Growing up in District 12 is the worst thing that can happen to a child of Panem.
In the capitol, and the wealthy districts, children sought the aprobation of their parents. In the intermediate districts, children sought to be useful to their paren...
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President Snow's influence extended into every aspect of our lives, dictating our actions and manipulating our fates. When he sent a vocal coach to my apartment, I knew this was just following through with his plan for me. I had never imagined myself singing, but his orders were not to be questioned if I wanted to see another day. The vocal coach, a refined woman named Evangeline, arrived promptly at noon, her demeanor both professional and unyielding.
"President Snow has high expectations for you, Andromeda," she said, her voice smooth and authoritative. "Let's not disappoint him."
Evangeline began with the basics, teaching me how to control my breath and use my diaphragm effectively. At first, the exercises felt strange, foreign even. But soon, I found myself getting the hang of it. My voice, once used solely for shouts and unheard claims, now found a new outlet. My belts were powerful, resonating through the room with a strength I hadn't known I possessed.
"Very good," Evangeline praised, her eyes gleaming with approval. "You have a natural talent, Andromeda. Now, let's refine it."
Days passed and my sessions with Evangeline became a regular part of my routine. She pushed me to explore the depths of my vocal range, to convey emotion through song in a way I had never done before. I found myself lost in the music, using it as a temporary escape from the golden cage was in.
"I want you to feel the music, Andromeda," Evangeline would say during our sessions. "Let it speak through you, let it carry your story."
My story. But what was it really? What was my truth?
I had been shaped by so many forces, molded by the hands of others until I sometimes wondered if there was anything left that was truly my own. Even when I was the one molding myself what I was doing was a mystery to me. I was the product of two dead parents and a rather peculiar set of grandparents. And the only one I knew had casted nothing but a shadow over me. A dark specter, his expectations, his manipulations—they had transformed into something I couldn't even describe.
The truth was, I had never really known who I was meant to be. My life had been a series of roles, each one carefully crafted to fit the situation at hand. As my feelings told me each second I was in the wrong for trying to survive this madness, my senses stopped me from ending it all.
The only thing I was sure of is that destiny is such a mischievous matter. I was content with my simple and monotonus life back in 12 before everything went to shit. And now I was stuck in an inbetween, I could never be who I was but I don't know what I am. Daughter, friend, worker, symbol. Victor, Capitoline, mutt, sinner, killer.
But underneath of the visible, there was a part of me that had always remained hidden, even from myself. A part that yearned to break free from the chains that bound me, to be more than just a product of circumstance.
I didn't know who I was yet. But I knew that I wasn't ready to give up on finding out. The journey to self-discovery was far from over, and as long as I had the strength to keep fighting, I knew I would find the answers I was looking for.
