When The Canary Sings

Like a Ghost

First Person Point of View: [???]

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Becca Blue is the typa girl who comes and goes as she pleases. A girl that's the wind, one second she's there, and the next she's not. She'll slip through your fingers like dry dirt, and you'll never be able to catch her.

The most accurate way to describe Becca Blue is like a ghost. She appears and disappears, comes and goes, pops in and pops out. She's a girl that will haunt you forever and ever. One minute, you're holding hands, and the next you're in a screaming match, then, she's gone, her guitar strapped to her back as she storms away. You see glimpses of her, her and her bright red hair as she wanders around the streets or sells candy with her grandmother.

She's a real lost soul. Nowhere to go, nowhere to stay. Her grandmother was too old, her mother too drugged up, and her father too dead. You date for a bit, just for the money, then it all ends with a bang, a flash. A twinge of lust and a pretty girl in some dark corner with music playing in the background. One second, you're making out with a real pretty gal backstage, and the next she's behind you, pulling at your hair and screaming. Then, in a flash, she's gone.

You had ups and downs, given bruises and scratches, and ya' think that it'll never get back to you...but, trust me, the past always catches up to you.

Becca Blue sure isn't an easy person to hate. She has this smile, a smile that lights up an entire room and spreads like a disease. Her eyes are this deep green that mimics the color of the forest she loves so much. And her voice...

Her voice is something that was sent from heaven. I always used to tell her that there was an angel trapped in her voicebox, an angel that played her vocal chords like a harp. She just laughed her laugh that sounded like melodies from God himself.

All of these qualities...that's what made me hate her. I can't explain it...at all. I just—there is a deep hatred inside of me for her. I can't control it, I can't press it down.

So that day when the Capitol bitch read her name out on that stage was the happiest day of my life. I had to bite back a sick smile as I watched the crowd part around her like the sea when Moses waved his staff. She walked, back straight and eyes forward, and I couldn't just...let her go. I couldn't let her leave this Earth without me saying my final goodbye. So, I opened my mouth.

"That's what girls like you get, Becca Blue!" I screamed as the crowd opened up to reveal me to the cameras. Then, just like Becca creeping around and showing up in the worst moments, my anger flashed and I took a few steps forward. "You can't be no traitor and not expect karma to come chasin' after yer' tail!" I absolutely flipped then. You could hear a pin drop, there wasn't a sound in the district! Even the wind had stopped.

Then, she snapped, I guess she was finally tired of me embarrassing her. "You go get a life, Ryder Joe!" She sneered, stomping her foot. "I ain't got no time for you no more!"

Then, I told her off. "I only got one bet on you! I bet a year's salary, you'll be dead in the first five!" I yelled, "and then I'll take those damn stompin' boots right off your cold dead feet!" I shouted, storming the stage, but of course, the Capitol goons grabbed me and pulled me away from the stage.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I went home all proud of myself, she was already dead. I'd see her casket being carried through the district like they do to the dead kids every year. I'd spit and dance on her grave that held her pretty little body.

But then she survived.

Enough people hated me at that point. Some for cheating and abusing their little singing bird, some for trying to storm the stage, and then the entire country when she won.

The pretty little redhead ruined my reputation, ruined my life. That's why I hated her.

I find it perfect that the Capitol dubbed her the Queen of Snakes, because that's exactly what she is. A true snake in the grass. That pretty little girl has no thoughts in her head besides herself. She takes what she wants. What she needs, then, she's gone.

That Will kid, he's one lucky bastard if she's giving it to him, but Becca in all her holiness would never dream of giving him more than a kiss on the cheek. All those years, what I wanted didn't matter. My own urges, my own feelings, she never let me touch her besides holding her hand. Maybe that's why I cheated, I needed a gal who knew how to give me what I wanted.

So now, as she stands on the train platform with the new victors, clad in a yellow, flowy, off-the-shoulder dress covered in rainbow flowers and big golden hoops, the rage is boiling. I stand in the back of the cheering crowd, hands balled into fists at my sides. She stands off to the side, smiling with the town drunk as they watch the victors reunite with their families. For a second, her green eyes meet my brown ones, and we both share a look filled with fire. The rage only grows.

I watched her wait a few minutes until the cameras were turned off before she leapt into Will's arms. He's kissing her cheeks and her forehead and she's giggling, showing him something on her neck that I can't see.

I watched until the crowd moved in and I am left standing alone in the back, eyes hard and rage pumping through my veins.

So, I went home.

I went home and stormed to where my father used to sleep. I pulled the mattress filled with hay up and pulled out my fathers old and illegal revolver. It was silver and had a brown wooden grip. There were engravings of flowers and other things like that. Originally, it was my grandfather's father's, illegally passed down until my dad died.

He used to say only for emergencies, and I guess my family has only had 2 real emergencies, because there were only four bullets left. All I need is one, the other three could be used to kill the witnesses—if there are any.

I waited for a few days, I wanted things to settle down enough. I had to wait until there were no cameras stuck on Victors Village.

Three days I waited, and on the third night I walked up to victor's village in the pouring rain. I let the rain wash over me, like it was washing away all of my good, leaving only the bad. The angry. The rage.

I pushed open the gates as quietly as I could. Luckily for me, it was late, moon was at full rise. The only lights that were on were Becca's.

I placed myself in front of her front door, but still on the road. I picked up a rock and threw it at her door. As soon as I saw the door handle turn, I raised my gun, aimed it at her eyes.

When she opened the door, I reveled in the look of terror she wore on her face. Looking at me, standing in the pouring rain with a gun raised at her head. 

A/N:

...

xoxo, 

regina