☞︎ℍ𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤 ~ 𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕪𝕤𝕥'𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 ☜︎

Extra: Oakley

picture is just something I made with a bunch of quotes from the story! should it replace the old cover?

"Aspen, no! Don't go!" My husband looks back at me, sympathy filling his green eyes. One of his hands is occupied by Asha's, and she too stares up at me, looking scared and confused. 

"It will be better for all of us," he says, pulling slightly on my hand, which is gripped tightly around his wrist. I don't want to let him go, but I know I have to. 

"Mom? What's happening?" Asha asks, her voice small, matching her demeanor. I look down at her, then kneel down and take her face in my hands. She has her father's eyes. 

"It'll be okay, honey," I whisper, tears dripping unwillingly down my cheeks. And yet I don't believe it myself. She's only ten; much too young to go venturing out into the woods. She'll have Aspen, but still...

I release Aspen's wrist, standing up and pecking his cheek lightly. He smiles at me, grateful that I haven't made a scene in front of our daughter. Neither of us want her to be afraid. 

A noise from the door makes us all turn. "Mom?" Amethysts asks, I rush over to her, pulling her to my side in a tight hug. I don't want her running after her father. 

"Shh, honey, it will be okay. They'll be back before you know it."

Asha buries her face into Aspen's shirt, tears running down her face and muffled sobs escaping from her small frame. He takes a step out away from the house, and she stands her ground. "Wait."

My ten-year-old daughter steps away from her father, walking over to her little sister, Amethyst. She hugs her tightly, still crying hard. 

"I love you, gemstone," she says, hiccuping. "I'll never forget you." 

My heart swells to the size of a hot air balloon. I love both of my daughters so much, and I hope they'll return soon. 

"See you soon?" I ask Aspen hopefully, as Asha returns to his side. 

He nods, granting me with a hint of that sweet smile I've grown to love. "Soon."

-o-

I've always loved my daughter. I always will love her. But hearing the announcer, Gloriana, announce her name almost broke my limits. I saw her walk up to the podium, her body stiff. If I could volunteer for her, I would. But I can't, and it seems like no one else wants to, either. 

When she reaches the top, she scans the crowd. Somehow, I know she's looking for me. Her mother. The mother she hates. A tear slips down my cheek, only one. I hold in the others. Inside, I'm collapsing into a puddle of my own tears. Why did this have to happen now? When we were fighting, when she's still holding a grudge, when my daughter who hates me is about to be brutally murdered?

I look away, wanting for all the world to run out of the square. I'm sure the camera will be finding me soon. If Amethyst makes it to the final eight, I'll be interviewed. And I know it will be torture. But I hope it happens, because I want her alive and home. I want my daughter back. 

They call the boy, but I don't register much about him other than that he looks mature for his age, yet still much too young to be in the arena. Sixteen, at the most. Not even an adult yet. 

I think about what would've happened to me if I was chosen. Me, a poor girl with a drunk father and a frail mother, laying on her deathbed. Me, who would have barely anything to come back to. I can't imagine what Amethyst must be going through, the terror and pain of knowing you have to kill innocents or be killed yourself. I know she can get through it; she's stronger than even she knows, but... she'll never be the same. I know that much. 

***

"So, how are you feeling tonight, Oakley Greenwood?" Caesar Flickerman's voice is overexcited and edited, most likely by him, to be perfect. All these capitol citizens think that perfect is good. They think that being beautiful--by their odd standards--is all good. I can imagine being one of them, hoping that someone will notice them, will think their red eyes or green skin is attractive and like them. No matter what it seems, I know that feeling. That feeling of wanting approval, of someone, even someone you hate, to like you. 

"Good," I say, though my voice is shaky and I'm sure my smile is too. My dress is fancy and much nicer than anything I ever thought I would wear. It sparkles in the bright stage lights, the green fabrics looking like a churning sea of poison. My hands fidget in my lap, sweaty in the summer warmth of the studio. 

In front of me, two screens show my uneasy frame, and my dear daughter in the games. Right now she's sleeping beneath some sort of boulder, her head tilted slightly to the side and her expression peaceful. They hold these interviews at night for a reason: so nothing interesting happens in the arena while we're talking. And yet I can't keep my eyes off the screen, only looking over at Caesar when he speaks again. 

"Happy for your daughter? That she made it to the final eight?" He smiles widely, showing off his too-bright, perfect whitened teeth. His hair is crimson red, giving the disturbing illusion that he's bleeding. The effect makes me shiver, thinking of Amethyst, who is actually covered in blood, a wound bleeding from her shoulder and leg.

"Yes, of course. I'm so proud of her." In the camera, my own smile looks flimsy by comparison. My teeth are oddly shaped, the front two larger than the others and some of them tilted sideways. I've never thought it was that weird, but I guess in the capitol, where everyone has access to plastic surgery or healthcare at all, and dentists, there's high standards. 

here is where the chapter ends! i'm so sorry that there's not more but this was written more than a year ago and honestly i've got no idea how to continue it. enjoy this little bittt i guess <3