Tabitha Laise: District 9

[Rosetta]

You’re walking down a long, dim corridor. Doors line the walls, and a tiny light flickers up ahead. Your feet echo along the linoleum. Without warning, you turn, opening a door, and go inside. The door closes and locks with a click behind you. You’re in a large dark room, a single light bulb swinging over head. Filing cabinets fill the majority of the room, and you walk over to one. Opening it, you discover several manila folders. You flip through them until you find a particularly full folder. Fishing it out, you open it.
On top, there’s a birth certificate.

Name: Tabitha Joan Laise
Born to: Jane Anderson and Steven Laise
On: April 16th, year of the 44th Hunger Games.
District: 9
Weight: 4 pounds.

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Attached to it is a little post-it note. In barely legible writing it says:
Pre-mature, not expected to survive.[/font]

After the birth certificate is a recent picture of Tabitha.

On the back, there are a couple things written down:
Tabitha Laise
Age 15
District 9

You slowly but surely turn the picture back over. Tabitha stares back at you. Below that picture is another, and another. You look at each one of them, and are transfixed upon this girl. You find yourself studying her appearance.

Tabitha is generally a small girl. Short for her age, only at 4 feet and 10 inches, she’s also extremely thin. She has the look of a malnourished child, although that is far from the case. Her arms and legs resemble thin tubes, with pale hair growing along them. Still upholding her childish figure, lacking all curves, as expected, Tabitha sports knobby knees and scabby elbows. Her skin is extremely pale, blue veins shining through on her wrists. Rather than tan in the sun, Tabitha burns. Sunburns that appear almost permanent stretch over her face, arms and legs. The skin peels, rather grotesquely, on her cheeks, in thin white layers, as if she’s molting. Her fingers are long and thin, with dirty fingernails, and calluses. Her feet are also small and callused, but are swelled from running. Blisters burst up between her toes, and athlete’s foot is not uncommon. Her legs suffer from several cuts, scrapes and bruises from falling.

On her slim neck is Tabitha’s round head, but with a long chin. Over her chin, Tabitha’s pink lips rest. They’re full, the bottom lip quite a bit fuller than the top lip, which is still large as well. Her teeth are white, but have gaps, and are oddly round at the bottoms, with ridges. Above her lips, closer than usual, is Tabitha’s rather small nose. A bit scrunched up, and up-turned, Tabitha’s nostrils are large and flaring. The bridge of her nose is thin, and may have a pimple or two. Finally, you come upon her eyes. They’re extremely tiny and round, with heavy bags underneath, and clear blue. Her eyes are veiled by thin eyelashes, with thin eyebrows over them. Her forehead isn’t particularly long nor short, merely average.

You study her hair. It’s thin, and blonde, with lighter steaks framing her face. The hair is wavy, falling down a little past her shoulders. Because it is so thin, you guess it must be easy to pull into a ponytail or the occasional braid. Tabitha’s clothes are suitable for running, with durable sneakers, sweatpants, and a t-shirt, with a sweatshirt tied securely around her waist.

You put the picture behind the piles of papers, and come to a tape recorder, taped onto the folder. No wonder it was so heavy. Written on it is: Conversation with Jane Anderson and Tabitha’s teacher, Ian Clemments. You turn it on, and realize they must be talking about Tabitha's personality[/size][/color]

(There’s the sound of shuffling, a door opening and closing, and then the scraping of two chairs)
Mr. Clemments: (He has a deep, good-natured voice.) Good afternoon, Mrs. Anderson. Thank you for coming in today.

Mrs. Anderson: (Her voice is high, light and slightly worried) You’re welcome, Mr. Clemments, but may I ask, what is this all about?

Mr. Clemments: (his voice suddenly changes to a more brisk tone) It’s about Tabitha, her behavior.

Mrs. Anderson: (quickly) She hasn’t been acting up, has she?

Mr. Clemments: (Just as quick) No, no, of course not. Not badly, I mean. She’s incredibly bright, did you know? She picks up things faster than any of my other students. I’ve yet to see her fail a test. One of my highest students, she is. She works extremely hard.

Mrs. Anderson: (eagerly) Yes, she’s always been determined. She was pre-mature, the doctors said she wouldn’t live, but my little Tabby, she pulled through. When she can’t do something, she keeps trying until she can. She never gives up, it’s quite admirable. She’s so clever simply because if she doesn’t understand something, she studies and studies it until she does. Sometimes (laughs), I have to tell her to stop studying and go to bed. Of course, the sun may rise, and I’ll still find her up, working on that last math problem, or reading a history chapter. She has a sort of refusal not to fail, do you know what I mean?

Mr. Clemments: Of course, Mrs. Anderson, I see it often in her. She is a bit impatient though, I’ve noticed. She doesn’t like not knowing things, and getting things wrong, so I suppose that’s why she’s so determined not to be. However, she can be quite unreasonable, when she can’t seem to get something. We’ve had a few shouting matches in class, nothing too serious. She’s always looking for shortcuts, I’ve noticed. She doesn’t like things that take a long time.

Mrs. Anderson: Is that’s what you’d like to talk about? Her impatience? I’ll talk to her about it if you’d like.

Mr. Clemments: (hastily) No, no that’s not it. It’s about…well, she seems a bit paranoid.

Mrs. Anderson: Paranoid? What do you mean?

Mr. Clemments: Well, she can never seem to sit still, always glancing around, always looking nervous. She jumps whenever I call on her, and one time someone came into the room and she particularly leapt out of her seat. She’s always wringing her hands, licking her lips…she has these ticks, you see.

Mrs. Anderson: But, that must be just because she’s restless, yes?

Mr. Clemments: No, she seems afraid of everything. Mostly people, I mean. She looks frightened when someone asks her question, and as soon as the bell rings, she runs right out of the room. She steers clear of the other kids, and doesn’t talk to them. I assumed she’s just shy, and yes, she is extremely shy, but there’s something else. She’s afraid of something.

Mrs. Anderson: I’ve never quite seen that side of her. She doesn’t talk much at home, but she isn’t really the talking type. She prefers to remain quiet, and respectful. My sister Jillian is a big help around the house, and they’re quite close, but Tabby doesn’t even open up to her. But, I think that’s because Jillian recently moved out. She likes to run, did you know that?

Mr. Clemments: No, I didn’t.

Mrs. Anderson: She loves running more than anything. She runs in the mornings before school, after school, on the weekends, anytime, you name it. She never liked physical exercise until she was about eleven. Then she just took off. She goes through shoes too fast for me to buy new ones or make new ones. Then she just runs barefoot. She lets nothing get in the way of running.

Mr. Clemments: Well, we do have a track team here. Perhaps she’d like to join? Maybe it would help her be more amiable around the others?

Mrs. Anderson: I appreciate your efforts, Mr. Clemments, but I don’t think Tabby would like that. She likes to keep to herself. She doesn’t like to be distracted. Besides, I don’t think the other kids would like her running with them anyway. She can get quite filthy, spraying dirt all over the place. She’s never had a care for clothes, or the state of herself, for that matter. She is a bit sloppy, may I say. Perhaps it just comes from her rush to get things done.

Mr. Clemments: You’re probably right, Mrs. Anderson. Now, I must head to a meeting. Thank you so much for your time, and I hope this talk with help us better understand Tabitha.

Mrs. Anderson: (laughs) As her mother, I hope so too. Thank you, Mr. Clemments.

The recording ends here. However, you are not quite done yet. There are still more papers, most likely having to do with Tabitha’s past or her history.[/b] You read the first one, and realize it is a letter from Jane Anderson to her friend, Dotty:
Dear Dotty,
I apologize that I cannot come and see you myself. Things have been quite hectic here, and since Tabitha was only born two weeks ago, and we’ve just been released from the hospital, the two of us have been ordered to bed rest. I wish you could see her. She’s so tiny! She was born about a month pre-mature, and they thought she wouldn’t have survived. But, she made it through one night, and then the next, and the one after that. The doctors told me they’ve never seen a stronger child. I’m overjoyed as you can tell, but of course…I’m still quite sad about other things.

I’m sure you’ve heard the gossip. Steven took off, taking George with him. My son, only two, too young to be caught up in all this. He left the night about Tabitha was born, and moved in with his girlfriend across town. Apparently she likes kids, but not weak ones. I miss George so much. My sister, Jillian, who’s been helping me out, went yesterday to try and see what could be done, but he slammed the door in her face. However, not before he gave her papers from the Justice Building. If I sign them, I keep Tabitha and he keeps George. If I don’t, he gets both children. Do you understand my dilemma here?

We’re struggling money-wise. I can barely pay for the apartment anymore, and with Steven gone, I’m going to have to work overtime, but luckily Jillian has offered to care for Tabitha when I’m not around. Bless her. I don’t think any of us will go hungry, but things will be hard.

Tabitha’s crying, so I should be off now and see what’s wrong. Please write back!
Love,
Jane

Under that is a diary entry written by Tabitha. It’s dated three years ago:

Dear Diary,
I don’t understand why she didn’t tell. I have a brother. He’s two years older than me, and named George. He was quite rude when I ran into him today at school. He knew about me, you see. I didn’t know about him. He insisted I was his little sister, and I freaked out and left…I asked my mom and she told me the truth: I have a father. He’s alive! My name is Tabitha Laise on my birth certificate, but mother says my last name is Anderson. Laise must be my father’s name. But he left after I was born. Probably because of what I am. They call me a “pre-me” at school, and tease me for it. I think that it’s something to be proud of, because I survived, I made it. Anyway, I’m just angry, I guess. I just don’t get why she’d keep this from me. I love Aunt Jill, but I’d much rather a father…but, I’ve never met him and chances are I never will. George won’t tell me where he lives…
-Tabby

There’s yet another diary entry, dated two years ago, making Tabitha eleven years old:

Dear Diary,
You won’t believe what happened tonight! I’m still shaking. Aunt Jill sent me out on an errand to get some fabric for new clothes for me, although she knows we’re running low on money. I got the fabric, and then decided to take the shortcut through the back alleys. It all went well…until, well, the sun started going down. The sky was all red, and you know, well I like sunsets. So, I stopped, and watched the sun go down past the buildings. Big mistake. I should’ve left. But I didn’t. I waited until it got dark, and continued all the alleys. I heard a sound up ahead…pleading, crying and the sound of something being hit. Startled, I squinted through the darkness, and saw them. A Peacekeeper and a girl. He was beating her, and she was pleading. But it didn’t matter. She died anyway. It tried to stay quiet, but I was so scared, frozen to the spot. I don’t why he did it. I knew I’d come at the wrong time. I tried to leave before he saw me.

That’s when he grabbed me. One hand covered my mouth, the other held me around the waist. If there’s something I’ll always remember, it won’t be his sour breath, or his warm, bloodied hands, nor his amused eyes…it’ll be his voice, and what he said. “You didn’t see anything, did you, missy?” I hastily shook my head, but he didn’t release me just yet. I was terrified, I thought he was going to kill me too. But he didn’t. His voice, which was gruff, and sharp, whispered to me. “I’ll be watching you.” And then he let me go. I ran all the way home.

I’m scared. That’s really all I can say. I wish I’d gotten away quicker. I wonder if he’ll actually be watching me. I’ll run. I’ll always run. I’ll train myself in running, so I can get away faster if I need to. And I’ll never stop until I lose him.
-Tabby

There’s another diary entry from a few weeks later, but it’s much shorter:

He kept his word.
Still running. Always running.

Finally, the last paper is a recent letter from Jane Anderson to her sister, Jillian:
Hey Jill,
How does it feel to be finally back in your own house? Thanks so much over the years, you’ve been a real help, especially with Steven not even coming around to visit with George. You know how much I miss them. But, I promise I’ll be alright. Tabby is more important than anything. She’s still running. Day and night. She’s never told me why she constantly runs. That’s what I’d really like to know.
Why does Tabitha run?

The letter is ripped and you can’t read the rest. Slowly and carefully, you put Tabitha’s file away. For a moment, you stand there, wondering about Tabitha. She’s probably still running.

Codeword: <img src="http://i41.tinypic.com/16h2ibt.png">

Face Claim: Chloe Grace Moretz
Text:A54646
Speaking:White
Other Speech:B39696

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