New story for a rainy day...

Chapter 1

"Mom, do we have to go?" I huff in frustration. She's forcing me to go to some stupid memorial event in the Capitol to celebrate the ending of something I wasn't even around to know…an event called The Hunger Games that took place for 75 years before the a group of rebels ended it. We've learned about it in school so I know what it was and that both my parents were a part of it.

"Yes, Poppy, it's been 20 years and we missed the last one." she explains. I remember, I was just a kid then and my mother's pregnancy with my younger brother prevented us from attending.

"Can't I stay with Aunt Posy? I'm sure she won't mind!" I plead.

"Poppy, you're going. That's final." she snaps at me. I don't want to go. It's going to be boring, just a bunch of victors give speeches about something I will never fully understand. I glare at my mother and her face mimics mine as we go head to head in a staring contest, waiting to see who will back down first. It won't be me. I hear the front door swing open and see my father enter with a loaf of bread under his arm.

"Daddy, please don't make me go." I coo sweetly, hoping it will be enough to coax him.

"Go where?" he asks with a laugh as he sets the bread onto the counter.

"To the Hunger Games thing." I say.

"Why don't you want to go?" he asks.

"I've already been once and it was boring." I reply.

"You were 7 years old. I'm sure you'll think differently of it now that you are grown." he says calmly.

"Please Daddy." I sing sweetly to him with my hand folded in front me.

"Sorry kid, can't help you this time. It's important."

"Fine, I'll go but I won't like it." I say before making a loud exit. I walk to the staircase and sit next to the bottom of the stairs to spy on my parents. Maybe my Dad will talk her into letting me stay at home without me in the room.

"I honestly don't know where she gets it from." my mother says, pressing her fingertips to her forehead. My father laughs as he wraps his arms around my mother's waist.

"Well she didn't get it from me." he says with a smirk. She rolls her eyes as she lets out a slow exhale. "It's scary how much she's like you."

"Yeah, stubbornness and all." she says, clearly annoyed.

"I don't mind it. It's kinda cute when you get all mad." he says, nuzzling his face closer to hers. I look away and crinkle my nose.

'Gross.' I think to myself. The last thing I want to see is my parents acting like a couple of teenagers. I wait a few seconds before looking back and see a different scene. My father is gripping onto a chair behind my mother with his eyes shut tightly. My mother is whispering things to him, words I cannot hear. This has been a regular occurrence in our house so it doesn't take me by surprise. When this happened when I was younger, I had to leave the room, as per my parents' instructions. I'm not sure why it happens or what he experiences. My parents have only told me that it's because of something that happened to him when he was young. As I watch, I can't help but notice the love in my mother's eyes as she brings him back to normal. I wonder what she says to him. It doesn't take her too before he's acting like Dad again. He mentions something about taking a shower before dinner. He finds me on the stairs and smiles, placing his hand on top my head as he passes me. When he turns the corner, I travel back to the kitchen, where my mother resumes cooking. I sit in a stool on the opposite side of the counter where she is working.

"Why does that happen to Dad?" I ask quietly.

"Poppy…"

"I'm seventeen now. I'm old enough to know." I tell her, keeping my voice calm.

"Ok." she says, complying with my request. She stood there silently for a few minutes, thinking of how she would explain it.

"After the Quarter Quell, the Capitol took your father hostage. They tried to brainwash him, turn him against me."

"Did it work?" I ask with curiosity.

"Yes, it did but some doctors from 13 tried very hard to make him better. It took a long time but they were able to get him almost back to himself. He sometimes has the triggers fire in his brain, though. That's why we had you and your brother leave the room…to make sure you were safe."

"Is it hard to bring him back?" I ask with worry.

"It can be exhausting at times." she admits. "But I don't mind."

"Why?" I ask. I'm not sure I could put in the effort she does.

"Because I love him." she says with a smile. "And your father means the world to me."

"Thanks, Mom." I say with an appreciative smile. It's nice to have an answer to one of my hundreds of questions that I have that I know she'll never answer like how she got the scars on her body that she so precariously hides. There's also the mystery of the photograph of a young man that she keeps in her top drawer. There's also the fact that her eyes get teary whenever my father brings in a freshly clipped primrose from the bushes in front of our house.

I changed my mind about the Capitol. I will gladly go. Maybe then I will finally get some answers about my parents.

Leave a review and let me know what you thought. Should I continue?