For the March/April challenge. I was assigned to write about the life of a citizen of District 10. This is what I came up with over the time of this challenge. The ending wasn't what I originally planned for it to be but I felt it was better and more age appropriate than reading about a young girl hanging herself from the rafters of a barn. I also felt that this ending showed how scarring the Games can be on a person the loss they feel after making it out. Hope you all enjoy :)
Until Next Time,
Amara Kingley
Morning came too early for me. The sun that seeped through the curtained windows blinded my sleepy eyes and sent my head diving under the pillow. But this pillow wasn't the straw one with the horses stitched into it that I've had since I was little. This pillow that I had my head buried under was silk, a Capitol pillow. I hated this pillow. I unburied my head and threw the pillow across the room. I wanted to scream. For once I had no nightmares but it didn't matter because I was living one. Everything reminds me of the Capitol, what they had done. Everything; the sheets, the dresser, the walls, the floor, all coated in a layer of blood and the memories come back then.
Blood, so much blood. It stained the grass and the rocks. Everything drowned in it. I was covered in it, his blood. His blood forever stained in the creases of my hands and caught under my finger nails. I knew him. We were in the same class at school. He was very good at math. He worked in the same stables as I did. I always watched him out in the fields. A smile was always on his face as he chased the cattle back into the pen. I could never get them inside. A knock at my door woke me from my nightmare.
"Erin it's 6. Get up and come downstairs."
"Yes Mother." I croak out, struggling to find my voice.
I was given a closet full of Capitol clothing but I never wear them. I let them sit on the hangers to gather dust. I preferred my old clothes. My plaid shirts and worn jeans gave me comfort in ways that remind me of that I am still me. Today was one of those days where they offered me no comfort, no reminder of the stable girl from District 10. My frayed jeans held the memories of jumping fences to catch an escaped goat or chicken, gave me no reminder of the time before. My clothes hung limply on my body but I felt constricted. I may as well bust out the Capitolian attire in the closet that was 3 sizes too small. I kept my old clothes on but pulled at the stiffness I felt in them as I padded down the stairs and into the kitchen.
The smell of breakfast filled my nose. Mother loved to cook. She was never fully satisfied with the stove we had at the house I grew up in. It couldn't cook the fancier dishes she wanted to make. We wouldn't have been able to cook those dishes with the grain and oil we received for our yearly ration. Even with that handicap she never failed to put a good, flavorful meal on the table. The kitchen in this house was more than Mother could have ever imagined. The groceries I was able to buy for her always kept her in that kitchen. She loved it and it was the only reason I agreed to move into the Victor's Village. I couldn't keep her from her love any longer. She was there at the stove frying something in those silver pans. She smiles as I come into the kitchen.
"Morning sweetie. Hungry? I'm frying up some potatoes." Her smile was genuine, not one of those fake smiles plastered on faces pretending to be glad I came home. I hear their whispers. The ones that call me 'murderer.'
"Sure. Where is everyone?" Mother scoops p some of the potatoes onto a plate and places it in front of me.
"Dad's out in the fields. The sheep got out of their pen and into the pasture. Matthew is already at the stables for the morning shift." I took a bite of the potatoes. They were soft and tasted of salt.
"Maybe I'll head out and give Dad a hand with those sheep. I know how stubborn they can be." Mother gave a nervous sigh. Working has been my only sense of worth, my only purpose. The livestock was my life in the past. People depended on me to provide them with the food they needed. Lately though everything reminds me of the arena and my mental state has slowly deteriorated. The livestock remind me of the evil creatures that lurked in the dark devouring defenseless tributes, men holding branding irons and rope of the blood thirsty tributes coming to kill, and the pasture of the blood stained grass of the arena. My time out there has been limited because of it. I enjoy my time out there as much as I can. Who knows how much longer I can be out there.
"Alright. I don't think it'd be too much of an issue. But come right back inside if you don't feel well." Mother says finally caving in. I smiled a bit and shoved the last bit of breakfast into my mouth. I slip on my work boots that live by the front door and almost crash into a Capitolian, a hand raised to knock on the door.
"Oh sorry. I didn't see you. If you're looking for an interview my mother is inside. She would be happy to make you an appointment for me…." The man clears his throat before reaching into his bag that was strung over his shoulder and pulling out an envelope.
"That won't be necessary, ma'am. I have just come to deliver this from the president." I take the letter from him and opened the cream envelope with Miss Erin Carter printed in the front in perfect looped letters. The envelope contained one piece of thick parchment which I drop after reading its contents. My hands clenched my head and I scream.
OoO
I never went out to help herd the escaped sheep. The Capitolian was shocked my ear busting screams and left as quickly as he could. Mother ran from the kitchen to find me in the fetal position clutching my head screaming my head off. She had pulled me into her lap shushing me as she stroked my hair and rocked me back and forth. I remember falling asleep at some point. I didn't wake up until the next morning. I was still in the clothes I had worn the day before, creased and wrinkled from sleep. I shake my head to knock the sleep away. I clumsily walk down the steps that lead to the kitchen. Dad and Matt were eating and talking in whispers. I could barely hear what they were saying but I caught the words "cruel" and "ridiculous." Mother was in the kitchen hacking mercilessly at some potatoes.
"Morning." They all stopped in the middle of what they were doing, words unfinished and knife half way down in its strike.
"Morning sweetheart. Sleep well?" Dad asks with a slight smile. He has on one of those fake plastered on smiles that usually piss me off but with the current situation it was more reassuring than the primer.
"Alright I guess. Did you have any trouble with those sheep?"
"Eh, not too much," he said with a shrug. "Though Bessie sure did get me in the huevos pretty good." I laugh at the image of the fattest sheep we had, which we code named Bessie, rearing up and kicking my father in the balls. I hadn't laughed like this in so long. It feels good, better than crying. Nostalgia fills the kitchen and memories of the time before fill my head. Two year-old Matt crawling on the floor with a wooden train, Mother in the kitchen cooking dinner, and Dad sitting in his chair in the corner of the living room, reading a book. Tears wheal up in my eyes but the laughter covers the overwhelming sadness that produced those tears.
"Are you going to do it?" Matt asks suddenly through the laughter.
"Do what?" I respond my laughter calming down.
"You know what I'm talking about." He says, eyes turning dark.
"No I don't. Just tell me what-" Matt slams his hand down.
"Erin! Are you really going to let them control you? Are you really going to let them force you watch kids die?" My smile fell from my face.
"How did you-"
"Oh c'mon Erin!" He yells, cutting me off. "We've all read it! Those Capitol bastards are making a fool out of you!"
"Matthew!" Mother cried.
"It's true Mother." He snapped. "How can she let them bend her will and force her to watch kids die every year? Put their blood on her hands. It's criminal!"
"Matt." I begin. "There is nothing I can do. They own me. I can't say no to them. You know what will happen if I do." The frustration is visible on his face. My words were true. I can't do anything about it and I have to accept that if I ever can.
"There has to be something we can do." The silence that follows confirms that there was nothing that could be done.
"I'm not going to get you all killed for my stupidity." I say, standing up from the table and heading for the stairs. I say, "I'm going to go get ready for morning shift," and head up the stairs.
I dress in silence. I leave the Capitol clothes alone though I will probably have to bust them out soon. I plait my hair into two braids down the sides of my head. I never really bothered to style my hair like most girls did. I stopped trying after my hair wouldn't stay in the pins and the fact that it got in the way out in the stables. I went down stairs after I was satisfied with the braids, slipped on my work boots and headed out to the stables.
The stables of District 10 are shabby wooden complexes that honestly should have fallen down long ago. They could never efficiently hold the animals and feed that was needed. Feed was usually stored in sacks on the ground of the feed room and they often got in the way of mixing the feeds but there was no way around it. But these stables were my home. The place where I could let my mind wander and get lost in the daily tasks. The smell of manure hit me like a train that newbies's untrained noses would squish to. The years that I have spent helping my dad allowed my nose to grow accustom to the harsh smell. The few horses that we had neighed in displeasure for being ignored for the night. There were very few of these bad boys in Panem. Most are in the stables of the Capitol, trained to entertain the Capitolians. Most were used as racers and the others to entertain children at parties or fairs. They are exploited and humiliated, painted different colors and dressed up in outrageous costumes, abusing them when they don't do what they want them to. And here we are, only two horses at our disposal to help raise the food they will consume and they are slowly killing the animals we need with their mindless bullshit.
I fill the horses' feed buckets and head outside to the chicken coop. The hens cluck to their chicks when I got close and dozens of yellow fluff balls scurry to the wire fence trying to be the first to get the feed I was there to deliver. It's hard not to step on the fluff balls as I step through the gate. Dozens of the chickens pecking at my legs and flapping about wanting the food I have in my pail.
"Alright you guys, alright. Here you are." I chuckle, sprinkling seed on the ground. The chickens turn their attention from my ankles to the feed on the ground and happily cluck as they fill their stomachs.
"The livestock are priority over your life," they told us. Without the livestock, the Capitol suffers. If the Capitol suffers, the District suffers tenfold. Therefore, the people starve to feed the Capitol. People are so underfed that their bones begin to show through their clothes. "The Capitol must and foremost be the number one priority." We must work so they don't. Now that doesn't seem fair now does it?
I pass by the practice ring that we sometimes use when the Capitol sends us unruly horses and cattle. I used to watch him here. He was always good with horses. The most worst off horse would be healed and learn to trust people again with his touch. He was so gentle, so kind. I would watch him from the hill with the tree behind the ring. It was a little far away but I preferred that. It kept me away from spying eyes and I could see all his movements and tricks to get the horse to trust him. He would always get angry at the other girls of the District. Their squealing and swooning always spooked the horses he was working on and set him back to square one. I never really minded when he was set back. It gave me more time to watch him work.
"The pride of District 10," I whisper.
The toll of the 10 'o clock bell woke me from my memories. I quickly went back to the barn to finish my work before the afternoon group comes in. The beginning of spring is the season for livestock; butcher season. Livestock is always being sent to the butcher but spring seems to be the season where most of our livestock are shipped of and the birth of the new group to raise. With the rush of new animals, our duties are broken up into shifts so there is always someone looking after the younger livestock. Matt and I used to get the evening shift so it wouldn't interfere with out schooling. Matt still gets the evening shift but I, being the Victor and no longer need to attend classes, get the morning shift. It astonished the Capitol when it was known that I still worked with the animals. They couldn't believe that I, their precious Victor, would be working with filthy animals and the dirty people that raise them. I had just smiled and laughed saying that if I wanted it done right, I had to do it myself. It was all a lie. I couldn't do it all on my own. I'm just a stable girl. Not involved with the livestock unless I'm feeding, grooming or milking them. Many others are more directly involved and do more than I. Makes me feel useless, that my face is the only thing going for me.
Noon came and my shift ended. I usually take more shifts to occupy my time but the stables are pretty crowded and I'd only just get in the way. I would go help Mother in the kitchen and around town when she needed it but with the blow out this morning, I really didn't feel like facing her. I feel embarrassed, hopeless, and weak, like I'm backed up into a corner. My mind has become an egg on the ground on a hot summer day, fried. I let out a frustrated groan. I need to get away, away from everything and everyone. Just for a little bit. There was only one place to do that.
I run away from the stables. Run through town, calling out 'sorry' to those I bump into and waving at people that call out to me. I run to the edge of the District fences and make a hard turn to the right. I jump the fence and ran into the forest that surrounds the District. I keep going until I find the clearing in the trees. It isn't big, just enough to move around a few paces. It overlooks the creek that cuts through the trees, just high enough to hear the gurgling of the water that allows you to lose yourself in your mind. I used to come here to think a lot. I come here more often nowadays. The Games ruined me like they ruined many others. I don't want to remember, I just want to go back. Back to the time before and forget that my name was drawn from that glass ball.
His arms wrap around me, engulfing me in loving warmth. He whispers, "Erin, my Erin," so sweetly into my ear. "You didn't come yesterday. I missed you."
"I missed you too." I whisper back, placing my hand on his bicep. I sit there for a few minutes, taking in his warmth. I missed this so much, missed the strong arms around me, protecting me from anything and everything.
"Chris." I say, leaning my head against his shoulders.
"Yes?" He asks, bringing me closer to chest, engulfing me further.
"Do you remember how we met?" I ask. I always ask this question. It was a stupid question. He knew. Just like every other time I ask him.
"Of course." He answered. "I brought home a missing sheep."
He had found me here. He had found me sitting on the rock at the very edge of the overhang, looking down at the creek. I remember I had yelled at him, telling to leave me be. That this place was mine and her couldn't come here anymore. It hadn't worked. It never did. He would come every day and every day I would tell him to leave but he never did. He annoyed me, always asking why I came here and what I did, sitting on that rock, staring at the creek. I tried to ignore him and thought that he would grow tired and leave. He never left me though. I began to trust him, trust him that he would be there and never leave. So I answered his questions. I told him that this place was my sacred place, my place to think and to escape. Escape from all the things that caused such mayhem and suffering. I told him everything, even the secrets that I couldn't tell my own family. It shut him up and for a few days he didn't come. I thought he had left me. I started to hate him, despise him. But he came back. He came back and we would talk. My place became ours. I treasured that more than anything in the world.
"I never meant to leave." Chris says, reading what was on my mind. "I never meant to leave you. I didn't want to. I just had to... take care of some things."
"'Take care of things?' What do you mean?" Chris sighs and snuggles into my neck.
"Just things… at home. I didn't want you to see me so weak. So I didn't come for a few days. I didn't mean to leave. I didn't mean to leave you…"
"Why me?" I ask after a few moments. I could feel the shift in his body as he places his chin on the nape of my neck.
"What do you mean?"
"Why did you choose me? You could have had any girl in the District; God knows how many were after you. Yet you chose me, the stable girl who couldn't catch a chicken when it got loose. Why?"
Chris chuckles. "You really want to know?" He asks. I nodd against his shoulder.
"Well, because you're different. You aren't afraid to tell people how it is or what's on your mind. You always try your best and try to out shine those that tell you you can't. It drew me to you. It caused me to love you."
"Do you really? Do you really love me?" I ask.
"Of course. I don't just throw those words around." He says like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Then why did you do it?" I question. He turns me slightly to look at me. His green eyes looks into mine, earnestly trying to understand what I was accusing him of.
"Do what?" He asks, confusion lacing his voice.
"Why did you volunteer? Why did you go with me? Why did you leave me?" Chris looks at me with an expression of both sadness and irritation.
"I couldn't let you go in there. I couldn't sit back and watch you die before my eyes unable to do something about it. I had to go in." I stand up with a jolt. My hands shake with rage.
"You should have just let me! You should have just let me go in alone. I would have come back. I would have fought to come back to you. Why did you do that! Why did you die for me? Did you think I wanted your blood on my hands?" Chris stands up and looks at me, eyes sad.
"Erin… I never intended for that. I wanted to protect you, keep you safe. I never wanted to spill blood but I did. You needed to come home." My hands continue to shake. My jaw clenches to attempt to control the anger boiling inside me.
"Tell me this is a dream. Tell me that I didn't go through hell and back. Tell me you and I didn't go in there. Tell me you didn't die for me and that I'll wake up from this nightmare soon."
"I wish I could Erin. I wish I could." He runs a hand through his dark hair. "I wish I could just go back and change things so that your name wasn't drawn, so that I could fight with all my might to come back to you but I can't!" He places his hands on my shoulders and brings his eyes to mine. "Believe me, if I could I would take it all back. And don't believe for a second that I wouldn't."
"I got a letter today, Chris," I say after a few moments. "A letter from President Snow." I could feel Chris's fingers tighten slightly on my arm. "It told me that I am being forced to mentor. Chris, I'm being forced to raise children up for slaughter like cattle. They are so much different than cattle." I whisper the last bit, emotion overwhelming me. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"
Chris's hands drop from my arms. I look up at him, green eyes hard.
"We all have sins, Erin. You have blood on your hands, forced or not, you do. You need to redeem yourself. Protecting those kids is your way out."
"What if I don't want to?" Chris shrugs.
"Not like you have much of a choice." He brings me into a hug. "But no matter what, I'll be here with you every step of the way."
"Only in my mind." I say into his shoulder.
"Better in your mind than not at all." He kisses my forehead.
"I'll see you at the reaping Erin. Remember, I love you." He disappears into the shadows leaving me with the trees, the creek and my mind. I sit down at the rock on the edge of the overhang that overlooks the creek and stare down at the water. My mind was like an egg on a hot summer day, fried. But it's better with you with me than not at all.