Hey, I've been submitting tributes for SYOTs for a while now and I desperately needed to write a story on one of them. So, here it is! The life of Lynnia Evers! It's kind of short, but let me no if you like it! If you do, I'll make another chapter and so on. Feel free to PM me if you would like to create some minor characters. Reviews are LOVED!

They say that no child's voice is the same. Some are high, some low. Some are like soft chimes in the wind. Others resemblings the chirps of birds . I wonder what mine sounded like. Hi, my name is Lynnia Evers, but I go by Lyn. I'm 14 years old and I am a mute.

You see, there are many different kinds of mutes. There are deaf people, who can't hear. And since they've never heard words, they don't know how to say them and find other ways to communicate. Other people can't speak due to certain mental illnesses or disabilities.

I've even heard of kids being selectively mute in specific social situations. How I wish I could be like them, having the choice to speak. Then, there are avoxes, who are traitors to the Capitol and are forced to have their tongues cut off. They then spend the rest of their lives serving capitol people, tributs and mentors. Well, I've been quite thankful for my tongue ever since I learned about them in school.

What I have is called traumatic mutism. This is when a child has suffered from a painful event or experience, which has caused them to stop speaking in all situations. It used to be more common (as in, more than one person), but that was a long time ago, before Panem ever existed!

Now, I'm the only known mute in the district, most likely the only traumatic mute in all of Panem. It can be pretty lonely sometimes. Still, I don't like how people act like I can speak if I really wanted to. I can't. Trust me, I've tried for years.

The truth is that I haven't been able to make a sound since my older sister, Rosalyn, died in the Hunger Games. She took care of me more than my own parents did. Rosa was the kind of person who saw the good in everyone. She would look after me while our parents worked. She made up silly games to play and different ways to look at the world. Most of all, she was always there to catch me when I fell.

People never say how I look like my parents because I always remind them of Rosa. Except our eyes. That's the main difference between us. She had beautiful silver eyes, much better than the regular Seam eyes in my opinion. I have my aunt's pale green eyes with flecks of silver from my dad.

Rosa had said that I had starry eyes when I was five, since the green splashed with the silver in a faint star shape. I told her she had sparkle eyes because I liked sparkles and thought her eyes were pretty (I was five, of course). She laughed and rewarded me with a big hug. My sister was always easy to please, since so many things made her happy in life.

There was a significant age difference between us, nine years. My parents had just gotten married when Rosa was concieved. She was the happy accident. My father said that she was one of the most giggly and happy children he'd ever met.

Even all the obstacles of living in the Seam didn't bother her. No money? Oh well, let's work some more! Little food? No problem, I don't eat much anyway! Not much health care? I'll do it myself! Rosa has a happy answer for everything.

I was born when my mother landed a job as an apothecary worker's assistant. Rosa had begged for years to have a little brother or sister with no luck and couldn't be happier at the news. I still don't know what she saw in me that made her so happy. Sometimes, she would just try to entertain me for hours.

Rosa quickly learned how to take care of me and spent just about every waking hour, practicing. My first word wasn't mama or dada. It was rara, which Rosa flipped out about. She had convinced herself it was closest to her name, which I guess it might have been.

When I was two, she taught me how to play peek-a-boo and high five. At three, she would take me to the back yard to pick out pretty flowers. Rosa began to take me to school with her when I was four, since I was beginning to hate saying goodbye to her more and more. Not to mention, it wasn't safe to have a little kid at home alone. She taught me how to make letters, but at first, I didn't understand how they could make words. I didn't think you could make Rosa with an r. You needed a rose and an 'a'.

By five, I understood and could speak clearly, but it was usually to Rosa. She was fourteen by then and hanging out with a lot of her own friends. Still, I think she felt bad about leaving me behind because she stopped hanging out with them so much when I asked her where she went.

No surprises came when I turned six, except that I only wanted to be more like by big sister. Rosa and I enjoyed looking up at the stars, making up shapes and people out of them and of course, she found a game out of it. You had thirty seconds to find something or someone in the stars and thirty more to make up a story about it.

We created the food fairy with the pot of warm soup who would shower our district with treats. I always asked Rosa why she never came, but she would frown and say the food fairy was really busy. Then, there was the archer who protected us from the evil butcher man that wanted to steal all the bread in our district. They were random stories off the top of our heads.

Still, there was one thing that I liked to do the most with Rosa and that was sing. I rarely sung, but she had the voice of a thousand angels. She would always be humming a tune or creating new verses for her songs. But she wouldn't share her songs with just anybody. Nope, that's why I felt so specially around Rosa. She must have taught me a thousand different tunes before she died. I just wish I could actually sing one again.

Once I was nearly seven, our mother said she was pregnant and that we'd be having another sibling. Rosa began to count down the days, take her mother off work and brainstorm an endless list of names. She substituted for my mother at the apothecary shop and worked double shifts.

It was strange seeing my mother so much and my sister so little. My mom and I could have almost been strangers or maybe distant relatives that you don't see too often. I picked flowers in our backyard and weaved them into crowns like Rosa had taught me, giving them to her as presents when she got home from work. Being her fun loving self, she never failed to praise me and decorate our room with them until they wilted.

Our mother gave birth to a healthy baby boy that year. She named him William, but Rosa thought that name was to grown up for such a small child. Mother said he would grow into it.

They got into a bit of an argument with that, but my sister came up with the perfect solution. "I'm calling him Willie!" she'd said with pride. After all, Rosa was incredibly stubborn, especially when it came to her family. My mother gave up on trying to convince her of the name William and even let her and I pick out the middle name. That was how Willie Aspen Evers came to be.

We now had a third in our group, but Rosa had enough love for the both of us.

The last memory I have is her sad smile as the peace keepers took me away. She ended up making it to the final eight, which was more than expected from a 16 year old from 12.

A district 1 career stabbed his sword into her abdomen. His appearance burned into my mind. He was quite muscular, with platinum blonde hair and hard brown eyes. A thin scar trailed from his temple to his jaw. The sword to her abdomen didn't kill her, at first. She was strong, but she could only taken so much.

I remember watching the boy's sinister smile as her striked her again, finishing the job. After that, I got sick and fell into a bit of an emotional depression. My parents didn't know what to do and looking back on it all, I wouldn't have known what to do either. My sister laughter echoed in my mind. The career's smirk crept into my night mares. I stopped eating, stopped talking and completely shut myself out from the world.

That was until the day my baby brother, William, crawled into my room. My father was at work and my mother was speaking with a peace keeper about Rosa's token. When I looked into his eyes, I saw the same sparkle eyes that Rosa had. I think that was what kept me going. The fact that someone needed me, depended on me. I decided he never really looked like a William to begin with.

Rosa was right. He needed a good older sister, so that his sparkle eyes would always shine. It's what Rosalyn would've wanted me to do and what I haven't failed at yet.

Let me know how you like it!