hyacinth mortuus {d12 - fin}

[Python]

"python making a d12??" -NY times

"Sensational" - Time Magazine

"YOU'RE GOOD AT WRITING PROSTITUTES" - Zoe, HGRPG

[Python]

hyacinth.

I'm honest when I promise Eirlys, "My hands are the steadiest in the District."

There is no reason to lie when I smile at Celia and say, "I love your hair." She is my other half, I could never taste a lie in her presence.

When Annabelle bakes sweets for our withering patients, my words don't tremble when I remark, "Good idea, they smell delicious."

The truth tastes of bravery and sugar.

Olive is young and oblivious. "I just remove the organs," I assure him.

Lying is a sinful art, especially when you lie to angels.

Avery is the youngest; a flower blooming through the coldest winter and hottest summer. I have to smile with white teeth and small lips, and brighten my bone pale features to convince her that when I look her in the eyes - speckled brown like a rare piece of chocolate - I am telling the truth. In reality, I lie to the young ones through every microscopic pore on my body. "We do everything for the greater good," I say. That same day I draw incisions on dead flesh with my scalpel. I transform former patients into gore, and sell their bits and pieces to those who can't abide by the law. They ship organs to other districts and capitol citizens for a profit, and my family sits on a piece of that wealth. Our connections were sewn together long ago, and remain as strong as sutures I use to hide empty vessels.

We are not the guardian angels our patients think we are.

Mortuus Medical Center is our legacy. Our family is large because our legacy needs heartbeats and hands. Survival beyond youth isn't easy here. We solved that problem within our family ages ago, but at the expense of our gentlest patients. The slower their hearts beat, the more eagerly we await to report their time of death (or bring them into the basement to offer them a disguised poison). We steal what would otherwise be left to rot, and sell as much as we can. It's black market money, and once you've been stained you can't wash it out.

Luckily, nobody cares enough to check corpses. Graveyards are much too crowded and disorganized.

We sit on dirty money like it's a throne. This business is all we've known, but we also know the label "criminal" is branded on our backs for life. Discovery would lead our entire family to whippings, public execution, or exile to the Capitol, where Avoxes are rumored to be chained and speechless for the rest of their miserable lives.

I will sacrifice anything to prevent that.

The law is as corrupted as the citizens under its rule. The white pawns - our "protectors" and our oppressors, the Peacekeepers - are not always as pure as their white uniforms suggest. There are girls and boys who offer their bodies to them in exchange for food, money, and other essential resources. I do it to cover our tracks. Over and over they have brought our criminal record to my attention, and I decideded to seal their lips once and for all. If it means spreading my legs for their pleasure, so be it.

I'm a good liar anyway. "Yes, you are my favorite," I say sweetly. It's fun to see them believe in that false hope, even for a moment before they wake up from their fantasy worlds. Not all of them behave in such a way; there are those who want me, have me, then contently move on with their lives until the next time. The quiet ones, I call them. I like them.

The young ones - olive and avery - can't know, not yet. The lies grow thicker on my tongue each day, but I'll have to tell them. One day they'll be too clever to hide from. I'm sorry.

I wish everything I did was for the greater good.

I know what we do is immoral. I know there are a million reasons to despise my secrets. Sometimes, I take the time to despise myself because nobody else will. I disrespect bodies and ruin my own just to keep our legacy stable and safeguarded. It's selfish, yes, but we can't just stop. We're in no shape to end such a crucial influx of profit. We aren't prepared to face true poverty and crippling starvation.

We won't lower ourselves to that level. It's survival of the fittest. Does that make us terrible?

Maybe.

[Python]

Done!

[arx]

I stand by Zoe's comment<33
[googlefont="Euphoria Script:400"]Accepted!