It is not too often i find my thoughts so clearly gathered in my head as they are now. They seem to rush out of my head, and I find the tears slowly rolling down my cheeks.
I want to be loved. I want deep, passionate love. I want to make love, to someone I care about.
I think this as I lie between my silk sheets in the Victor's Village.
The thinking comes from yet another message from the President himself. On Monday I am to have another 'appointment' with one of his clients. The man who must be the highest bidder. The man who has just paid an exorbitant amount to spend the night with me. The man that will, no doubt, thrust into me without reservation or a second thought for how it will screw me up mentally, fingers prodding here, there and everywhere, kisses meaningless, no passion in the moment just a reminder of how much my limbs still ache from my last encounter. They are so full of themselves when it is over. It is all they talk about for weeks.
That is all these men are after. One thing. The body of a desirable Victor. This is all endless amounts of clients will want from me. I will never experience passionate lovemaking, have someone kiss me like they mean it.
(And if I were to find love, im sure the President would have something to say about it)
That is why I have come to know the only comfort, the only happiness and the only embrace enough to take the pain away if only for a short while is that of my older brother. Gloss understands what I go through, because we have been on the same journey and have the same scars. He is scarred from such encounters too. Surely it makes sense we seek the only happiness we are allowed in the world in each other's arms?
(After everything I have been through, I do not; frankly give a shit what anyone would have to say about it)
I don't want to be used and then replaced like a broken ragdoll, ready for the next person to come and fuck me up. I don't want these men; their purplish faces puffed up with pride that they get to take such a beautiful victor. I want a man, one man who will love me and take care of me, see beyond my looks and into my heart and show me there is a world beyond the ugly reality I live in, a reality coated in the jewels I buy from the money I receive from my encounters. I am cold, yes, but only because time has forced me to be and because I was a foolish believer in the fairytale lifestyle when I was younger. I was the princess; my brother played the prince charming and rescued me from the tower, or the wicked witch. It strikes me tonight how much those innocent childish games mirror our lives now.
The men I deal with on a day to day basis are harsh, blunt, here for one thing only. I cannot speak up, tell them I don't like what they're doing to me, tell them to stop because then where would I be?
It strikes me how easy it is to pick up, drop and damage a person.
My brother is my prince charming. Who can love me the way I need. Because I am not allowed to love anyone else. And after the way these men treat me, why would I want to? I cannot trust anybody. They are all the same.
I will never love anyone because of what the Capitol do to me.
But I play along; act like I enjoy giving my body and mind away every night. It's the only way.
But I have my brother. I will always have my brother.