I Dare You To Guess How She Died - Tumblr Posts

Here you go @randosfandos and @baxieblur-turnip since you wanted it so much I'm ENSURING you see it the second you check your notifs

SNOWBIRD: CHAPTER II

I shower, scrubbing my sweaty body. The breeze from the roof of the Justice Building air-dried me slightly, but it feels nice to finally be showering. My hair isn't especially dirty, and it's irritating trying to dry it, so I make a conscious effort to keep it away from the water. The soap smell is soothing. I can't quite place it.

I scrub my face. I get soap in my eyes. I no longer feel happy about the soap. I wash the soap off of me and out of my eyes as I think about today. It's the day of the Reaping, meaning I need to be prepared, just like every year, to potentially be sent to die.

Or watch someone I care about get sent to die... Yumi would tell me that she loves me in a situation like this. She did every year before she passed away.

Yumi. My older sister. Never did well as a Career. Yumi was gentle, empathetic. A bleeding heart, even. She couldn't bear to hurt anyone. If someone hit her, she'd ask them why instead of hitting back.

I step out of the shower, wrapping my towel around my torso. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Yumi and I didn't look similar to each other. Yumi's nose was softer and rounder, her eyes kinder. Yumi's hair was a dusty black, much lighter than my charred colour. Yumi was cheerful and radiated warmth and welcoming.

I can't stop seeing her instead of me when I look in a mirror, though. I knew Yumi's face as well as I know Sera's. I know that while her eyes were warmer, they were still as narrow and catlike as mine are. They still looked just as harsh in the wrong lighting.

I know that while Yumi's default expression was a soft smile, her anger still looked the same as mine. Anger was so rare, so jarring, that I couldn't help but memorise it.

I know that while I rarely smile at anyone but Sera, Yumi had dimples and creases identical to mine. I can't stand to smile at my reflection anymore. It's impossible not to see Yumi.

Sometimes I wonder if Sera sees Yumi in my smile as well. I wonder if she loves her exactly the same as I do. I wonder if she blames me exactly the same as I do.

I wonder if Sera sees Yumi in her own smile also. Yumi's narrow face didn't especially resemble Sera's, but Sera's eyes and Yumi's were similar browns, although Sera's eyes practically glow from the inside. Sera's smile has the same comforting quality as Yumi's.

Yumi was just as good with people as Sera, just as patient as Sera. Just as kind. Just as sweet. Just as trusting.

I wanted to be like her when I was younger. I know now that Yumi's thinking never did anything good for her. She needed to be vicious. Capable of taking a life. She wasn't, not when it mattered most.

I'll give her that. Yumi passed on her own terms. Yumi knew what she wanted. Yumi stuck with it. With her love for humanity. She's braver than me in that sense.

She was so much like Sera, it's almost like they're the same person. Perhaps that was the reason I got so close with Sera after Yumi died.

Or maybe the reason was because Sera loved Yumi, too, and felt her loss as much as I did.

There's a lump in my throat. My vision blurs slightly. I wipe my eyes, clearing my throat. I splash cold water on my face. Today, of all days, is a bad time to think of Yumi.

I violently scrub my face again, this time with my towel to dry it. I look up into the mirror by accident. My fringe is completely soaked. My eyes are reddened. There's a brief flash of Yumi's face across my vision, angry and full of hate.

It's gone as quick as it arrived. I hurriedly turn away from the mirror. I dry myself, keeping the mirror behind me the whole time.

After I'm no longer sticky, I pick up my clothes from the floor and start to get changed. A nice button-up and trousers. The shirt is grey, and the trousers are white, both slightly worn as they originally belonged to... I glance at the mirror again.

Yumi glares at me. She sniffs and wipes her nose as she finishes putting the clothes she wore on the day of the Reaping on. I leave the bathroom, and my sister, behind.

Sera is sitting on my bed, toying with her hands anxiously. Her eyes are trained on my clock, watching every second quietly thunk by. The sound of the clock is almost muffled by her uneven breathing and the occasional thump of her heel when her bouncing leg makes contact with the floor.

She smiles up at me when she notices me in the doorway, stopping her jittering. Her hands continue to shake slightly, as does her leg. Her eyes dart to what I'm wearing, then back up to my face again.

Her smile vanishes, if only for a moment. It's back so quickly, it's almost like she didn't react at all. She remembers, then. Well, how could she have forgotten?

Yumi was just as much Sera's sister as she was mine. If Sera wasn't at my house to talk to me, she was here to talk to Yumi. If Yumi was out, chances were that she'd be doing something with Sera.

Sera screamed louder than I did. Sera's grief was known. Sera gained sympathy.

Such an apathetic child...

No reaction whatsoever..?

Her sister...

How awful...

A monster, that's for sure...

I block out the whispers of District Four as I sit down next to Sera. As she always does when we are close like this, she leans into me. I put my arm around her and let her rest her head in the crook of my neck. She sighs deeply, her breathing calming down.

I know how deeply Sera craves the comfort of touch. I have always been averse. In general, if someone is making contact with my skin, it's because they're trying to hit me until I don't get back up.

But I also know how good it feels to be near to Sera. For our hands to be locked together, for our shoulders to be touching, for her breath to be on my neck.

Sera is gently gripping the hand attached to the arm I'm holding her with. She carefully traces lines along my palm with her thumbs, following the creases. Sera likes repetitive things like that.

There are a million things I could say to Sera. But just like every year, I don't need to say any of them. Now is not a time for words. Words come later. Words come after. And some words come never.

Words used to express relief. Words used to state gratitude. It's considered awful luck to say things like that. Especially when the people selected only have a one-in-twenty-four chance of coming home.

No matter what, there'll always be at least one grieving family. Sera's family has always been so lucky. Seth, Sera's brother, is only about a year older than I am. He's too old for the Reaping now. He's never been pulled.

Sera hasn't been pulled before, either. I hope she stays that way. I don't know what I'd do if she didn't. I've never thought about it, either. If I think about something like that, it starts getting hard to breathe.

I can't really think about it. My thoughts just won't go there, and if I force them to, they don't stay for long. I don't like it. I stay away from things like that. They belong at the very back of my mind with everything else.

I don't have to worry about that. Sera won't be pulled. I won't be pulled again. We're going to be okay.

Sera's switched from massaging my palm to fiddling with the hem of Yumi's shirt. She's started her gnawing of her lower lip, the already damaged skin bleeding slightly.

Her eyes flick to my clock again. I once again hear her breathing grow uneven as some degree of panic sets in. I squeeze her a little tighter, pull her a little closer.

Sera tears her eyes from the clock. Sera has a death grip on Yumi's shirt. I gently pry her fingers off, squeezing her hand when Yumi's shirt is free. Sera's tenderising of her lip ceases. Sera sighs and surrenders as we fall over together on my bed.

Sera adjusts herself to be resting her head on my chest, her feet hanging off the edge of my bed. Sera only ever wears one pair of shoes. A clunky pair of worn leather boots that fall off her feet at every possible occasion. They slide off, one actually hitting the floor while the other clings for dear life onto her ankle.

I hope my heartbeat doesn't speed up too much. It'll probably make Sera's head bounce if it does. I let my head fall back onto my pillow, my neck already hurting from my observation of Sera's boots.

Sera starts to toy with my hair, running it through her hands. She's always loved to compliment how shiny it is, how smooth I keep it. She always goes on to say how she wished she could have her hair as tidy and clean and nice-to-the-touch as mine.

I never said anything to her. Perhaps I should have. I would have liked to tell her that her tousled mess was charming. That it framed her face. That it brought out her smile.

I would not have liked to tell her that it made her look like Yumi, who wore her unkempt, unruly disaster in almost the exact same way. I don't think Sera remembers, but her hair was kept neat once, too.

Back when Yumi was still alive and Sera's mother was still around. Sera saw her family a lot more when she was younger, her brother not yet graduated, and her father not totally responsible for their income.

She had to brush her hair every couple of hours and apply some sort of gel to it, but it stayed in place. The kind of cutesy style that made little girls an object of affection for all the little boys.

She was maybe around seven when she properly met Yumi. She had come over to my house and accidentally walked into Yumi's room, briefly forgetting which was mine.

Yumi was fourteen at the time. She had been so sweet with Sera. By the time I realised that Sera had gotten lost somewhere, she was already playing some sort of complex game that involved knots with Yumi.

I tried to join. I wasn't good with knots then. I'm better now, but I still struggle with complicated ones. Sera has always been so talented with her hands. She's always had such nimble fingers.

I finally tied a knot. Yumi couldn't untie it. Neither of our parents could untie it. Sera couldn't untie it. That memory has resulted in this sweet mental image. Of Yumi sitting on the floor of her room, her little sisters next to her, puzzling over a knot tied by the least competent one.

That mutual lack of understanding for how I created such a thing was a building block for their relationship. I don't quite remember what became of the knot. I believe I gave it to Sera.

Sera has always admired Yumi. Sera saw the way Yumi wore her hair and decided it was the most amazing thing she had ever seen. She mimicked Yumi in other, smaller ways that she still does to this day.

A little flick of the hand here, a tonal shift there. Sera saw how Yumi played with her hair when nervous and started doing it herself. She does it automatically now, pinching and rolling her blonde locks between her thumb and forefinger.

I absently run my hands through Sera's curls. My fingers snag on knots, and I hear Sera wince as I work them out. I groan.

"Sera, did you brush your hair this morning?"

Sera doesn't respond. She's pretending to be asleep. I know from experience that Sera takes at least ten minutes to fall asleep; it hasn't even been three. I sit up, Sera sliding down my chest, then sitting up as well.

Sera won't meet my eyes. I sigh and rub her face.

"You need to take care of yourself, Sera," I say, disappointed but not surprised. Sera tends to neglect things like this. Only small things, and she doesn't really resist, but she doesn't do them if she's not prompted.

Brushing her hair is a bad one. She almost never does it. I have to do it for her most of the time. Once, I didn't see her for four days because of an especially busy week for both of us.

It took me ten minutes to clean the accumulated grime off of her body and at least an hour to work the knots out of her hair. I scolded her the entire time for her forgetfulness. I wasn't surprised that her family didn't remind her, considering that her father and Seth were out fishing for a good three days. I assume Sera avoided them on day four.

"I know, Rumes. I'm sorry," she mumbles. "It's just... I didn't have the time this morning." Sera's excuse is flimsy. I stand up and walk over to my dresser, locating my hairbrush. I walk back over to my bed and sit down. Sera obediently turns to show me the back of her head.

I start to slowly run the brush through her tangled mop.

"I think we both know that isn't true, Sera." I'm not trying to be accusing. But I'm not trying to be nice.

Sera winces, both at the fact that I've caught her and because of the knot the brush has just caught on. It rips out a little of her hair as I work it through.

"I... It's..." Sera sighs. "It's a little hard, you get it?"

I don't. I really don't get it. Self-care has never given me any trouble, but I don't dare mention this to Sera. Telling Sera she's strange for not washing her face won't help her. Reminding her that she needs to do it will.

I've never been completely certain if her poor care of herself was because of her faulty memory or something else. I'd love to blame it on her memory, but Sera's general... erraticness is probably to blame.

She'll start tasks and forget about them entirely, she'll lose track of time, she'll forget to drink water... It's not really a surprise that she forgets important things anymore. She remembers to eat, at least. That removes some level of worry I have for her.

"Yes," I lie. This seems to reassure Sera. A part of her hair bounces back into shape as I finish pulling the brush through. I start again at my next chosen section, running my hands through what I've brushed. For a long time, there is no sound but our breathing and the soft, gentle noise of the brush through Sera's hair.

"You remembered to wash it. That's good," I say aloud, recalling its pleasant smell and softness when I hugged her earlier. I should have praised her then.

"Thank you," says Sera, a little uncertain. I regret speaking almost immediately.

Sera sighs and fidgets. Her other boot fell off at some point.

"You look like her, you know," she says quietly. I force the brush so hard through her hair it slightly yanks her head back. It was an accident. I hope.

"Sorry." There's a long silence.

"You really do, though. You look like Yumi," Sera finishes.

"Can we not talk about this, Sera?" I ask. Sera huffs.

"You can't just pretend she doesn't exist because she isn't around anymore," says Sera, more certain this time.

"I'm not," I respond levelly.

"Then w-w-why do you keep acting like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you never cared." I yank the brush suspended in Sera's hair.

"Hey, look at that. It's stuck," I say, letting go of it. It remains in Sera's hair. She reaches around to the back of her head and pulls it free, handing it back to me.

"Stop doing that, Rumi," she says, sounding like she's dealing with a small child.

"Doing what?" I ask, starting to brush Sera's hair again. Sera sighs.

"You know exactly w-w-what I'm talking about, Rumes. Don't change subjects to avoid things," she says. I don't avoid things. I'm not avoiding anything.

I voice this. Sera sighs again.

"You do, though, Rumes. You are. It's okay if you miss her. I do, too," says Sera. I finish brushing her hair and throw my hairbrush at my back wall. It thunks onto my dresser again.

"Can we just not, Sera?" Sera turns around to face me.

"I think w-w-we should, though," she says. I don't want to listen to her anymore. "I think w-w-we need to talk about her."

"We don't. There's nothing more we could say," I mutter.

"Rumi, you get so... distant. Around this time of year, you just avoid talking about her entirely."

"Have you ever thought that maybe I don't want to talk about a dead woman?" I snap.

"Yeah. Lots," Sera responds softly. "But you talk about her." I stiffen.

"You like to mention her from time to time, anyw-w-way," says Sera. "You joke about how Yumi w-w-would do this, Yumi w-w-would like that, blah blah blah."

I turn away from Sera, no longer enjoying this conversation.

"Rumes, you talk about her like she's just... aw-w-way," says Sera thoughtfully. "And I think that's good, I do, because -"

"Stop." Sera sighs softly.

"Rumes, can w-w-we just talk -"

"Stop."

"Rumi, it's not healthy to bottle these things up. If you don't w-w-want to talk now, that's fine, but -"

"I don't want to talk about it at all," I interject. "I don't need to, I don't want to, I won't. It's that simple." Sera needs to drop it. I'm fine. I'm acting normal. I always behave like this.

"She died for a good reason, okay? And I think w-w-we -"

"A good reason? You think it was good?" I interrupt. Sera looks startled.

"Rumes, that's not w-w-what I -"

"Oh? It's not w-w-w-w-what you m-m-m-eant?!" I shout, imitating her stammer.

"Rumi..." Sera's definitely upset. I've crossed a line. I don't care. Maybe she deserves it, just this once.

"Why don't we all just celebrate, huh?! 'Cause Yumi's dead! That's GREAT!"

"Rumi, just stop..." Sera mumbles.

"Sorry, you'll have to speak up! I can't hear you under all those extra letters!" I find the wound and tear it open.

"Rumi, w-w-w-why are you -"

"Oh, get to the point! How hard is it to talk?!" Sera flinches. She pinches the crooked part of her nose. She always does that when she gets self-conscious.

"Rumi, please just calm down," says Sera, voice gaining a pleading quality. I ignore this.

"Calm down?! You want me to calm down?!"

Sera's eyes start to water.

"Oh, don't you start crying AGAIN! You're so bloody emotional all the time!"

"You don't even have emotions!" she snaps back. Sera gets up off my bed.

"Maybe the reason you act like you don't care is because you really don't!" My sheets are pulled taught as I clench my hands. Sera angrily kicks her foot into one of her boots, looking for the other one. "Maybe you didn't cry at her funeral because you didn't love her!"

"Of course I loved her! She was my sister!" I shout, following Sera as I kick her boot from my bed into my wall. She snatches it off the floor and slams her foot into it.

"She w-w-was my sister, too!" Sera shoots back.

"No! No, she wasn't! Yumi was never your sister! No matter how close you think you were, you were never her sister!"

That's hurt her. She stops for a moment, tears threatening to start rolling down her cheeks.

"I loved her. Doesn't that mean something?" For just a moment, I feel a sliver of regret. It vanishes.

"Doesn't mean anything. You never meant anything to her," I snarl. This is untrue. Yumi did truly care about Sera. But now I just want to hurt her. Sera mumbles something.

"Huh? Speak up!" I demand. "You wanna say something? Say it to my face!"

"At least I'm not the reason she's dead," she says. There's utter silence.

"What?" Sera is completely crying now.

"At least," she repeats. "I'm not," she continues. "The reason she's dead."

"So you're saying it's my fault, then?"

Silence.

"N- no, I... No, I'm sorry. I got angry."

"No, I get it."

"Rumes, please, I didn't mean it. It w-w-wasn't your fault."

"It was, though. It's my fault. And it's always going to be my fault."

"It's not! I got angry! I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've never been that angry before. I'm sorry. If it's any-w-w-one's fault, it's mine. I could've -"

"Just stop, Sera."

"Rumes..."

"You can go now, Sera."

"But -"

"You can go now, Sera. Go home. Say hi to Seth for me."

Sera nods. She tries to hug me. I gently push her away.

"I'm sorry, Rumes."

"So am I." Sera opens the door.

Sera hesitates, standing in the doorway.

"Yumi w-w-would have said you look nice."

The door closes.