The Punishment
Part One: The Reaping
Chapter One
We survived the war, but at what cost? We are now at the full mercy of the Capitol, the very entity we had been trying to overthrow. For years they have mistreated us, given us the second best beds and the leftover portions of food. Even here, in the closest district to its walls, we suffered. I can only imagine the conditions the outer districts are in now. During the war, they were cut off from food transportation via Capitol blockade, and I can only imagine what sort of effect that had on the population. They were starving to begin with, and now what? I suppose we all fared better than 13.
It was the crippling moment. District 13 was obliterated and there went the district's nuclear force. We were at that moment eternally weaker than the Capitol and we knew it. It had to end. Too many had died, we could not spare any further losses. What conditions would those left have to face? Our numbers are barely holding on now. I am often caught lying awake at night wondering what the world might have been like if we had continued, if we had not signed the treaty.
It is at these moments when I dare to think far back. We know of the disasters and the wars that led to the formation of Panem, but I wonder how things might have been different had the people back then decided to work together to build a better future rather than fight over their ideologies and resources until nothing remained. I suppose in a way we have bettered ourselves from past experiences. Humanity knows when to stop now. If only we had known beforehand.
The districts have been called before their individual Justice Buildings today for the final punishment for our treason. We are expected to dress in our finest clothes and be prepared for anything. As I walk out onto the balcony of my family's apartment, I feel the warm August air and sense the feeling of dread that everyone holds in their heart today. The Capitol is not against cruel forms of punishment, but we all wonder how far they would go.
I find Adalina asleep in her room and stir her gently. She stretches and I help her get dressed. She asks for breakfast, and I must be the one to break it to her that our food supplies haven't arrived yet.
"There might be food at the gathering, today," I say. This perks her up, and it hurts me to say it.
We sit at the kitchen table when we're both dressed—her in a pale purple dress and me in a light blue dress shirt and black pants. I stare at the door of my parents' bedroom and wait for them to emerge. After thirty minutes I barge in, catching them still in bed, barely awake.
My fists clench. How can they be so irresponsible? It's been like this ever since the accident. Since then they've shut down, completely tuned out the world, including their children. I hate them for it, and if they keep it up I doubt I'll ever forgive them.
I storm out of their room and grab Adalina's hand. "We're going down now. Mom and Dad will follow us out," I tell her. But even she knows I'm lying.
We make our way down the stairs of the apartment building along with several other families who never make eye contact—you never know when memories of the war might be brought back by a familiar face. Adalina absentmindedly twirls her hair with her finger. That blank look on her face makes my heart ache because I then wonder how smart she would have been now if it weren't for that stray rock sent up by an enemy mine. She was a smart girl then, but now I have trouble remembering what that was like. She was eight when the war started and I was twelve. Now I am sixteen and she is twelve, but when I look at her I see the five-year-old mind she will forever be trapped with.
We make our way through the dusty streets to the Justice Building. Adalina never leaves my sight and her hand is constantly clasped in mine. When we arrive in the city square, adults are parted from their children and we are directed to a long row of tables, divided into neat lines. I catch the sight of banners bearing the flag of Panem along the surrounding buildings and wonder what is going on.
I notice only the older children from families are being lined up with a few on the verge of adolescence mixed in. We wait patiently until it is our turn to approach the table.
"How old is the girl?" a peacekeeper with long dark hair asks.
"Twelve," I answer.
"Name?"
"Adalina Aurelius," I answer. The woman asks Adalina to stand still and flashes a picture of her face. She begins to shake and I tell her to be calm. "It's going to be fine."
She holds still until the peacekeeper releases her then is whisked away by another to a roped off area towards the front of the crowd.
"Age?" she asks.
"Sixteen," I tell her.
The peacekeeper asks my name. "Caius Aurelius." She takes it down and does the same with me. I am taken to a block near the back of the crowd with a group of other boys my age. We all stare around in confusion and worry.
"What's happening?" one boy with a pale face dotted with dark freckles asks. His knees are shaking.
Everyone shrugs. "They're probably just going to make an example of us or something," I say. It's not unlike the Capitol. Show the districts who they put in danger by rebelling and you can place even more guilt on them. Why not? We are ever at their mercy. We will not survive another war.
It's a full hour before everyone is packed into their designated areas with the adults and young children located all the way in the back. Screens are hanging all over the square and a stage has been erected at the foot of the Justice Building. By the time everything is in order, the summer sun has caused everyone to begin sweating through their clothes and I am doubting my own theory of why we're here.
Several people emerge from the Justice Building. The new mayor, replacing our previous "traitorous" one, his wife, several other officials, and a man distinctly from the Capitol dressed in lavish fashions which have been toned down for the occasion. His hair is even presentable with a slick comb over.
"Welcome everyone!" the man's voice booms, deep and echoing off the walls. "I am Reginald Trinket, from a long line of wonderful Capitol citizens. I will be District 1's escort this year and I am incredibly honored." His words sound forced. "Now, you are all likely wondering why you have been brought here. Your mayor has a few words about that."
Mayor Farine steps up to the microphone and begins speaking in a grim tone. "When the Treaty of the Treason was signed, it enacted a system of reparation by the districts to the Capitol. This system is defined by the selection of one male and female between the ages of twelve and eighteen from each district to be delivered to the Capitol and trained in the art of survival and defense. All in preparation for the moment when they will be transported to an arena to fight to the death. The final tribute—as a participant is called—will be returned to his or her home district and that district will receive gifts from the Capitol for a year, and the victor bathed in riches for the rest of his or her days. This is to show the Capitol's forgiveness and its might over the districts. This offering of reparation will forevermore be how we remember these past days of darkness."
My heart sinks and I hear several others burst out in fits of hysteria. Several boys in my area are even crying silently, some not so quietly. I cast my eyes around, looking for some form of escape, but there are peacekeepers everywhere. They knew. We cannot leave. We have to pray it will not be us.
Adalina. I search for her in the crowd at the front where most of the distraught sounds of coming from and catch her on the edge of her group, staring off into space. Does she have any idea what is going on? What if they call her. What if—no.
Two glass balls are delivered to the stage, one for the girls' side and one for the boys'. My hands are sweating now, not due to the heat. My heart beats with every step that the people on stage take. Reginald returns to the microphone. He beats on it three times.
"Now, one detail Mayor Farine has forgotten is one of my…favorites. The entire event will be broadcast to all of Panem as the Hunger Games. Isn't that lovely?"
A silence falls. No one even breathes. In the back, the parents are preparing for another revolution that will never happen. Not only will their children be murdered by their peers, they will have to watch.
I was right. The Capitol will make an example of us, but not in the way I had supposed. No one could have predicted this.
Reginald crosses the stage to the girls' side. He reaches inside for one slip among thousands. He forces his hand down deep into the glass orb and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He crosses back to the microphone and unfolds the slip, every crinkled sound from the paper like a clap of thunder in my ears.
I hold my breath and he reads the name.
"Adalina Aurelius!"
"No!" I cry out, moving to the edge of my block. "No! Don't! You can't!" I force myself under the velvet rope and run down the aisle for Adalina who is looking around in a state of confusion.
"Hold him," Reginald instructs.
Two peacekeepers hold me back as Adalina walks up to the stage, still wondering what is going on. She catches my gaze and waves. I continue to struggle until my muscles burn.
"Take me! I'll go in her place! You can't do this!" I shout.
Reginald returns with a quick reply. "Boys cannot volunteer for girls. All sides must be even."
No. Where are my parents? Why aren't they doing anything?!
Reginald calls out a name from the boys' side. "Titus Arch!"
The boy is only a year younger than Adalina at the most. They will never survive. Adalina will be killed from the start, and that boy can't survive a day in the wilderness, much less against—I do the math in my head—twenty-two other kids
I have to do something. I have to protect her.
So I do what I can. I do what is necessary.
"I volunteer!"
And just like that I am in the boy's place. He breathes a sigh of relief and I rejoin Adalina onstage.
"What is your name, young man?" Reginald asks, holding the mic to me.
"Caius Aurelius," I mutter.
"And this is your sister?" he asks, astounded.
"Yes," I say.
He turns back to the crowd. "Well, then we're going to have an interesting first Hunger Games aren't we? Here's to many more! Happy Hunger Games!" And then we are taken within the Justice Building and are separated, thrown into different rooms on opposite ends.
I lean against the wall and look up, allowing the tears to come. What have I done? How can I protect her when only one can survive? It's impossible. But perhaps this is what the Capitol wants. To pit us against each other. No, I won't have it. Not like this. Not at all.