Quell

The District Six floor is beyond anything that I could ever imagine. Everything is sleek and shiny. It smells fresh and clean and new. The smell is suffocating me, but Theo is running around like an overexcited child.

"Brenna, look at this!" he yelped, gesturing wildly at a model train that is flashing around the room. "And the view, wow, look!" Aphrodite Sunburst titters.

"Goodness gracious," she says, her voice a grating squeak. "It's as if you've never seen the Capitol before!" We look at her incredulously. She titters again and I have to resist the urge to slap her across the face. I turn and storm away, realizing too late that I have no idea where I'm going. I can't stop or turn around or ask for help - I'm too proud, and too angry, and it would be too embarrassing - so I push open the nearest door and stalk inside. It is a bedroom, conveniently enough. The bed is huge, easily the size of the main room in my apartment at home. There is an extravagant bathroom, a walk-in closet with too many outfits to even begin choosing from, and an enormous screen that is projecting an image of trees onto it. The sound of leaves crunching in the wind and birds squawking pours out of the speakers on the ceiling.

Trees scream danger to me because I've never been out of District 6, and District 6 is entirely urban. Trees are unknown and scary and dark. Trees hide things.

I am much more comfortable when I'm surrounded by shadowy alleys and tall buildings and the smell of engine grease and hot pavement.

There is a remote on the table next to me, and I pick it up and press the button. With a soft swish, the image of trees disappears and is replaced by fields of golden wheat. The tree noises stop and the sound of rustling plants starts. I push the button again. Swish, a long strip of white sand and blue water. Swish, mountains and a campfire. Swish, the streets of the Capitol. Swish, swish, swish, until at last I find myself staring at a city skyline. I feel an ache in my chest. The buildings are tall and concrete and the way things are meant to be. I zoom in on the city and navigate around, looking at the public squares, the busy crowds, the togetherness of the people walking around within their community. All I want is to go back home. Even the hunger and the long hours in the Wheel House and the substance-abusing parents is better than this luxury.

Because although the luxury is wonderful and beautiful and awe-striking, it is not home.

I want to go home.

I want to die on my own terms, not on the terms of the Capitol.

At least in District 6 I could choose.