Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Reflection
One..two…
The pace of my fingers gliding across the keys is loud enough to drown the sounds of the distant cries of my mother upstairs. It is cruel of me to think this way, but it is draining to help a woman who doesn’t even see me as who I am. To my mother, I am the reincarnate of Maysilee Donner—a miracle amidst her death in the arena over twenty years ago.
My mother’s cries range from simple delusions to derangement.
“Maysilee..is it time to eat? Is father in town?”
“Maysilee.. Is it time for school?”
I can deal with my mother when she is like this. Even from a young age, I understood the role I played in her life. It was easy to pretend grandpa was running late as I carried her plate up to her room, it was easy saying the names of the parents in the town fabricating school tales, it was easy being Maysilee Donner.
But the days when my mother’s morphling supply is at a low. Pretending to be the shattered reflection of Maysilee is unbearable.
I remember once this fall, I entered my mother’s room to tell her about my day at school. I remember her hollowed eyes growing from a disassociated gaze to one that was pure torment. The way she held me close as she destroyed the items in her bedroom. Her desperate screams of “Where is the blood on your neck?” as she attempted to cling onto my neck in an attempt to confirm why her dead sister wasn’t bleeding out.
The pain was bearable, the blood I drew was bearable. But the deep pain etched into her eyes continues to haunt me to this day.
Because of the bruises on my neck, my father forbade me from seeing my mother when she was in this state. I was banned from seeing my own mother. So when my mother screams in her bedroom, I go to my piano.
At this moment I am simply just Madge playing the piano.
The sounds of the piano bring me to another world. Katniss has the forest as her escape, my escape lies within the walls of my home, in the space between my fingers and the keys of the piano.
Part of me wishes I could stay in this small world forever, drowning in the sea of tranquility my music brings me. I know once my fingers stop, I will be forced to settle into the limbo between Madge and Maysilee. Never fully one or the other. It’s selfish but I wish I could kill the idea of Maysilee, but her fate continues to loom over the heads of the household.
Every year I grow into her appearance. I see myself wearing her pin, standing amongst the other children forced to fight to the death. I see my neck bleeding out as I yell for my partner’s name. I wish I had my mother in these moments, I wish I could hold and beg her to take these nightmares away. But I suppose my mother also died the moment little Maysilee bled to death.
A knock brings me back to reality. It must be Sunday, strawberry day. I get up and walk to the door where I see the heavy glare of Gale and the soft smile of Katniss.
“Freshly picked today, the strawberries are ripe and in good quality,” Katniss says as she brings the basket to my gaze.
“They’re always great quality” I chime back with a smile.
Gale continues to glare at me as if I personally created class divisions in 12. He doesn’t speak, he just looks at me. From what I can tell he looks tired judging by the dark circles around his eyes, the slight cuts on his hands from setting up his snares, and the tenseness in his stance. His dirty clothes contrast the frills of my blue dress. Katniss elbows him causing him to shift his gaze away from me.
I awkwardly grab the coins off the table next to the door as I pass them to Katniss. Any moment with Gale makes me want to gauge my eyes out. I prefer it when he takes a dig at me, at least I am allowed to react then. But when he silently seethes at me, it's just uncomfortable.
“Thank you, I hope you two have a nice day” I force a smile out, appearances are a must.
“Thanks, Madge, I’ll see you at school,” Katniss says warmly as she begins to walk down the steps.
Gale's eyes linger inside my house, and he doesn’t walk away immediately like he usually does.
“Pretty song” he mumbles to me before he descends the steps. His tone is genuine, and it doesn’t sound as if it was lined to antagonize me.
Oh?