64
Sixty-four. That is exactly how old Nancy is turning today. It feels longer. It feels much longer. It feels like she's on borrowed time, though she knows she's still got at least two more decades ahead of her. If she fights long enough, that is.
Lately, she hasn't been herself. Lately, all she's been doing is taking orders and then being shoved back into a room. As if they were afraid to lose her. But she's not going anywhere. She knows her place. She knows the underground district is toxic to Panem. Their mindset. She knows they were the ones who started the war.
She knows a lot of things. Six decades worth of being on the Earth, and she knows a lot of things. Seen a lot of death, too. Death, pain, and destruction. Way too much for just one woman to hold. Sixty-four years of pain, death, and destruction and one would think that the victor would off herself already. She'd be lying if she said she hasn't thought about it. However, the hope of being able to see the rest of her victors one last time, (even if they are on opposite sides of the spectrum, now) keeps her alive.
She doesn't tell anyone, save for Acacio, because she knows he misses them too. And if she mentions it in front of anyone else she knows she can't trust, they'll punish her. Just like last time. They're practically glued to the hip whenever they're not taking orders and doing propos. They've even been moved into the same apartment. It's nice and they can almost speak freely there.
But not even Acacio comes by to tell her happy birthday. She doesn't mind-- really, she doesn't. She just wishes she was back in Seven. Back in her garden, tending to her rose garden. Making the children happy, doing what she can for other families. She doesn't want to be a tool in this war. She doesn't want this depression that the Capitol has mistakenly brought her. She just wants it to end.
She just wants it to end.
