I Know Why, a hunger games fanfic

I know why the animals in the circus are so willing and capable of doing their tricks. I know why the petting zoo animals look so sick and sad. I know why the "freaks" at freak shows are laughed at and pointed at. I know all of this because I, too, am one of them.

I am neither animal nor human. I am both, caught between the two different yet similar worlds. I am part human, yes, but I am also part animal, too. I raised children on my own, all sharing my deformity, all being laughed at in the forest and the village, all being mocked, all crying about the same things, all not belonging, all facing the same trials, all not succeeding. I seem to be the only one of my offspring who can survive the trials we all must face here in Sylin Woods.

First is an easy task: collect one hundred apples without eating them. That one took me an hour, despite my being hungry and weak. All of my children have completed that one. All except one, one who was so weak and so hungry she couldn't resist the temptation of the juicy, delicious apples she had to pick. Sadly, she met her fate.

Next is the task of swimming through Faron Grove, where the white waters, while having healing abilities, can pull even the best swimmer under or away in its fierce, changing currents. I completed this easily, having swam through it before my test. Most of my children complete this task. There are still some that do not, though. Sadly, they meet their fates.

Next is the task of sitting beside the water you have just swam through for four days without drinking it nor using it to heal the wounds that are given to you as reminders that you do not belong in this world. I have known starvation and thirst for as long as I can remember, and therefore was not easily tempted by anything but the possibility of being healed. That is what got more of my children, the ones that did not pass this one. Sadly, they met their fates.

Next is properly selecting the correct vial of ointment to apply to your wounds after your four-day thirst and starvation. The ointments that are incorrect infect the wounds, and there is another ointment that can heal that, but you have to find it. I know my medicines, so therefore I passed this easily, happily. Few of my children fail this, but there are still some that do. Sadly, they meet their fates.

Next is the one that proves our strengths in survival: you are placed in a closed off section of the forest and forced to create a place to live for yourself and stay alive for five years, hopefully prospering from this experience. You are cut off from the world, meaning you have no one to talk to besides yourself. We do not hunt, so therefore we do not need to destroy animal life, living off the bountiful plants around us. Few succeed in staying alive, often too weak from the previous trials to continue. Sadly, they meet their fates.

Next, those that do succeed go on to try our strengths in physical combat. We must fight various creatures in single and multiple combat with no help from anyone besides yourself and the weapons around you. You may use your surroundings to help you, so I succeeded easily by manipulating them through the woods I knew so well but they did not. Few of my surviving children succeed in this. Those that do not, sadly, they meet their fates.

The final trial is surviving another five years alone, but with season changes, meaning one must fend off the cold of winter, the heat of summer, the rain of spring, and the wind of autumn. On top of that, they place various other creatures in your closed-off section of the woods to fight and try to destroy you. I was lucky to survive my first winter, but once I passed the first year, I figured out the system and used it to my advantage. I suppose my children aren't so clever. Sadly, they all meet their fates.

Their fates are death, naturally, leaving me in my isolation. I raise children, teach them about everything they need to know for the trials, then set them off on their way to prove they can use the life I have given them. None ever come back. It is hard being a mother and knowing that you cannot do anything to help your children. I can only have one alive at a time, meaning I train one child, wait for them to succeed or die, then have another. Since they never succeed, I will never know what happens if one child does succeed.

But that leaves me to question: what would happen if one of my children did succeed? Would they be sent back to me, and I could have another child, raise it with the help of the one who had succeeded like me, train it, and send it off knowing that I may get them back, too? I have known loneliness for so much of my life I do not remember what companionship feels like. My children are so young when they are sent off to fight for their lives, in some ways literally. They, like me, are sent off at the age of seven, and by the time they would complete the final trial, are sixteen. I do not know how to raise a sixteen-year old, but that would be lovely to try.

What is that you ask? What am I? Who am I? Why, I thought you knew! I am simply a genetic experiment of years ago, created before the fall of Panem which left Aretes in its place. I am simply a human and animal put into one, with the torso of a woman and the rest of a horse. They used to call me a centaur. Now they call me a mutt, an evil being. No wonder they wish to see my children suffer.

How do I mate? Why, that is easy: I am the only one of my family line to succeed, but there is another centaur like me. Once my previous child has died, they send him back, force us to mate, then take him away as I proceed to carry out childbirth. It is an unfortunate ending for us, but I have known no different.

Whoever reads this must know the truth about who I was, but I can never write it all. My handwriting grows so faint as I approach death in this pitiful cell. You see, I am dying. Slowly, my captors are poisoning me, putting me to death. I did a terrible thing a few weeks ago, one so terrible I can hardly try to comprehend why I even did it. But I did, and they solved the matter. I shall be the last of the centaurs, and the Aretes shall no longer have their games.

One of my children was born...different. He wasn't a centuar at all. He was...completely... human. I wanted to save him, make sure he was allowed to live, so I hid him away and said he died when he was born. I succeeded in keeping him hidden with me for sixteen years as I raised my next child. My forced mate, Clyde, knew about him, but the Aretes did not. I was waiting for my next child to die when there was a knock at my door. I thought it was Clyde (he was sent alone, never with an Arete), so I sent my son - Ambrose was his name - to go get the door. However, it wasn't Clyde, but the Aretes. I didn't know that Clyde had started a fight and been forced to confess everything he knew about me and everything else, and when he finally admitted I had a human son, they killed him. Instantly Ambrose and I were placed under arrest, I being paraded through the streets and being pointed at and laughed at and mocked and thoroughly not belonging. Ambrose was forced to walk behind me, hands tied behind his back, arms held by armed Aretes police. He tried to fight against them, but they held fast. Finally we were sent to prison, where Ambrose was sent to complete the trials, and I was forced to watch.

I had prepared him for this day, and he had prepared himself for it as well. Ambrose easily passed through the shorter trials, but then the Aretes jumbled the order, putting everything after the first five years first. He continued to fight well, succeeding and completing all those trials. Then the Aretes sent him to complete the final trial. When those five years passed and Ambrose was still alive, everyone was astonished. Only a truly pure human could complete these tasks, the populace exclaimed. They claimed we were lucky, having survived it all. No one else had, meaning it must have been impossible. But they were wrong - it wasn't impossible, just difficult.

But then they brought him to me, telling him to say one last goodbye before joining the Aretes. I was so confused, asking what they meant. Ambrose explained how we had to be separated because I had to be alone, and he was human. Neither of us completely understood, but we said our goodbyes and he was taken away to a girl who had said she would offer him lodging for as long as he needed it.

Once he was gone, I did the terrible, awful thing of asking why he had to be taken away. I am never to ask questions, you see, nor am I supposed to show affection. But after years of mating with Clyde and raising children, the affection bit slowly lost its meaning. Just for my asking them why I couldn't keep him with me, they decided they had to be rid of me. They decided the populace had to destroy the last connection to the past of Aretes - meaning Panem - and that it would only happen once I took my last breath.

So here I am allowed to write whatever I want, as a last request, and no matter what it must be published. I started off quick and fluid, but now that I am poisoned my writing gets slower and fainter. I no longer can see colors, I can no longer hear some sounds, nor can I feel temperature. I am slowly fading, they say, the colors of my hide, hair, and skin being drained of life and color as the poison works its way throughout my body. I write this as I still can, but the pen is slipping in my hand, and I make mistakes often.

Or at least I was...