Standing before the mirror, my heart raced with trepidation and resolve for someone who had reached a point of no return, where the only path forward was to surrender the sacrifice that lay before me. The mantra echoed in my mind like an echo, a haunting reminder of my choices: 'This is the only way, and there is no alternative. No need to think twice. Your brother needs you. And you're doing this for him. Him only.'
With a steady hand, I reached for the scissors that lay on the table. That cold metal seemed to mock me as I hesitated for one brief moment. Then, with a deep breath, the blades sliced through the precious locks with a soft snipping sound. My hair, my beautiful, beloved hair, which I had fostered and cherished until it descended my back like a river of gold. That now lay scattered on the floor, a sacrifice to the fate that awaits me. It's ok. They are just hairs that you have been maintaining for the past eight years. It's okay.
"I shall stand against this decision," continued the one who cared for me from day one. My aunt. Her depleted eyes try their very best to stop this nonsense while holding onto the armchair to balance her weak, old constitution.
The baloney has just begun is what she's missing. As this won't hold me back. It never should. It never will. I sighed, which, I must say, felt heavy as if there was the presence of a heavy object on my usually referred to as frail body.
A procrastinated approach of mine tried its best to halt me. "Please". The not-so-weak words pass through my tattered lips.
Though it's not like she can stop me anyway. It ought to be presented, that deranged logic of mine. The kind of logic that goes back to the days ready for my demise. I could feel my teeth grinding and my knuckles tightening, but a calm demeanor is what needs to be presented. Gotta get myself fixated on another calming mantra to not flatter the revolving speech that needs to be let out.
"There is no other way." are the only words that make it out alive after going through loads of repetitive thoughts on what to say. At this point, blaming myself won't suffice. I was never good with words anyway. What needs to be said shall be spoken out loud.
I know her well. Though she nods in agreement, similar to most cases, this is not enough to stop her from whining as she turns to look out the window just for a fleeting moment and then stares back at me more like gaping at me with angry eyes. Or are they timid?
"I know. But my girl, you should know this better than me: if you are to be found, then it would be the end of us all."
Her shaking hands are all too visible, as her quivering words come at me like a vexed slap. But I know where my priorities lie and should be. One to ignore anything, literally anything that she speaks and is going to declaim. Because at the end of the day, what needs to be done will be done. An offering. The type that should have no questions.
She can just continue to state her concerns that I'd keep in the back of my mind. I blink for her to see the sort of confirmation that I'm willing to hear from her. Her on-point concerns almost seem like a hassle.
"I know everything. And I shall remind you, a woman is also not allowed to rule a district. Good gracious, not a woman, a girl for heaven's sake! You're already breaking a high rule, and now you're thinking of this impetuous plan of some sort. You'll be breaking 2 rules. I am only... afraid for you.'' The hiccup-filled statements made their way with tears streaking down her cheeks as she made no effort to wipe them clear. This scene has played a lot in my mind to know how she'd be. I know this stupid plan, which of course has no alternative to being stupid enough, is freaking her out. But I'm motivated, as one should.
"I understand your concern, but I can't let him go. He is in no condition to go there. It won't be long till he recovers. I can't and won't let that stupid tutorial ruin it all." My hands holding the scissors tighten, changing hues from warm ivory to white.
This is why I have to take guard. The possibilities are just too slim, not the sort to be taken. I'd rather partake in this with a risk dangling over my head rather than on someone who knows nothing.
My assumption that this might be the end of our so-called debate seems all lost when I see her taking a step forward in my direction with a working mouth. The never-ending wait is something that is just part of life now.
"I also don't want Rosen to go, and I also know how much you cherish him, but you are being forgetful. You do remember what happened a year ago to that girl."
What happened to her I wish never happened to anyone. The actual representation of 'no mercy', charity felt by none. The affinity among the genders is getting out of hand was my first thought. She got buried alive in the district's Army Territory just because of her so-called dream. It was a dream to be a soldier. While some say she was burned, which is all the more crazy. The fear of withers prevails among men. Absurd.
This is one of the reasons that I'm afraid, not of death but of not being able to return. But then again, it's about choices that, for me, are none, unlike her. Time to recover myself from this part; nevertheless, what needs to be vocalized will be.
"Aunt joining the army was her ambition, not mine. It doesn't matter whether it's my desire, dream, or something else. It's only for 2 months; not like I'm going there forever. I know how to take care of myself." So stop for my own sake. It feels as if I'm being held accountable for something that can't be overlooked.
As for my care, it is in my own hands. Not going to doubt whether it's worth flexing or not. But another crucial factor that plays to my advantage is the absence of my brother for a whole decade from all the penetrating eyes that mean harm at most. At least from what I've seen. The only time that made me wary of the people outside of the district.
The same goes for my petty existence, which has never been noteworthy or deserving of recognition. Now I'm happy that I was kept hidden. No one would know that something was amiss as I'd chosen to step forward. Nothing out of the ordinary. This has made me confident in this audacious plan of mine, which some might deem foolish.
As Aunt May returns to her position back near the chair to hold once again that armrest, her gaze cast downward, she neglects to acknowledge my presence, her expression a picture of resignation. A type of look I appreciate and am welcoming.
"You are so like your mother." A subtle murmur from her thrushes in my eardrums like a questionnaire.
I never asked.
The mother I had never met and presumably had killed. A type of unspoken secret that continues to linger and, for me, still adds fuel to my inner anguish.
I continued with the task as I sliced them patiently while ignoring my surroundings. The surroundings in which I continue to be vigilant and strong.