dinner," he said finally, tugging on her hands.

"I don't want to eat."

"Well you're fucking eating." He was mad. She hated when he got mad like this. It was all her fault that he was in so much distress. He could find someone better.

"I'm not hungry." She really wasn't and just the thought of eating was repulsive to her.

"I don't care if you're hungry or not, you need to eat."

"I don't want to go to the kitchen."

"Well I'm not leaving you here," he said, giving her a fiery look. "To fuckin' do… God knows what to my girlfriend."

Oh, I've ruined his whole night. Look what you did.

Good.

A part of her hungered for the game they played. How fast could she get him to give up? How soon could she get him to walk her home so she could sit alone in her shower and make more art?

She was quiet, and didn't look at his face, as he dragged her to the kitchen and sat her down on a stool.

Part of her wished he'd notice when she clenched her fists.

The other, louder voice, was more than glad he didn't.

He put her dinner in the microwave. She didn't even know how to cook, really. Her Mom liked doing it for the family too much to force any of them to help. He had to do everything for her. She was really of no use to him.

He stopped the microwave before it dinged, opening the door and putting a plate in front of her that made her want to vomit.

"I don't want to eat this." She pushed. She always pushed with him.

"Well you have to eat something. So if not this, then what?"

"Nothing."

He harumphed into a chair next to her. He was so angry. He was so sad. He was so defeated.

Look what you did.

Good.

He took the fork as she was crossing her arms, feeling the warmth on her palms. He put the fork to her mouth and finally his anger fizzled away into desperation.

"Astra, please. For me."

And… She slowly unclenched. The guilt crept up when she saw the effort he was going to. Under his gaze she found herself dropping her hands. She didn't like it but… She hated to sneak around with this. Especially when she knew how much he loved her.

She opened her mouth and her eyes welled up with tears that had been long vacant from her eyes. She closed her mouth around the fork and he pulled it out with the food inside her lips, and she chewed as she sniffed a little bit once the tears started to flow.

Jesse patted at her cheek a little bit, the fork forgotten about when she started to cry, and she was absorbed into his strong arms, his warm embrace that was so familiar to her and just felt like home from the very first one they ever shared. His arm came up so he could press her face into his chest. As if on an instinct, Astra grabbed his shirt in her fists and the tears absorbed into his chest, making a wet spot of tears and snot. He didn't say anything, he just breathed. Sometimes it was just better that way. He didn't always know what to say, and sometimes it caused a lot of tension when times like this happened. But he was always there at the end of the day.

"What's wrong?" he asked her quietly.

"You could find someone better," she said, not wanting to really talk about it because she didn't know what she could possibly say that wasn't redundant. He was too good for her. She didn't know how she got so lucky to find him so easily at such a young age when people much better than her were still searching. Another privilege wasted on her and she just couldn't understand.

"Will you stop that?" he asked, before his voice grew, for once, quiet once more. "You're the one I want. There's nobody better than you because you are my favorite. Best woman."

Astra shook her head as the tears came back to her eyes but she didn't want to keep fighting him so she didn't protest. He was more stubborn than her most of the time, and it was a good thing.

He was so patient with her and he stood there for who knew how long, until she was the first to pull back, still not really looking at him.

"Do you feel at least a little better?" he asked, that hopeless look coming back across his face.

Astra took a deep breath, and a weight was lifted off of her chest just by his being there. "Yeah," she said honestly, and she looked at him – how he knew she meant that.

"Well then it was worth it." He took a deep breath himself, still obviously weighed down by her, and she knew it. He tapped the mashed potatoes with his finger a few times, which had grown somewhat of a crust on them from sitting out and were room temperature at best. "I'll have to heat this up. Unless you want a grilled cheese."

Astra bit her lip, not wanting to make him do more effort and dirty more dishes on her behalf, but he was looking at her and bounced his eyebrows.

"You want a grilled cheese?" he asked, watching her and raising an eyebrow.

Astra did want a grilled cheese. Before she could even nod, he was turned away again, crouching down to get a pan out of the bottom console and going to the fridge to find the bread and cheese – and of course, the jar of pickles to go along with the sandwich. Like it wasn't late at night, like he didn't have to work tomorrow, like it was actually worthwhile to put in all this effort for her.

She never knew how to react to it.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"What?" he asked, obviously having heard her, but giving her a chance to correct herself.

Astra always hated disappointing him. So she put down her head again. There was so much she wanted to say to him.

Go find someone better.

You could solve so many problems without me.

You would do so much better without me weighing out down literally all the time.

I wish I had any energy to be better for you.

You deserve someone BETTER.

But when his brown eyes met hers, and his eyebrows went up (she loved his eyebrows), and his lip turned up just a little bit at her, she couldn't help that warmth in her body and she managed to smile back at him as she took a tissue and blew her nose again.

"Um, I said…" She sighed. "Thank you."

He put the sandwich on the pan gently, taking great care that it wouldn't accidentally get thrown askew by being reckless. He wasn't always the best with his words, but he cared more about her than anyone she'd ever met to date. She still was figuring out how to reckon with that.

"I loooooooove you," he said mildly, turning back to the sandwich.

He must be drowning.

You ruined his chance at a beautiful girlfriend.

She stared at the ground, trying to just be strong for a second.

For him.

"I love you too."

~.~.

The tension was palpable in the room.

It was like a string was pulling her heart upwards toward her throat as she looked between her siblings as they were eating their meat and potatoes. She could see the worry on Mom's face.

All she really wanted was to be with Jesse tonight, he was the one that could actually calm her worries even a little bit. Being here… It made her feel even worse. But Jesse wasn't allowed over for big dinners like this one. Because he wasn't family. Well… He was family to Astra, but her parents didn't see him that way. She didn't know what she or he would even have to do to change that.

"Have some meat with your potatoes," Mom said to Duncan who was focused on scooping up as much gravy as he could in his spoon along with his potatoes. The potatoes were naught but a vessel. "You just have to be careful," she said, looking at the two of them with her brows furrowed, hazel eyes containing fear and sadness.

Astra nodded and put her head down as the lump pushed up at her throat.

"Ah, we're always careful," said Duncan, as Astra could feel a sting in her eyes that was all too familiar. She tried to take a smooth breath to push the tears away. She didn't break down in front of them. The truth was that they could be as careful as they wanted, they had no control over what was going to happen tomorrow.

"To the Square, and straight back, no diddling around out there," she said. "Downtown can be dangerous. You have to stay together. Don't make eye contact with anyone, just push your way through. You know Dad and I aren't going to be able to make it all the way there with you."

"I know," Astra said, resisting her voice wanting to crack as she felt a shallow puddle blurring her vision and stared at her meal, feeling a strong aversion to eating it. Eating all this meat and potatoes was only contributing to her whole stomach thing. Look at her Mom. She looked just like her and was terrified of putting on too much weight and not being able to stop it.

She knew that was how it was – her Dad wasn't going to be able to move with the traffic of the crowd without causing a major inconvenience, and it was just so much more stressful with him in tow to get anywhere when the District was so densely populated with people. But there was still something in her that felt so alone walking there without them – even if she had Jesse or Duncan… Sometimes she just wanted them there, especially when it was possible their time together would be limited. She was just so scared of the reapings.

Sure, their District had a few Victors, but those were people that knew suffering. People with grit who already knew what it was to fight, and survive. Astra wasn't a survivor of anything. She didn't earn her way to a happy ending yet, not like all those other people her age. She didn't earn anything, she was given way too much.

"Okay, I'm done," said Duncan, who had already devoured his food (and drank up the rest of the gravy that was left). He pushed his plate into the table and didn't say anything else before he got up and walked out, back to his room to get back to his video games. That left Astra with her parents, slowly spooning food into her mouth that she didn't want to eat.

"Have you talked to your sister lately? Asked mom, and Astra just shrugged.

"A little." But they talked somewhat frequently. Astra had heard about this new boy she was seeing – and sworn to keep that quiet for now to keep any freak-outs from happening. It was the agreement they had with each other.

"She was telling me about her thesis," said Mom, looking at Dad who was just sitting there, holding his fork with a strange-looking grip as he was starting to lose feeling in his hands too. "Oh, and about this new tennis league she's looking into. I guess she's playing doubles with someone her age."

"Yeah, I heard a little," said Astra, but she just put her head down because she just didn't know how Steph did it – or really, anything. Astra just didn't have the energy to do anything anymore.

"Great things," said Mom. "So how did your lesson go?"

Astra shrugged. "Reaping day tomorrow puts everyone in a weird mood," she said quietly, but her voice started to shake a little bit, despite how hard she tried. She wasn't resilient like them. She wasn't strong like them, she didn't know how anyone possibly held in their tears with any degree of success. She just couldn't.

"Oh, don't cry about it," said Mom with a small laugh. She was trying to be sympathetic but it just made her feel worse.

"It's fine, I'm just thinking about it," Astra said. "Jesse too."

"As long as you and Duncan come home to us, we'll be happy," said Mom, and she meant it. Astra could see the deep-rooted fear in her Mother's eyes, but Mom held it all back. "It's your last year and then you're done."

"I know," Astra said.

Dad patted the table a little bit before he spoke, as if to remind them he was still there. "You'll be okay, Astra. But I- I do see how that would be…" he stopped, having to think before finding his word. "A little… Stressful."

Mom just let him think instead of providing the word, as she told the kids to do the same. Let him think about it, make him use his brain. It was all the medications he was on that gave him that brain fog sometimes, but it was still a little scary when Astra thought about it too much.

"Yeah," said Astra.

"You should get back into painting," said Mom, really trying. "You were given a gift, you know. I just don't want to see it go to waste."

"Maybe," said Astra, before taking a deep breath again to swallow down the tears – it was much easier after Mom laughed about it, that was for sure. "I think I just need to clear my head."

"And call Jesse," said mom with a teasing tone as she got up and immediately started putting dishes in the sink. Astra jumped up quickly – not wanting her to get annoyed about Astra sitting still and watching her work without helping. She was lazy sometimes, she knew that. So she quickly helped put the dishes in the sink while Mom got to rinsing them. Astra opened the dishwasher for her, and took her Dad's, careful not to spill the gravy as she started stacking them up.

"Thanks Astra," Mom said as she was rinsing. "Go on now."

She was glad to be excused, going to her room and pacing around a little bit. She just hated reaping days – she hated crowds, she hated waiting in lines, she hated being by herself because she didn't have any friends that were girls that were her age… She hated the anxiety that she wouldn't be able to find her way back to her parents at the end, and stressed about their meeting spot. She hated being by herself because she didn't feel competent enough to do it all.

And yet, every year, somehow, it happened. When she was younger Steph was there to help retrieve her first. But after she aged out of the reaping, Astra was even more alone. She sometimes found someone friendly to walk with, but she never liked entertaining them.

And of course, there was after the reaping. Another family only day that left Astra missing a big part of her family as Jesse would be barred from coming. She always felt for whoever was drawn from the bowl. She hated watching the kids cry and scream when they got picked because it broke her heart. She always put herself in those shoes, trying to feel what they felt, and why? It only ever made her feel worse. And when her parents and brother went on to act as if nothing had happened because it didn't personally affect them, Astra felt more lost. Everything personally affected her, and if she tried to turn her back like they did, she was just consumed with guilt. If it were her, would she want everyone to turn their backs?

And then there was always the escort talk. Of course she would judge their outfit, their hair, their skin. Even when Astra kind of liked some of it. Some, of course… She would judge the way they talked, how they composed themselves, if they stumbled on words, everything they said and did would be recounted, but with the judgmental eye. And if Mom judged an escort like that, Astra could only imagine how she was judging her own kids. She heard it most of the time.

She retired to her room and felt anxiety clawing at her throat like a feral cat. Not even all of her nice things, the collection of stuffed animals or the paintings on the walls, could console her. They never really did.

The tears started to overflow but she had to bite her tongue to keep them quiet. She didn't want their attention on her. She knew that Mom would try to help, but she wasn't good at it. And Duncan… Who knew, he would probably just laugh.

She pulled up her phone, sending Jesse a text quickly and then putting her face in her pillow, feeling the tears seeping into the fabric and leaving warm marks on it. She didn't sob, she didn't scream, she didn't make a sound. She pulled a warm blanket around herself to feel some form of comfort. No response. He must be on a video game himself. He never really texted back when he was distracted with something else. And why would he?

The tears that touched her cheek brought with them a little sting as she made eye contact with her easel that had been packed away, placed in her closet. She tried to keep making art, but she couldn't do it anymore. Every time she sat down to do it she couldn't help but think about her failed lessons. The kids. Art didn't make her happy anymore, it just made her nervous. The prospect that she would never be perfect at art, that she would never reach her personal threshold of good enough, made it something that made her feel upset. She was never happy anymore with what she produced – either it was something so easy it was boring, or it would cause her to spiral worse. Art. Paint. Splayed paintbrushes that kids were mashing while she was asking them, practically begging them to not abuse the equipment. Messes and stains that were made on purpose, for laughs. While she was showing one kid who actually wanted to do it right, another kid knocked over the water cup at the table and now she had three angry kids that were crying that their pieces were ruined. Just a few of the bad eggs just ruined everything and she didn't know how other teachers could even start to deal with it.

She turned away from the easel. She wanted to get rid of it and not have to look at it anymore. Give it to someone that actually wanted to use it.

Instead, she was reaching under the pillow. Fuck art. She hated art now. All her passion for doing it was just wiped away. Art used to be who she was. Now it was practically nothing to her. Worse than nothing.

Maybe she was kind of good at it once, but she would never even get close to professionals so why even bother trying? Time and effort she didn't have the energy for. She was just trying to get her ass to the next day.

Goddammit. It was because she was weak.

She reached under her pillow instead.

And out came her new best friend.

Rubber band.

It was beautiful.

Rubber band was easy to access.

Rubber band snapped and hurt just right. More than the nails. Because with the nails, it was more prolonged to the point that after a while the pain would just fizzle out, replaced with that warm feeling, until she pushed harder.

Rubber band still left warmth.

And the red lines left by rubber band were better than her nails could ever leave. It was so much easier.

snap

She felt… Something akin to happiness. It wasn't really happiness. Maybe it was just that warm satisfaction. Validating her own pain.

Move the band up the arm.

Snap on each side, and of course in the middle.

snap

It took a little bit for the lines to really appear. That was part of the fun of it, if you would call it fun. It wasn't fun for her – maybe a piece of the back of her mind thought that. But she would keep snapping until the redness took shape.

Roll it up.

snap

Roll it down.

snap

Wait. Find an opening. Move to the opening. Adjust one way or the other.

snap

She wanted to hurt more. So she went back to the wrist. That hurt the most.

snap

She rubbed her arm for a second, watching the pattern of red lines take shape across her pale skin.

Yes.

snap

She heard footsteps and stopped, but she wasn't afraid. None of them were going to come looking for her. Nobody was coming to check on her here. It wasn't like when she stayed with Jesse. She could get away with whatever she wanted here. And honestly, when Jesse was playing a game or watching something, she could get away with it around him too. She could and she had. The time for feeling bad about it would never come because the patterns of red faded before anyone could even see them.

snap

She heard that you could bruise if you snapped enough. Each time she thought maybe this would be the time. But she couldn't get the purple hues out of her skin as it was now. Even she had to tap out sometime. She wasn't as strong as them or as brave as to do it that much. She was just an attention-seeking fuck.

She checked her phone again, her heart desperate to hear back from Jesse. But nothing. She wasn't going to be that high maintenance girl that called while hew as at home with his own family. She didn't even want to be the one that double texted. She wasn't like those other crazy girls. She was good low-maintenance girlfriend.

But she wasn't really, she was fucking crazy. And he could do better.

She rolled the band off of her left onto her right. She rolled it a few times. Just the tightness of it was enough to make her wrist sting just a little bit. She flipped her wrist over. She liked to make her art on the insides of her forearms but if she wasn't satisfied she would do the tops too.

snap

Who was going to stop her? She hoped someone would, and at the same time was terrified of that and didn't truly want it all. She wanted someone to care, but she knew that it would upset them – and in Jesse's case, anger them. That was terrifying to watch and she hated just the thought.

snap

Thankfully it didn't matter. She was by herself and could do whatever she wanted to. If she wanted to find a plastic butter knife in here by all means she could. Who was there to stop her?

But no. She had to be careful. She wasn't brave enough to do anything that would last, solely for the reason that it would make Jesse lose his damn mind. And ship her ass right off to the psych hospital and she didn't need that to reflect poorly on her family and make her mother worry more and upset her siblings. She didn't have time for that right now and she didn't need it. She had control. This was how she reminded herself about that.

snap

Roll it up.

snap

Roll it down.

snap

Wait. Find an opening. Move to the opening. Adjust one way or the other.

snap

She could be reaped tomorrow.

She would die on the first day.

She didn't even know who she was.

She was weak.

She deserved to be reaped, but she wouldn't because she always was safe even though there were others that deserved that safety far more. And she would just stand there and watch them like the useless fuck she was.

She wasn't sure if she was more afraid of the reaping itself or the day of stress on herself and her family. The mood that Mom would be in through the whole day afterwards, even though everything was fine now, and trying to figure out how to end it when really there was no way to do so. The walks without her parents, without her sister, without her brother, without Jesse, having to fend for herself when she hated even the thought of that.

She wasn't sure what she was afraid of, she didn't know how she felt, she barely even knew who she was. Except for a fucking spoiled princess. An attention-seeker. A shit girlfriend and a shit daughter and a shit teacher.

It was all happening around her so fast and she didn't know what to do.

She checked her phone. No message. Not even read.

What could she even do? She didn't know. So she just did what she knew she could do.

Back to the wrist.

snap

snap

~.~.

A/N: Don't call the cops.

Next chapter – We meet District Four's Antigone Rodriguez, waving through a window.