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･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
"Hey," Johanna perched up at the familiar click and voice coming from the wall. She was fast this year. "I'll be honest. I don't really know what to say and I hope that's okay. I wanted to call you to apologize, but I don't have the words to express how sorry I am." Don't know what to say my ass, but Johanna listened anyway, finding it hard to cling to the bitter part of herself. "I shouldn't have even begun what I was going to say, even if I didn't mean to blame you. I did, and I'm so sorry. It isn't your fault, I know you know that. It never was and it never will be, Johanna. I was wrong to say it, to say anything about it, really. I'm sorry, I really am." There was a pause and Johanna let the words sink in. She hadn't realized how much she'd wanted an apology, even if she'd done worse things. "Please call me back if you heard this. I'd like to tell you this again when I know you're listening. You have every right to be upset, but if you want to talk about it some day, I'll be waiting. Promise."
There was another click that echoed through the room for a moment. It was hard to shake her words. Johanna stood, the empty house suddenly feeling too quiet. The late summer was still hot so Johanna didn't bother putting on a jacket. She headed straight to the woods. They were for working, but it wasn't guarded well enough to stop people from getting in anyway. She doubted they would care if they knew; the only thing people could find there were trees and rotting leaves. It was the only place the Hunger Games hadn't tainted.
She'd worked there, before she didn't have to anymore. Before people looked at her funnily. Before everything got taken. It's where she'd gotten her strength and her skill, but it was more than that. It was the only place she was far enough away from everything to find peace.
There was no emptiness between the rows of trees. There was life everywhere, birds singing, plants growing, bugs walking. For a moment, she could forget how fucked everything is and simply be.
She had no goal in mind except forget Odette. Forget her voice, her apology, every kind word she had ever whispered. Each year she tried, but the girl was persistent. No matter how horribly Johanna treated her, Odette still ended up in her arms with a smile. she still filled her empty house with stories about nothing and sweet words. Of course she wouldn't try forever, and the weekly calls turned into monthly. When they did, Johanna missed her voice.
The dirt didn't cling to her shoes or bend beneath her. It had been dry for weeks and the only small river was dry. It happened yearly, and the bushes were turning brown. The trees would soon follow, except for the pines. They stood tall all year round. They were Johanna's favorite.
They were farthest from district seven, the rows less neat because there was no harvesting there. She could only now see their trunks, but their smell was vast. Johanna felt lighter already.
