𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝑶𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒓

𝐎𝐍𝐄.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.

Staring at herself in the cracked mirror, Rosemary fussed. She didn't know how to do her hair, so she just brushed it and pulled some of it back, leaving half of it still down. It was something she saw other girls do, and she thought it looked good.

"Pull yourself together, Rosie," she muttered to herself frustratedly as she washed her face yet again. It was pale, anxiety stripped away the usual lightly tanned skin. "It's going to be fine," she tried to reassure herself, wanting to get rid of her churning gut and pounding headache. With the fine hairs dotted around her hair now wet, she ran her shaky fingers through them, pushing them back, despite knowing they'd soon bounce back in curls. "It's always fine."

She wasn't entirely sure why she felt such pressure to look good, all she did was stand in a crowd of teenagers praying, hoping they weren't going to be sentenced to death. But she did feel the pressure, so she woke with the sun after a night fitful sleep, scrubbing at her skin to get rid of any dirt, trying to do her thick, blonde hair - without much success, she still didn't like the way it looked - and pulling out her one nice dress. It was old, her mother's, actually. She'd hung it on the back of the cramped bathroom door to get rid of the crinkles it gained sitting at the back of her cupboard. She didn't like looking at it more than she had to.

A small knock at the bathroom door pulled Rosie from her quiet panic, taking a deep breath she made sure to smile as she opened the door. She knew who was on the other side, her little cousin.

"Hey little man, did you just wake up?" She asked with a smile. The seven-year-old boy nodded, wiping the back of his hand against his eyes wearily, his hair spiked up in every direction.

"Is it the bad day?" He asked, voice croaky. His big brown eyes looked at his elder cousin, taking in her appearance. He knew she only took this long if she was trying to look nice, and this was the only time she made an effort.

"You're going to be fine, you're going to stay with your Dad. I'll be right back, it won't take long," She assured. "Is he awake?" She took a step out of the bathroom and looked around for her Uncle. It only took a few more steps until she saw him, passed out on the sofa which was older than Rosie, possibly older than her Uncle himself. "Go wash your face and brush your teeth, I'll go wake him up." She ruffled her cousin's hair who just nodded at the girl who practically raised him. She always made sure he had something to eat, had clothes on his back, and made it to school.

Walking across the small house the old floorboards creak under her weight. She got to her Uncle who had lost a considerable amount of weight in the past few years - he'd gone from someone who worked hard, taking long hours to make enough money to keep his family sated, to a man who stole money to keep his bloodstream full of alcohol. It drained his body of the muscle he gained from his labour-intensive job, and the light behind his eyes was snuffed out, leaving just the shell of the man he once was. She grabbed the glass of water she'd tried to have him drink the night prior, which he refused, and promptly threw it on his face. He sat up, startled at his rude awakening.

"Good morning. You need to get up, it's Reaping Day, so you've got an hour to get your shit together. Then you need to look after Orion, can you do that?" Her words were stern, and her face cold as she stared.

He looked at his niece, a girl he'd promised his sister he'd look after. But now it was the other way around, the freshly fifteen-year-old was looking after him as he lazed around, feeling sorry for himself, slowly killing his liver. Making everything about him. He gave her a stiff nod.