>waiting for spring< (open for anyone)

[spectra]

‘See you in a bit!’ Sorcha yelled into the open door before stepped forwards, out of the shop and into the firing range of the icy blast of wind, which had been swirling through the streets of District 11 for weeks. She turned around and pulled the door shut tight as her hair whipped around her face painfully. Already her teeth were chattering loudly, and it was only going to get colder over the week. She pulled her worn gloves on over her pale hands, they had hole’s in the knuckles and had received a good amount of wear and tear over the years.

Winter was a harsh month, so many died. The death rate went up all around Panem, and many people had to give up work for the season. Sorcha had attended the funeral of her friends younger brother earlier this month. It hadn’t been a happy day, so many people had been crying, with children hugging their parent’s legs. Although, Sorcha knew at least she had one good reason to be happy. The Reaping was over, and she and her younger siblings had been spared another year, another year to live their life. Another year to wait in terror. Sorcha’s older brother was now able to avoid the reaping. He was over 18. It was hard to avoid the relief on his face on the day when he had turned 18, he had been happy, more so than anyone else. And had good reason to be.

Not much happened in this part of District 11 at this time of year, the soil was solid, and although the crops needed constant maintaining it involved a lot of waiting. Waiting for the seasons to swap. Waiting for the first rays of sunlight to burn through the chill to bring hope to people. Telling them they had survived another winter.

Sorcha began to walk down the street, towards the Orchards. She had been given a few hours to do as she wished. Her parents and siblings were capable of finishing of the last of the order of baskets they had been given in preparation for spring. Sorcha touched the few coins in her pocket. She wanted to buy a new pair of laces for her shoes, as the others were getting worn out. For the richer people, it was nothing to be excited about. But for her, she was getting a treat. She had saved up for this, over the winter. She needed the new laces for spring. Her mother had also told her to go to the butchers to get a bone for Alf, their dog. He had been whining recently, and had good reason to. They had run out of food a few weeks ago, and had nothing to chew or eat. Sorcha roughly knew the price of what she should be getting the items for, and also how to haggle, since the merchants were people who weren’t going to give you a bargin.

As a person she knew walked past, she gave them a nod as a greeting as she knew any greeting would be blown away with the wind which was still rattling through.

[Stare]

August Millory

Innocent
Until proven guilty.
<><><><><><><>

District Eleven is strangely cold this year. I was surprised when I saw the first few lazy flakes drifting down from a plain gray sky, a shade rarely seen down in this area. I've probably seen snow before. My parents say that it snowed a little the year before the accident. I wonder how I felt at that moment. Was I confused? Angry? Excited?

It's hard. Not remembering makes me uncertain on how I should feel when certain events occur. Perhaps some day, the memories will flood back, but for now, I find that just ignoring my haunting emptiness is easier. People tell me I should try to look back, and look for answers. That I'll remember faster. But it's just too painful. The hurt of reaching the big, tall wall in my mind isn't worth it.

My feet crunch through the white stuff with every step, and my breath curls into the air before slowly fading. My eyes stare ahead, distant as I think about many different things. Thoughts fly into my mind and then out, drifting like air. Maybe that's all that's up there, after all. It would explain my awful grade a got yesterday on that test...

It hits me suddenly. Without my permission, as if on instinct, my arms cross over my stomach, driping the air near my hips and finding nothing there. Frustrating, I yank them back, and anger moves through me in waves. I take it a sharp hiss of ice cold air, instantaniously drying the saliva on my front two teeth. A low growl escapes my throat, and my hands try to grip some invisable weapon.

Luckily, this one is short. It goes away as quickly as it came, and I am left empty and confused. It happens every now and then, most often when I am in the woods. In the beginning, I tried to resist. But I always ended up hurting myself, so I eventually gave in, grabbing a large stick and swinging it around until the feeling disolved. I don't tell my parents. They'd probably make me go to some therapist or something. And that's the last thing I need. Just one more person listing all the things that are wrong with me...

Someone nearby glares at me, and I look away uncomfortably. Half the people here no who I am. They were either at the trial, or heard about it. Apparently, the person I killed didn't kill was accused of killing was pretty popular. Many people are certain it was me, and think the trial was unfair. They believe the judge was just feeling sorry for me after the accident, and I don't blame them. I don't defend myself, because honestly, I don't know what happened. It's very possible I was a murderer. It's very possible I wasn't. I might never know, though. And they might forever accuse me.

I glare at the ground as I walk, wishing that my life could just be easier. Everyone has troubles, but this is ridiculous. The only good things in my life are my parents. Everything else went terribly wrong. When I woke up in that ally, I expected someone to be welcoming me with open arms, glad I was alive. Not Peacekeepers, starvation, and an orphanage. It all leads me back to the one unanswerable question.

Who was I?


(OOC: Just to save you the trouble of reading her bio, August lost her memory a while back, and she's been accused of being a murderer. The judge said she was innocent, but a lot of people still hate her. Also, I aplogize for the shortness.)

[spectra]

Sorcha M. Carter


As Sorcha walked she shoved her hands in her pockets, balling them into tight little fists to try and block the holes that always seemed to end up in every piece of warm clothing she owned. It wasn’t always a happy life, living here in District 11, but as everyone needed to, they got on with it. Harvesting when they needed to, planting crops when the time was right, and hoping with all of their mind that the peacekeepers didn’t single them out for some unknown reason. Being made to stand there, on the broken wooden stand, where the whip curled their like a viper, ready to strike someone’s hope’s away. Sorcha had witnessed 5 whippings so far this year, and it had only just begun. One had been recently, when someone tried to fight a peacekeeper after disagreeing with the outcome of the reaping. Of course, it wouldn’t make a difference, who could stop the capitol? They were an invincible force, a God looking over their subjects, ready to twist and turn their lives as they wished. As palpable as clay.

Such thoughts brought Sorcha’s temper forwards, so it hung their at the front of her mind like a storm cloud. She shoved the thoughts angrily to the back of her mind as the passed some more people, and instead exchanged he neutral expression into a frown as she calculated the unfairness of the whole situation. Sorcha hoped she wasn’t going to be picked and shoved into the ever-looming Hunger Games, but then, death could be a nice alternative to a life like this.

She could already hear the hustle and bustle of the market in the distance. It was surprising, she had expected it to be deserted, for saying most people were poor in this district. Unlike in the upper districts, for instance 1 through to 4, who seemed to have everything at their expense, and it was almost cruel, the way they won the Hunger Games and were treated even more while the ones who needed it were left to deal with their losses.

In the distance, Sorcha could see the group of remaining people in the fields, even from this distance, she could see the shiver of her bodies as they walked. This year was being so unforgivingly cold. They had done nothing wrong, or, if they had, Mother Nature had failed to tell them about their faults. As she walked, not paying attention as usual, she walked straight into girl who was walking the opposite way. ‘Oh! Sorry!’ Sorcha exclaimed, she may have been grumpy currently, but it was no reason not to be polite. She looked up and realised that she knew the girl, although she wasn’t sure where from. Puzzled, Sorcha searched around in her memories, trying to place where she was from.

Then it clicked. It was that girl who had been on trial a while ago, who had killed that person… Sorcha wasn’t sure who it was, she herself had never actually heard of the person, but at the time it had seemed a lot of people had. Sorcha frowned, and, just for confirmation, she asked. ‘Aren’t you girl who was on trial?’ She tilted her head slightly to one side, trying to confirm her own question.

[Stare]

August Millory

Innocent
Until proven guilty.
<><><><><><><>

While lost in thought, someone runs into me. I blink in surprise, taking one swooping step back to put distance between us and ensure it doesn't happen again. Seeing it's only another girl, I relax. She's a few inches smaller than me, and I have to tilt my head down slightly to meet her eyes. The gray blue, although very well matching the ice cold world around us, is welcoming and warm. As I see her face shift into a more puzzled expression, I realize with a sinking heart that she recognizes me. That can never be good.

I sigh at her question, and a long stream of mist seeps through my lips and twists into the sky like a curled ribbon. There is no hiding my disappointment from this girl who knows about the trial and the murdered victim and probably about how I was found innocent because of pity. Pity probably was what saved me. However, I like to grib onto the thread of a possibility that that judge found me innocent because I was innocent. That maybe he knew something that everyone else didn't. I search my hands, just as he did, for the answers. But there are none in the soft, smooth lines that form and I curl my palm around itself.

That ally was a horrible experience. Waking up to find only the damp, dirty ground beneath my and a huge bump on my head, stinging and bleeding. I remember sitting up, confused and uncertain, wanting to cry but for some reason refusing. I remember standing up, wandering down the dark path. I remember my bare feet getting wet and cut by loose rocks. I remember being found, with people screaming and moving away at first, and then moving towards me, staring at the lump and my blank, confused expression. They say I could have died. They say I should have died. Sometimes, I just wish they'd not say anything at all.

I never met the person's family. I'm not sure if it's because they hated me, or were afraid of me, or they were too greif stricken to even think of me. They weren't even at the trial. Perhaps it was too painful for them. A few have told me what he was like. They say that he was fun and full of laughter, which of course, only makes me feel worse. What if I did murder him? What if I'm guilty? What if these people are right to hate me? What if, what if, what if...?

This girl, however, doesn't seem to hate me. She seems simply curious. In fact, she doesn't even look scared, like those who don't glare at me to my face usually do. Maybe this should make me feel better, but I only find my heart sinking lower. It should be refreshing to have someone look at me and not feel a deep hatred. But instead, I feel only disappointment that even this nice girl knows me as the murderer who was found innocent.

I wonder what they would say if they knew what went on in my mind. I wonder if they'd feel pity if they knew how hard it was for me to hit a wall every time I look back. Maybe they'd be nicer to me if they realized that emptiness haunts me day and night. That screams and blackness rule my sleep, turning my dreams into dark nightmares that refuse to leave. Maybe they'd think I was innocent if they saw how losing my memory scarred me.

Probably not, though.

I've learned a few things about hatred. It's very, very hard to kill. It's fueled by pride and the wrongess of a situation or event. And worst of all, it grows. My parents try to protect me from the glares and shoves and anger. But I'm not blind. I can feel the rage that is directed at me as if it were an actual blow.

It's not like it matters, though. Yeah, I don't like that fact that half the district deeply despises me. But there's no way I can possibly change it. I have absolutely no evidence that I'm innocent. So the best I can do is put on a smile and pretend that I don't see thier glares. It's easiest just to ignore them and be happy.

I beam down at her, nodding. "Yeah, that's me. Although, in my opinion, August is a much easier name to say."

[/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[spectra]

Sorcha watched the girl as she seemed to wrestle with emotions. Was it that she didn’t want to admit to being the girl everyone knew about? She had, after all, been the talk of the district for many weeks after the incident. Like many of the people classed as ‘criminals’ Sorcha had been told to avoid them at all costs. She had learnt this from her parents, who had sat her down at the kitchen table and told her about the differenced between people. How some appeared good, but underneath, they were like viper’s. Ready to inject their deadly poison into the veins of their victims.

Sorcha frowned slightly as she thought a little more about it. Shouldn’t this girl be locked up, or at least being hunted down by the peace keepers if she was a suspected criminal. That’s what usually happened. Sorcha had witnessed a chase which had taken the whole week, since the target had kept hiding in people’s houses, and in the sewer network that ran underneath the District. Personally, Sorcha thought to herself. I wouldn’t stay in the district if I became condemned to face the whip, I would run, get out of this place, get to the next district… Her thoughts trailed off as she realised she was staring absently into the distance as she thought. Not a good way to meet someone if you appeared as if you weren’t listening to them.

Overall, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do, she couldn’t remember the girls exact crime, as it had just been a piece of news which hadn’t bothered her in the slightest. News that bothered her mainly consisted of people from her class or school being picked to participate in the hunger games, and also the dreaded screenings every day as they had to watch people be slaughtered. In Sorcha’s opinion, this was one of the only worth while reasons to get entirely angry at something.

When the girl introduced herself, Sorcha nodded in acceptance. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Sorcha.’ She introduced herself, looking up at the girl and grinning back. ‘Nice to meet you.’ The girl didn’t seem dangerous, so it was better to be polite and get her on her side and gain a little trust early on.

[Stare]

August Millory

Innocent
Until proven guilty.
<><><><><><><>

My life isn't always bad. Sometimes, it's amazing. My parents are extremely nice, and almost never fight. I'm not poor, which is really saying something in this district. I can't remember ever being whipped. I'm not starving all the time. I live a pretty good life, when you step back and look at it.

I guess sometimes, when everything bad just kind of knits itself together, I can forget about how amazing it all is. That's one of the reasons I love going into the woods. The silence and acceptance clears my head. The green leaves and sunlight acts like a map to my lost soul, healing small cuts in my delicate self confidence that were created by a few too many glares. The way everything just moves and breaths with the tiniest breeze reminds me that I'm not totally alone in life. It's refreshing to have a day to myself in the trees, even if it is working.

Her treating me like a normal person and not like a suspected murderer comes very close to making me feel the same way. It's nice to know that not everyone in the world hates you. I know that there a lot of people don't hate me, because they have absolutely no clue who I am. But that's not exactly comforting. Standing in front of my is a girl who knows I was on trial, and still is being polite and unafraid, I feel my day brighten up a bit.

But happiness can't last forever.

I let out a gasp as someone shoves into me from behind. I take an unsteady step forward, my arms extended like a bird about to take flight. Seeing the icy cold snow waiting for me on the ground, I wince, waiting for the impact. Luckily, though, it never comes. After a few moments, I realize I regained my balance, and open my eyes slowly. I'm only a few inches away from Sorcha, and I instantly pull back, emabarassed at how close I came to hitting her... again.

The man behind me is tall and strong, not uncommon in this district. His muscels bulk, and his face shows a few nights with no sleep. His nose is big and rather lumpy, which makes me suspect he broke it not too long ago. He's frowning at me, which is never a good sign.

"That's for Ben," he says, and I instantly recognize the name. I want to just scream at him that I didn't kill the person, but I know that I can't, because I'm not sure that's the truth. So instead, I stare at the random patterns on the ground as he walks away.

I wish that people would just leave me alone. Whoever I was, that was before the accident, and this is after. I'm hardly the same person. I don't remember anything. According to many, my personality is almost the exact opposite. Why can't the accept the fact that I'm different now, and even if I did murder him, I would never do that now.

But things don't work that way. People who hate don't consider the other side's feelings or thoughts. All they want is to hate, because they can't find any other way to express their inner pain. I bite my tongue in despair. I know why people act the way they do, and sometimes, I'm just going to have to face it.

Suddenly remembering Sorcha, I jerk my head up, looking guilty and embarassed at the same time. "I'm so sorry. Um... people do that every now and then."

[/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[spectra]

The girl seemed occupied with her memories a lot of the time. Her eyes looked glazed over, as if she was reasoning whilst thinking. Sorcha wondered what had happened in her life to cause her to turn to crime, if any of it was true, that is. Sorcha herself hadn’t seen the trial, but many of her friends had gone, the reason unknown. Maybe to gawk at someone in their class. Maybe to laugh and hope it would never happen to them?

Sorcha pushed her thoughts aside as she noticed someone walking towards them from a group of many people, just behind August. She frowned, what where they doing? At the man neared, his friends began to laugh, as if this was some sort of dare, a game perhaps. Sorcha watched, thinking he was going to change direction, pass by and leave them alone. She was wrong. She watched in horror as the man shoved her. ‘HEY!’ Sorcha shouted, before she could stop herself. ‘WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM?’ She added, her temper rising. She hated activity like this, she made a mental note to push that person out of the orchard trees or drop an apple on his head if she saw him in the harvest. He deserved it. Treating people like that, as if they were animals with no feelings. As August falls forwards, Sorcha reached out to stop her, but the other girl manages to re-gain her balance after becoming close to landing flat in the snow. August stepped away from her, Sorcha could tell she was embarrassed.

The man is still standing there as Sorcha looks up, her expression livid. The man says the name of the boy that August was accused of killing. Sorcha had never known him, had never cared to either. Many people died in District 11 every day, if one person killed another it was probably for the best, if anything. Sorcha’s hands tighten into fists as she watched the man walk away. Her short temper always got the better of her. She took in a deep breath. Calming herself. Telling herself there was nothing to get stressed about. ‘They shouldn’t do that. You should stand up to them.’ Sorcha answered once she had managed to control the anger.

[Stare]

August Millory

Innocent
Until proven guilty.
<><><><><><><>

Stand up to them? Sometimes, I really wish I could. Anger differs greatly from the normal vivacity that flows through my veins, but it is not a feeling that is completely foreign to my personality. Hatred and disapprobation can strike a nerve sometime, as people don't really seem to realize that they're taking things too far. It's very difficult to keep myself together in times where it seems that everyone is against me, but I must, or make my situation worse.

They are smart, though. Underneath all their insults, I see a motive. If they get me mad, and I do something bad, I will instantly be put on another trial, and most likely will not be found innocent again. Self control is more essential to me than anyone else in the district. The Keepers watch us all very closely, most likely because our district is so large, but they've always watched me closer than the rest. I can't really blame them. I'm the girl who slipped through their fingers once, and they will not let that happen again. I can't help but fear them, really. They are strong and tall and have that air of power about them that makes me just want to run and hide. When near them, I feel tiny and unimportant, which is why I generally avoid them at all costs.

Sometimes I wonder if my life will always be like this. I'll be hiding from the Keepers' constantly angry eyes, having to always be happy and nice and never angry, and dealing with people who I can't even disagree with because they'd find a way to get me in trouble. And, on top of it all, I can't remember anything about the event that made my life a swirling world of fear and torture. The one key thing that I need to fix it all is hidden somewhere behind the wall that blocks off my mysterious past.

Sometimes I catch glimpses of it, which I guess is better than nothing. They don't usually last long, though. I flash of golden brown hair that matches mine almost exactly. A glimpse of the stars through a awning of leaves. A scream of anger. A flash of silver. But these give no hints to my past. According to my parents, my mother and father were often drunk, and I annoyed them, so they sent me away a lot. I'm told that I used to spend long nights laying on my back in the woods, often falling asleep on a large tree branch. That's probably how I became so attached to nature. It almost doesn't feel real, hearing them talk about my past. It seems like they're telling someone else's story, because what they're saying just can't be what I went through. I just feel so different. That person can't be me.

So when someone accuses me of murder, it's hard. I become this odd little girl with no past and only a feeling to defend herself with. A little girl who has to keep her mouth shut and who can not have a temper. A little girl who just might not be as innocent as she wants to be.

I give a sigh, shaking my head slightly. No, standing up for myself is not an option. It never has been, and it never will be. I have to keep my head down and ignore them the best I can, and when things get bad, just take it. Maybe it's making me stronger. Maybe it's tearing me apart inside.

"I can't do that," I say quietly, eying the man with irritation as he walks away. "I'm not even sure if I killed the guy or not. I have nothing to back myself up with. And even if I did, I'd only put myself in danger of another trial by causing trouble."

[/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[spectra]

August seemed more scared out of anything. Sorcha couldn’t understand when people were like this, scared to stand up to something. If it was Sorcha, she probably would of launched herself at the man and would currently be punching him right now, if she had the choice. This attitude to people treating others badly came from when Sorcha was a child in primary school, she herself was bullied because of the fact she wasn’t the brightest and didn’t have many friends. Also, the fact that she had an imaginary friend probably didn’t help. Emily had been her friend for many years whilst she was growing up, she was often found talking to herself in the playground and classroom. People fought her some times, yelling at her.

After this Sorcha had made sure that the same didn’t happen to her younger sister when she started school, she had stood for her most of the time, not wanting her to have pain and be on her own, sitting there with silent tears running down their face with no one to comfort them.

Sorcha watched the group of people walk into the distance, high-fiving each other and laughing as if one of them had told the best joke that ever existed, even though it was highly unlikely. Sorcha dragged her eyes away from them before her anger started up again. She shifted her gaze to the floor, watching it as if it was suddenly the best thing that ever existed. ‘You need to get your memory back then, start linking one thing to another, try to do that.’ She answered and shrugged. She hadn’t personally ever met someone who had lost their memory before, it wasn’t exactly normal. Sorcha hadn’t ever met her before, or known her before the accident, so there was no way to tell if she was actually the murderer or not. Sorcha hoped not, because if she was, that would mean that this meeting would be slightly more dangerous.

[Stare]

August Millory

Innocent
Until proven guilty.
<><><><><><><>

I wish it was that simple. Just follow memory after memory, and it all comes back. But life doesn't like to make things that easy. How many times have I tried to follow the chain, only to hit empty space. It's almost like they were never there. Of course, Sorcha isn't the first person to try and convince me to keep on trying. My parents and doctors have told me at least a million times to look back as often as possible. But they don't understand how much it hurts to find nothing but empty promises and darkness.

The wierd thing is, those flashes of my past come when I'm not trying to think about it. One minute, I'll be reaching for a fruit on a branch, and the next, I'll be seeing a flash of something silver in a dark forest. As much as I love finding out more about my past, it can be very annoying and even dangerous sometimes.

Seeing the slight uncertainty in her eyes, I want to assure her that she doesn't have to be afraid of me. That even if I was a murderer, I'm perfectly safe now. But that sounds absolutely ridiculous, even to me. Besides, I'm not even sure if I'm a safe person. Just a few minutes ago, I had another random burst of anger where I wished I had a weapon. Perhaps that's something that happens to people who lost their memory. Probably not, though.

I tense when I hear one of them laughing even harder, my back bending over slightly as if feeling the actual weight of their mean jokes. I'm sure there's more to it than just jokes, though. When people start to get a bit more anxious around me than normal, I know something's up. Usually, I move away before something really humiliating happens. I've found it's sometimes safer for me to avoid people. Not that they'd ever get away with hurting me in front of the Keepers, but physical pain isn't the only kind that exists.

I stare at the ground in what might be shame, although I don't have anything to be ashamed of. Maybe I'm just mad at myself for not being able to do anything about the abuse. Although, when I really look at it, none of that is my fault. I'm doing it to protect myself and my family. Sometimes, life just feels unfair.

Although, if life were about to suddenly become fair, it most certainly was not going to do so for me.

"I wish it was that simple," I say regretfully, turning to glance through my tangled hair toward them. "But everytime I come close to remembering, I hit empty space. And it just hurts too much to keep on trying."

It's not a hurt that she would recognize. Not a hurt such as sorrow or rage. It's something totally different. The feeling of knowing something is there, but you can't reach it is a feeling that is foreign to so many people. And it is a hurt. A hurt that settles in my chest and refuses to leave, showing itself in the despair in my eyes.

And it refuses to leave.


((OOC: Sorry it's short. I was low on muse.))

[/size][/blockquote][/justify]

[spectra]

Sorcha had never had the problem that this girl seemed to be having. All her memories were easy access to her, with no blocks, walls of deceit that took her away from the truth. Sometimes, her memories were inaccurate, a piece of conversation changed. An event slightly exaggerated, but that was all. Sorcha’s mind was her own, and she planned to keep it that way. August must of gone through some hard times to have suffer like this, without any clue of what was once there. She must have had to re-build her life. From scratch.

It must have been so hard, re-building. Had it hurt other people? Had she forgotten those she had once loved and cared about, having no connections with anybody? These questions floated unanswered in Sorcha’s mind as she thought, trying to figure it all out but coming to no conclusion. In the end, they disappeared. Evaporating into smoke. It must be scary, having no memory. Sorcha thought to herself, attempting to put herself in August’s situation unsuccessfully.

‘Can you remember, anything? From… before the incident?’ Sorcha avoided the word murder, it didn’t seem right to be talking about something like that so freely in the middle of a street. Usually, unless caught, a sane person would keep there thoughts to themselves, there crime to themselves. August didn’t seem to have that luxury any more. Everybody knew her secret, what she had done, and it had caused her more trouble than good in this new life, it seemed.

Sorcha followed August’s gaze to the ground, wondering what was so fascinating with it, it looked the same as normal. A slightly dusty road, with few leaves scattered across it, getting blown around in the wind, moving from one place to the next quickly and quietly. The laughing was still echoing in the distance, so eventually Sorcha made the connection between August’s reaction and the noise. It was upsetting her.

She listened to what the other girl had to say. ‘You’ll find your memory one day, it’s just locked up.’ I hope Sorcha added silently in her mind.

OOC: Sorry for it being so short.

[Stare]

August Millory

Innocent
Until proven guilty.
<><><><><><><>

I would shatter that lock. I would find it, break it, and probably break myself in the process. I would toss it to the stars and hope they catch it and take it far away. If my memories were locked in some secret safe, I would die trying to open it, and spend all eternity afterwards searching for the key. But that's not how it works. Memories aren't physical things you can lock up and hide away. They exist only in your mind and your heart, unreachable once you've thrown them away, untouchable once you've let go of them. They are slippery things that can be lost in a single instant, never to be recovered again. Memories can make you cry a river, and memories can teach you more than you would ever learn in fifty years of school. Memories can make you suffer, yet it is very hard to find a way to make them heal. The sorrow they cause along with the happiness is something that keeps you on a constant rollercoaster, twisting and turning, in and out of the darkest corners of your mind, where secrets are hidden.

I remember the first time someone hurt me because of something I couldn't remember. I don't know who he was, but he was mad, because I did something before the accident. Something unfair to him. And suddenly, there was a flash of metal, and a red stripe appeared on my arm. It had been as thin as a thread at first, but the blood gathered, dripping down my arm like a scarlet tear. And I screamed. I screamed so loud, he ran. He ran and he ran, until I couldn't see him, but still, my voice echoed through the woods. It was a constant howl of anger and sorrow and complete helplessness that refused to stop, only breaking in a few places when I ran out of breath. The scream was quickly mixed with weeping, until my tears finally claimed victory, and I sat and sobbed, while the shallow cut dried and the leaves moved and the wind whispered. I cried until there were no tears left, and then I wrapped my arms around my knees and sat in a silence that was almost worse than the tears, because it so perfectly matched the emptiness I felt inside. All my thoughts and feeling were out on the ground before me, and I sorted through emotion after emotion until all I felt was something rather close to exhaustion. And I slept.

The word must have spread quickly of my reaction, because no one tried to hurt me again. I don't know what took over me at that moment. The rage I felt moving through my blood was like all the times I've ever been taken over my the feeling of anger, only intensified. Everything inside was put into that scream. Maybe it had all been building up, and that cut just made me snap. Everything tried to find it's way screams and tears. It was terrifying. I may have been pain free for the first time, but without pain, there was nothing else. I was numb. I was empty. I was an emotionless shell. And it was terrifying, not having the girl who is August radiating from inside of me. Only this blank nothing was left. Maybe it was the emptiness in half of my mind, finally taking over. Maybe my lost memories will eventually drive me insane.

I hope I find them before that happens.

My memories start in a dark alley, with pain and mud and puddles. I was so confused. So without answers. And my memories end here. Where I'm even more confused and with even more questions. Sometimes, it feels like it would be easier just to crawl into bed and never come out and think about how I might have been a criminal ever again. I couldn't have been a bad person. I just know I wasn't, and so did that judge, so if they want to think that I am, tough, because it's not true. But I can't just hide under the covers and lie to myself like that. You lie to yourself, and then you lie to others, and suddenly, you're not even sure what the truth is anymore. And I can't drive myself to that. I already know so little about it right now.

The truth. That's all I ever wanted, and I may never get it. It hardly seems fair. The one thing I ask for is an answer. I'd leave my home and wander the streets hungry if I knew if meant getting an answer. I'd even ask the Capitol for help if I knew they could give it. I'd go into the Games to get my memory back. I'd do anything for an answer.

"It's lost forever," I whisper, shaking my head and staring at her with envy. "That's how it feels. People don't know... they don't understand how precious memories are. They just don't get what it's like to never know, and the oldest memory you have is waking up in some dark alley, half soaked, freezing, and hurt, and when you look for help, people back away, afraid of you, and you don't know why!"

My voice has become very loud, and a few people stare at me. I hand my head, pressing my lips together, the agony clear on my face. They make fun of me. They hurt me. They hate me. "And I never know why."

[/size][/blockquote][/justify]

[Nocturnal]

I hang from a close-by tree, unnoticed, as usual. Sighing, I watch the discussion taking in place in front of me, while I huddle up to keep warm. My thin black jacket just wasn't able to cut it these days, I realize, as the wind burrows down through layers of clothes, and penetrates my thin bones. Again, I shiver, and then I scamper down the tree, hidden by the tall grasses.

Downwind of the two talkers, like a wolf, I watch and wait, for one of them to show any items with a significant worth. Seeing their tormentors, I almost stand up and confront them; but no, if anyone knew that I was out here, I'd be dead before you could say "Thief". Shaking my dark hair out of my electric blue eyes, I force myself to stay still.

"Thats all you ever do! You know I'm right Aradia," a voice hisses to me in my head, and I shake it, trying to shake out the memories. The pain, the suffering of my family...I...Just sat there, as I do now; but what could I do? I feel myself choking up, the force of it all too much to handle at once. I have to take it little by little, or else I get overwhelmed before I even start.

"I am Aradia Sylversnatch. I live in district 11. I am a thief. I had 7 brothers. I only have one brother now." Thats about all I can handle, before my blue eyes start to get misty, and a lone tear trickles down my face, leaving a salty trail of pain behind it. My eyes glaze over slightly, but;

"I will NOT let myself get depressed." I chide myself sternly, and then remember why I'm here.
Bartholomew. Home. Money. That's all that matters to me now, nothing more, nothing less.
(sorry for shortness, just not much to say..Yet)

[spectra]

[OOC: Sorry for taking forever to reply, I will reply tommorow, promise]

[spectra]

[[It’s awful and short, sorry!]

Sorcha had never lived the life of terror that this girl seemed to have, and she was determined not to. This girl seemed to be a mess because of what had happened to her, it seemed that most people judged her for her unknown past, and not for what she was like now. For all Sorcha could see she was just someone who wanted to be safe, without people shoving her around and telling her what to do all the time. August’s current expression seemed terrified, a deer in the headlights, waiting for death. Sorcha guessed that she was remembering something from the past, something horrible.

Sorcha tried to remember her own most frightening experience, to her knowledge, she seemed to not have many, but she had probably shoved them all to the back of her mind, so she couldn’t be haunted by the memory every waking moment of her life. The only one she could remember was 3 years ago, at the harvest, she had been picking apples off the trees as it was her assigned job, but then, as a strong wind blew past, it shook the whole tree, the whole structure of it creaking and groaning. It had begun falling, and she remembered the ground coming up to meet her face, she had only managed to escape with a broken arm, but if the tree had fallen her way any more, she would of been crushed.

The girl opposite Sorcha began to speak again, and she noticed the shine of envy in the other girls eyes. Was it because she had been managed to keep her memories. It most likely was, this girl had nothing else to be envious of Sorcha with. For a moment, she didn’t know how to reply, but finally said. ‘One day it may come back though, you should ask about your past, know every detail, then it may help.’ Sorcha didn’t know what else to say, she wasn’t good with emotions, it wasn’t her strong point by far.

Suddenly, she heard a noise. Someone whispering. Sorcha turned towards the direction of the sound. ‘WHO’S THERE?’ She yelled, as her voice was carried away by the wind.