who shall release us? | erika & ruth

[dovey]

RUTH WINSTERHAND

The Games are on and Ruth is invested, but the milk's run out and so has the peanut butter and this morning Mama discovered mold on what was left of the bread, so Ruth grabs her purse and her helmet, telling herself her sisters can catch her up on everything she misses and anyway the bike ride will be good for her. The sweltering heat gives the lie to the latter thought as soon as she steps outside, though, and she ducks back in to fill a water bottle and put on some sunscreen before setting off for the grocery. No good getting heat stroke on a shopping trip. How would they pay the hospital bill?

Sweat mixed with sunscreen is already running down into her eyes by the time she turns the first corner away from their apartment. She pedals hard, knees coming up just a little too high. She's outgrowing this bike. She can't pass it down yet, though; Harmony's not quite big enough to ride it comfortably. So it'll be a while before Ruth gets a new one.

That's all right. She can make do.

She blinks against the sweat. Her eyes sting.

It's a long ride to the grocery. There's one that's nearer home, but it's one of those expensive places, with the fancy teas and free-range pasture-fed everything. Irresponsible to shop there. So Ruth takes the long, winding route away from the blocks of modest apartment buildings that make up her neighborhood, up the hill and across the old tram tracks, stopping by the big mural of a lion to take a long drink of water from her bottle before continuing on her way. The roads up here are full of potholes, and her teeth rattle in her head as she jounces along the pavement, but she hasn't got much further to go now. Just up to the corner with the liquor store, turn right, pass the next intersection, and there's the grocery halfway down the block.

Ruth locks up her bike very carefully - she had one stolen once - before heading inside, helmet swinging from her arm. The air within is deliciously cool, and she stands by the door for a moment, just savoring the change in temperature. Then she takes a basket from the stack by the checkout and gets to business.

Bread, milk, peanut butter. Melanie's favorite cereal is on sale, so she grabs a box of that as well. Was there anything else they needed? She doesn't want to have to bike up here again too soon.

She scans the shelves. They've got jelly at home, they've got margarine. They've got lunch meat. She walks the narrow aisles, pausing to add a few cans of soup to her basket. Soup is always a safe bet. But why didn't she go through the kitchen before she left home and make a shopping list? Stupid of her. Stupid.

Scowling, she takes a browning bunch of bananas from the fruit display and puts them down very firmly in her basket. Inexplicably, this feels like an act of defiance.

Ruth shrugs at that irrationality and makes her way over to the checkout.

The cashier knows her face. “How’s your family?” she asks, because of course she knows them too, the defining feature of Ruth’s existence. But that’s a bitter thought and Ruth isn’t a bitter person, so she shoves it down.

“They’re good,” she says, and takes her receipt.

Opening the door feels like opening an oven. Ruth grits her teeth and steps outside, the heat washing over her, new sweat already beginning to bead up on her skin. She takes the handles of both her shopping bags in her left hand and turns to ease the door shut with her right – she knows it likes to slam. Just as she’s beginning to turn back, her eye is caught by something moving in the window of the apartment above the shop.

She realizes at once it’s the TV. Showing the Games, of course, so she takes a few steps back, casting a bare glance behind her to make sure she’s not about to run into anybody, and leans against the pole of a streetlight to see what’s happening.

She’s just in time to witness a boy – District Seven? – sink the point of a spear into Emerson Le Roux’s neck.

Ruth gasps aloud, then looks around self-consciously – that was probably a little overdramatic of her. But it doesn’t look like anyone’s stopped to judge her. And really – Emerson! A lot of people probably lost a lot of money just now.

It’s sad, she thinks belatedly, and winces at herself that it wasn’t the first thing that occurred to her. But it’s a Le Roux who’s just died, and Le Rouxes – or is it just Le Roux still, even when it’s plural? She’s not sure – anyway, they’re so famous they hardly seem like real people. They are real people, though, so she spends a conscientious moment feeling sorry for Emerson, who finishes dying on the screen in the meantime. Then the footage skips back to the moment she’s stabbed, showing the attack in slow motion this time. It’s a recap, Ruth realizes. That means the bloodbath must be well and truly over. How much has she missed?

She resolves to hurry home.

She’s turning back to the place she left her bike when something still more unexpected draws her gaze.

[Deleted]

erika nyqvist

Erika wasn't even supposed to be here right now. She was supposed to be working at her aunt's jewelry store - though in her aunt's mind she was supposed to be working there any moment she had free. Debts don't pay themselves. And whenever Erika brought up the fact that the interest she charges makes the debt impossible to pay, her aunt would always use the same excuse. Maybe your parents shouldn't have borrowed so much. Erika didn't understand how her aunt could think that away about her own sister, even after her death.

But right now, she couldn't focus on that. Her eighteenth birthday was looming and she needed money, money her aunt would never know about. Money that no one would ever know about. Right now she was talking to someone who was selling goods out of a stand rather than a traditional shop. This was common with new businesses within this part of the district. They wouldn't be able to afford the high prices for an actual store front so instead they'd set up little booths until they had enough money to use for a down payment or as collateral for a loan.

The people who ran the stalls were usually kind, hard-working people. They were also far too trusting, not realising how cutthroat this district can actually get. Erika felt bad, but you have to do what you have to do. And she had to get out of that hellhole and into a new, better life. The stand in particular was a jewelry stand. The shopkeeper was chatting with Erika about the business, recognising her from her aunts own successful shop.

At first their conversation appeared to be innocent, boring even unless you had an interest in jewelry making. There were times when Erika's eyes left the woman's face - scanning the table. She appeared to be examining the jewelry. Occasionally she inspect a piece closer, appraising it. But really, she couldn't give a damn about this woman's jewelry. She was so tired of jewelry, if she did manage to escape her life she would never wear another piece of it again.

What she did care about, were the pieces that would be easier to steal. The more expensive items were in locked display cases and she would definitely know if Erika snagged one. The rings were also questionable, they were on fake fingers for display and if a finger was empty she might notice it later that day. Then her eyes were drawn to something. Towards the middle of the table there were little bowls of silver, gold, and gemstone locket-charms to add onto your own chain. The bowls each had at least ten and it might take weeks for someone to notice one missing.

She solidified a plan in her mind, she just had to wait for the right timing. She noticed most people in the area were leaving with no one else approaching. She needed to act now. Erika spoke to the woman, now she couldn't make eye contact anymore, feeling the guilt already beginning to set in. Of course, the woman didn't notice. She was probably assuming that Erika was still examining the jewelry on the table.

"I really like this necklace, do you have it with rose gold instead of silver? My aunt's birthday is approaching and she prefers rose gold. It feels odd gifting her her own jewelry, after all."

The woman nodded and turned to a lock box, the lock box was the opposite direction of Erika meaning the woman couldn't open it and watch Erika. Erika took this time to look around the area. The area was empty except for one girl who was ensnared with the blood scenes that were playing on the television. She wasn't going to take it yet. She needed to be able to leave right after taking it to give her more time to get as far as possible.

After she got the necklace she spent a few minutes inspecting it. She ended up telling the woman she'd think about it and come back if she couldn't find a different gift for her aunt, her aunt needed a new dress after all. In reality, she had no intention of buying that necklace. Really, she wasn't going to buy her aunt shit. Her aunt had already made enough off of Erika without her buying her any gifts.

As soon as the woman turned around to put the necklace back in the lock box she grabbed three of the charms made out of various materials and shoved them in her pocket. She told the woman goodbye and turned around. That's when she realised it. The girl who was watching the tv was staring at her. She saw it. Erika had to convince her not to tell anyone, she'd be screwed if peacekeepers showed up at her aunts door.

Erika walked towards the girl, staring her straight in the eyes. Showing that she knew Ruth had seen everything. She recognised her somewhat, knowing she was a year or two younger than Erika. But she didn't by any means know who Ruth was really. She hoped the same had applied to herself. Though, here's the thing about wallflowers and people like Ruth, they see and hear a lot more than you think and know a lot about people - even if you don't even know their name.

"Can I ask why you're staring?"

[ aeron at thq ]
[ 895 words ]

[dovey]

RUTH WINSTERHAND

That's - no. No, yes, it is, that's rich Erika from school, chatting with the jewelry vendor across the street like she’s at a – a soiree or something, not standing on a cracked and dirty sidewalk on a sweltering afternoon. And it's weird enough that someone like her is up in this part of town in the first place, but either Ruth is actually hallucinating or Erika’s just stolen something, snatched it up from the table and stuffed it into her pocket while the vendor’s back was turned. Which – all right, Ruth’s heard of rich kids shoplifting for fun, but that’s at places where rich kids shop, trendy places in fashionable locations, which this is decidedly not. She doesn’t think she’s ever even seen somebody like Erika in this neighborhood before – much less stealing from it. It’s inexplicable. What is Erika thinking?

It’s at this point that Erika swings around and meets Ruth’s eyes with her own, and Ruth realizes, just an instant too late for it to do her any good, that she has rather obviously been staring.

She takes an involuntary step back as Erika approaches, unnerved by the intensity of the other girl’s gaze. Of course she can’t be happy that Ruth witnessed her stealing, but now it’s happened, what does she intend to do about it?

But before Ruth can follow that train of thought any further, Erika has reached her. She stops directly before Ruth, still staring her steadily down.

“Can I ask why you’re staring?”

Ruth’s brow furrows. “Sorry,” her mouth says, the automatic response to being accused of doing something rude. But what she’s thinking is: why are you even asking? Obviously Erika knows what Ruth saw, or she wouldn’t be over here talking to her in the first place. Why ask a question that’s already been answered?

Unless it’s not literal. Unless what the question really means is: this isn’t any of your business, so why are you acting like it is?

That brings her back to the issue of what exactly Erika means to do about this situation. Obviously she’s not going to attack Ruth in the middle of the street or anything like that, but that doesn’t mean she’s got nothing to threaten her with. Erika could come after her at school, maybe get others to do the same. Spread rumors about her, wreck her social life. Such as it is.

Still, it’s an intimidating prospect.

But that’s only speculation. And now Ruth thinks of the poor vendor, whom Erika is hurting in the here and now, and who probably can’t afford to be stolen from any more than the Winsterhands could. And she looks at Erika’s perfect hair and her perfect makeup and her perfect clothes. And she doesn’t feel like playing games with questions that aren’t asked for the sake of learning the answer.

So Ruth counters Erika with another question, one she actually wants an answer to. “Why did you do that?” she says, and her voice is quieter than she means it to be, but it stays steady.

[Deleted]

erika nyqvist

Erika may have seemed calm, but she was panicking internally. Money went a long way here and she would probably just get a slap on the wrist by peacekeepers. But her aunt? Her aunt was a different story. She could imagine her being delivered to her aunts house by peacekeepers, being labelled a thief. Her aunt would act kind and concerned until Erika was inside and the door closed behind her. Her aunt would never physically hurt her, but she could make her life Hell in other ways.

But Erika wasn't going to be divulging all of that to this girl. She wasn't going to talk about her parents debt or the fact she needed to pay to escape. And she definitely wasn't going to talk about how she's considered trying to sneak out of the district and just leaving forever. She needed to come up with an excuse and fast. Of course she could just threaten the girl, but that wasn't who she was. And even if Ruth spread rumours she knew she had a good chance of winning a game of her word versus Ruth's. But, she didn't want it to get that to that point.

She wasn't going to tell the truth, she couldn't think of a lie quite yet, and telling the truth wasn't an option. That led her with one option left - buying time while she tried to think of a more permanent solution. She needed to keep Ruth here and talking to her - she couldn't snitch if they were talking. That was something she was able to do, just improvise a conversation. She spent most of her life hiding the reality of it from the world, she could do it for one more conversation.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She was about to start bullshitting when she thought of an excuse. They were too far that Ruth likely couldn't hear her conversation with the woman, just see it. That would probably work on her behalf. She could make up whatever conversation she wanted. And that conversation could be what saved her. She looked genuinely confused as she continued to speak to Ruth.

"I got some samples for my aunt. The woman wanted to see about partnering with my aunts jewelry store so while she was putting away what I was viewing she told me to grab a couple of cheaper samples to show my aunt to see if she was interested in partnering. What do you think happened? You really shouldn't assume, things are often more than what they appear to be."

She hoped that that excuse would work well enough, if not she'd have to come up with a plan b. Maybe she could buy her way out of the situation. That would add to her debt with her aunt but she had no intention of ever paying it off, plus she was fairly certain the debt wasn't actually legally binding. There was just nothing she could do about it while living with her aunt and her aunt controlling her source of income. But if her aunt grounded her and no longer allowed her to leave the house except for work and school, any chance of freedom would vanish.

[ aeron at thq ]
[ 535 words ]

[dovey]

RUTH WINSTERHAND

“ – Oh.”

Ruth’s brow furrows, and her eyes flick downwards, confusion mingled with embarrassment beginning to build in her gut. It’s a perfectly reasonable explanation Erika has just given her, and it’s true she shouldn’t make assumptions – it’s rude –

except –

she didn’t. Not really. Did she?

What Ruth saw was Erika’s hand darting out, grabbing something from the jewelry stand, and shoving it quickly into her pocket. Then she turned around, noticed Ruth watching, and immediately crossed the street to confront her, staring her down the whole time she approached. Challenging, not confused. Ruth didn’t make any snap judgments about her, because she didn’t have time – Erika approached and questioned her before she could get past her initial surprise and actually consider whether she’d seen what she thought she’d seen.

If Erika’s telling the truth now, then what was all that for? Sure, all right, Ruth was staring, but is staring really a big enough deal to get that kind of response?

She bites her lip. Maybe it is? And anyway she’s not a Peacekeeper, and it’s not her job to be playing detective. She glances at the plastic grocery bags whose handles are still clutched in her fist. There’s milk in there; she needs to get it home and into the fridge before the summer heat turns it sour. This is none of her business. She has her own responsibilities to attend to.

Except there’s also the vendor to think about. What if Erika really did steal from her, and now she’s just lying to get Ruth to leave her alone? Ruth doesn’t want to let that stand – a rich girl casually hurting someone’s livelihood like that. It might not be enough to ruin the vendor or anything dramatic like that, but it’ll still affect her in a way that hits close to home for Ruth. Her own family had to scrape and save, cutting back on spending that was ostensibly essential, to replace her bike after it was stolen that one time. Maybe the vendor is a bit better off than the Winsterhands are, and maybe whatever Erika has (potentially) stolen is less valuable than a bicycle, but it’s the same principle. And Erika comes from a different world altogether; she almost certainly has no idea that stealing from the woman could cause that kind of harm.

Ruth clears her throat. She’s made up her mind. She’s not a Peacekeeper, and she’s not going to spend too much longer poking her nose into this, but leaving before she’s confirmed that the vendor hasn’t been wronged just wouldn’t be decent. And it’ll be easy enough to confirm – all they have to do is go over to the woman and ask. Maybe Ruth did simply misunderstand Erika’s behavior; the other girl might well be telling her the truth, in which case this situation is about to become still more awkward than it already is. But if that happens then Ruth will apologize, and both of them will go on with their days. It’s better to risk being overcautious than to let somebody get hurt just to avoid the chance of a little embarrassment.

She smiles apologetically. “Sorry,” she says, with an awkward little laugh. “It’s probably just me being paranoid, but why don’t we go over and confirm that with the vendor? Just to ease my mind.”

[Deleted]

erika nyqvist

It was working for the most part. The act always worked, after all. It worked for her and her aunt ever since her parents passed away when she was young. Erika was ready to go, but if she left now the girl might ask herself and then everything would come tumbling down. She needed to make sure she was out of the area so it would be more effort than it was worth to do any further investigation.

Ruth wanted confirmation, but she was already falling for Erika's lies. A big part of any lie was just faking it until you make it. If you sound confident enough, people will believe anything you want them to, Fact checking isn't a worry when you look and sound the part that you claim to play. And she was an expert in playing the part she was expected to play at this point.

One day she may have to come clean about everything. Her standard of living would definitely go down once she managed to get her own place, but she didn't care. She didn't need the fancy clothes and the expensive food and all of the other material possessions she got from her aunt. She would rather live a life of experiences than a life of objects. But, once she would come clean she'd be an adult living on her own. Her aunt nor anyone else would be able to do anything.

She gave a gentle smile, trying to comfort the girl. Her voice was soft, soothing. Like a mother trying to help a small child who fell and scraped their knee. Pretty words mean a lot more than hard facts - especially in places like Panem. Pretty words are how the Capitol made teenagers murdering each other something honorable. Pretty words are how people got sponsors after a quick little interview. Pretty words were everything.

"I told you, sweetie. Everything's fine, alright? You seem to have quite  a bit of groceries there, you should probably get those home. I can help you home with them if you'd like. And we can talk more too if it would make you feel better. But the poor woman is busy, and we really shouldn't waste her time. Now, did you want some help hun?"

If Ruth took the offer she could make sure that she was gone from the area all while reassuring her everything was okay. Sure, her aunt might notice her absence the longer she was gone, but it's not like it was the first time she snuck out. The important part would be hiding any valuables and money she had on her. Whenever she got caught with that kind of stuff her aunt confiscated it to pay off her debt.

[ aeron at thq ]
[ 455 words ]

[dovey]

RUTH WINSTERHAND

Erika favors Ruth with a soft smile. “I told you, sweetie,” she says, her voice ever-so-kind and gentle. “Everything’s fine, alright?”

Ruth stiffens, her own polite smile faltering.

The other teen goes on speaking – offering to help Ruth bring home her groceries, offering to talk with her some more about the situation if it would allay her concerns. Calling her hun. And really it’s the endearments that do it. Erika’s what, one or two grades above Ruth in school? And Ruth’s willing to bet she knows more about maturity and responsibility at the age of fifteen than Erika, rich girl that she is, will have learned by thirty. Yet here Erika is addressing her like she’s still in kindergarten. Don’t you worry, honey, everything’s just fine. Let’s get you home so you can have your afternoon nap.

Ruth’s jaw clenches against the retort that longs to fly from her lips. Don’t you condescend to me. But that would be a rude thing to say, and Ruth isn’t a rude person, so – not without difficulty – she swallows down the words and seeks out others less emotional, more civil. It takes her a moment to find some.

“Thank you for the offer,” she comes up with, and returns a tight-lipped smile for Erika’s far more pleasant one. “It’s very kind of you, but I have a bike with a basket.” She gestures to it where it waits a little ways down the sidewalk from them, a battered thing leaning forlornly against the lamppost to which Ruth has chained it. “So I don’t need any help. Now I’m just going to ask the lady at the stand about what you said, and she’ll confirm it for me, and then I’ll head out. It won’t even take thirty seconds, so there’s no need to worry that I’m wasting her time.”

She is not angry at Erika. Maybe she is a little irritated, but she’s not an angry person, so she isn’t angry now. No. She is simply behaving in a responsible manner, like a mature person who understands that being stolen from isn’t something everyone is rich enough to just shrug off. Because she is a mature person, whether or not Erika chooses to treat her like one. She will talk to the vendor, and they will sort out whether or not there's a problem, and Ruth will leave. And then Erika can go stare at some more jewelry or whatever she wants to do, while Ruth spends her time bringing home groceries for her family.

She nods once, firmly, as if sealing her plan into reality. Then she starts across the street, grocery bags swinging from her hand, the retort she was polite enough not to make still echoing in her head.

Don’t you condescend to me.