You Can't Hurt Me Anymore
Chapter One
Johanna Mason; District Seven; 5-years old
Mommy is crying and asking where Daddy is. She really should know; Daddy and my older brothers are always at work this time of day. Oakley cries from her room, she's three years younger than me and doesn't deal well with being ignored. The house is different than normal, though, an old woman is holding my mommy's hand and her face looks worried.
When the old woman came in a few hours ago she was happy and excited. "You're going to have a brother or sister soon!" she had said. But after seeing Mommy she started looking sad and I don't like how she looks at Mommy, like she's not even there anymore. Like she thinks my Mommy is gone, but she's laying right there.
"Johanna?" Mommy croaks and I skip over to where she lays on her bed. She looks exhausted and her skin has a grayish tint, but she still had enough energy to smile at me. "Honey, I love you, you know that, right?"
"I know that, Mommy," I say, grinning. "Is it true that I'm gonna have a sister soon?"
"Or a brother," she reminds me, spoiling my mood. "But, honey, I want you to know how much I love you."
"I know how much you love me, silly!" I exclaim. "You love me lots and lots!"
She smiles faintly. "Baby, I don't know what I would do without you. You're my everything. I want you to be strong, okay? You're going to be my strong little girl, aren't you?"
"Mommy, what's wrong with you?" I ask, fear creeping into my mind. Mommy sometimes sounds tired but never this tired. And never this scared. "Why are you crying?"
"I don't feel too good, baby," my mother coos. "Will you give me a hug? It'll make me feel better." I hug her, but it's all too short for me. Then a pained look flashes across her face and the old woman makes me go play with Oakley with a stern, "And stay in there until I call you out."
I'm enjoying myself with Oakley until a scream rips through the house. Oakley begins to cry and I can't move from sudden fear. The scream is followed by another, and more after that. I want to turn into goo and sink into the ground, I'm so scared. I want to go check on my Mommy, but the old woman's words flash in my head and I keep myself sitting and calm Oakley down.
It's been hours. The screaming has been off and on, but it stopped altogether thirty minutes ago replaced by the sound of a baby crying. The old woman finally enters.
"You have two new sisters," she says with a tired and sad expression. I feel myself grinning, and run out to meet my two little sisters. They're almost identical and make me smile. I see my Mommy lying in the bed and I run to her.
"Mommy, you had two babies!" I exclaim. Mommy's eyes are closed and her face is a chalky white, but I know she's just playing with me. She'll open her eyes in a few seconds and yell, "I got you!" But as I continue to stand there, I finally notice the blood. There's a lot of it and the room smells overwhelmingly like metal, enough to make me gag. And Mommy still hasn't moved.
"Child, step away from the body," the old woman says with narrowed eyes.
"You mean my mommy? Why?" I ask.
"She's passed on, child. Can't you tell a living person from a dead one?" the old woman snaps.
Dead? My mommy can't be dead. The blood… it's just a joke. A huge prank my brothers are pulling. "My mommy's not dead, ma'am. She's alive. She just had two babies! How can a dead person do that?"
"She died in childbirth," the woman explains. "She had the babies and then died of blood loss. It happens all the time."
"My mommy is not dead!" I scream because a person isn't alive one second and then dead the next. It just doesn't happen like that… or does it? The old woman gives me a surprised look before going to check on the babies without another word.
I sit in the living room in Daddy's favorite chair, waiting for him to come home and assure me that Mommy is alive.
I hear boots on the porch and wait, my breath coming in short gasps.
My daddy and brothers walk in. Daddy has tears in his eyes. No. It can't be. Mommy can't be dead.
A few more men come in and walk to where Mommy is laying. They pick her up and lay her on a gurney before carting her out of the house. Daddy and my brothers are openly crying now. Tears spill out of my eyes. My mommy is gone. I'll never hear her voice again.
She'll never see me grow up.
Johanna Mason; District Seven; 11-years old
Oakley and I climb up the tree, laughing at Sarah and Mary who haven't yet learned. They stare up at us with their bottom lips poked out and trembling. Charles, Pine, William, and Daddy have already left for work.
I've stopped climbing and sit in the lowest branches, taunting Mary and Sarah. I should be cooking lunch for the twins and Oakley, but everyone needs time off at some point.
I love the woods. They're like a second home to me and Oakley. Sarah and Mary would be content to sit inside and... sew. That's crazy to me.
While I've been taunting the six-year olds— I know it's childish, but so what?— Oakley has been climbing. I look up to see exactly where she is. Oakley is almost to the top of the tree all ready, she's made it to the most dangerous branches.
"Oakley, you need to stop now," I warn her. She only looks at me long enough to wink before climbing ever higher. "Oakley, stop!"
She shoots me a cheeky grin. And then the branch she's balancing on cracks. Her face turns to terror as she realizes what is about to happen.
Oakley falls.
Screams rip through the quiet of the day. My little sister hits the ground and seems to crumple up. I climb down faster than I ever have before. "Sarah, go get the healer! Mary, go find Daddy!"
I feel bad for telling the two six-year olds to run around by themselves but what else am I supposed to do?
I crouch beside my fallen sibling. Her breathing is shallow, her arms and legs bent at odd angles, and her face is white. A small trickle of blood comes out of her open mouth and I can clearly see that she bit off some of her tongue.
I get up and run to the bushes just in time for my breakfast to makes its reappearance. I retch for a few moments and then crawl back to my sister, waiting for the healer and hoping Oakley will make it through this.
The healer and Sarah show up minutes later. A few men are with them and they lift up Oakley. Her eyes flutter open, and her face shows the agony she must be feeling while she screams her head off.
I follow closely behind the group and see my father, my brothers, and Mary standing on the porch when we arrive.
"Johanna?" my father croaks. His eyes are red and puffy. "What happened?"
"She fell out of a forty-foot tree," I choke out and begin to sob. My father hugs me. Sarah and Mary hold each other and cry. Pine and Charles are silent with grave expressions. William cries openly, not caring that he's supposed to be strong. He can't help it, he's only fourteen.
The healer comes out with a grim expression. "Mr. Mason? Can I talk to you alone for a moment?"
"You can say whatever you're about to say in front of my children," my father says with gritted teeth.
"Mr. Mason, Oakley's injuries are very extensive, not to mention painful." She pauses and looks at the ground before continuing. "I don't have the right equipment and medical knowledge to help her. I'm so sorry."
"So, what you're saying is that she's . . ." Charles begins but then trails off, his face full of pain.
"She's going to die," the healer says. "Her injuries won't kill her for a few days at the least, but she will be in a lot of pain. I don't give painkillers to lost causes, Mr. Mason."
Dad doesn't seem to have the energy to speak, so I do instead. "So, her last few days are going to be filled with agony?"
"Yes, unless . . ." her voice trails off and I nod to keep her going. "There are ways to keep her from suffering."
"You're suggesting that we shoot her like some animal?" William says, clearly outraged. I silence him with a hand.
"Is there any way that we can make her death painless?" I ask quietly.
The woman looks at my father. "If you give me enough money to buy more painkillers, I can make her overdose on them."
I never thought I'd be in this situation. I'm discussing how to kill my sister. This is wrong... wrong. My father shudders. "We can manage. Do it."
Charles and William give him distraught looks as the woman disappears and I sob into my father's chest.
I've just killed my little sister.
Johanna Mason; District Seven; 13-years old
It's the reaping and I can't help but be a little scared. I'm eligible for the second time this year and I don't like to think about the odds. I've gotten tesserae to help out, since we're not richest family in the District. Even being a rich family, by District Seven standards, isn't much to brag about.
"Johanna? Are you even listening to me?" one of my classmates snaps.
"Nope, I haven't heard a single stupid thing that came out of your mouth," I snap. The reaping day is never a good day for my social life, if you can even call it that. I get too tense for my own good.
She huffs, glaring fiercely, and I can't help but laugh at her. This just makes her angrier.
I'm pretty sure the Treaty of Treason is the most boring document ever written. I wonder about it, though. Aren't treaties supposed to make things better? Obviously the Capitol didn't get that memo.
Suddenly my mother pops into my mind and I flinch. I remember the day perfectly even though I wish I could forget. Oakley's death has stayed crystal clear in my mind too and guilt has plagued me every day since her death two years ago.
I literally have to shake my head to get these ugly thoughts out. The escort is announced and I tense. "So, shall we pick the girl?" She walks over to the large bowl and pulls out a name. Could it be mine? Could that one slip of paper possibly hold my name? "Eve Santorini." A small fifteen-year old walks up to the stage. The escort asks for volunteers, but Eve isn't that lucky.
The escort walks over to the boy's bowl and pulls out a name. "William Mason."
I feel a gasp tear through my lungs. Shock courses through me, as my big, strong older brother walks onto the stage looking at me with sad eyes. "Will!"
He shakes his head imperceptibly and I feel tears flowing down my cheeks. The escort leads them off stage and I run to the place where the goodbyes are held. I cry into my brother's lap for too short a time before I'm sent away.
A few weeks later, I see Will murdered with a mace to the brain. All childish thoughts and wishes exit my head once and for all.
All I can think is that I've grown up too fast for my own good.
Johanna Mason; District Seven; 15-years old
I've been working in the logging business since I was twelve. When my brother died in the Games, the slack had to be picked up by someone and I was the only family member old enough at the time. Cutting down trees all day isn't too bad once you get used to it and the other workers aren't too bad. They even play games during the breaks. These games objectives are mostly all the same: who can hit that tree over there by throwing their axe precisely or who can cut the most in sixty seconds. I'm a little smug to say I'm the reigning champ of all the bullseye games.
My first love, Branch, holds my hand and smiles at me as we walk to work together. "Branch?" I ask. "You think we're ever going to get out of here?"
He grimaces. "No, we'll be stuck here for the rest of our lives, Jo." He's the only person I allow to call me that. Even Dad can't do it anymore. We're given axes, gloves, and assigned a few trees to cut down over the week.
"I love you," I say before we part ways.
"I love you, too." He presses his lips to mine in an irresistible fashion that leaves me breathless and in no shape to be handling an axe. I walk away with his taste still on my lips and a dopey smile that I have to fight to get off my face before my friends see it.
The girls I'm friends with— which, I assure you, is not many— are usually rough around the edges and bitingly sarcastic. I guess you can say, I learned from the best. They talk and laugh and I smile along with the conversation without getting any real pleasure from it.
A small girl that's new runs up to us. "Did you guys hear yet?"
"What?" I ask gruffly, trying to hide my curiosity.
She looks up at me with wide eyes. "Some guy just got killed. Apparently they ran out of gloves and Bob's axe went flying and chopped the guy's head right off."
The girls look at each other with grave expressions. They wonder if they knew the unlucky man. They wonder if it's their husband or brother or possibly even their father. "How old was he?"
"Pretty young, they said, not even over eighteen."
My stomach flops. "What was his name?"
The girls pauses, unsure. "Leaf or something… I know it's tree-y."
"Could it have been Branch?" I ask, bottom lip trembling.
"That's it!" she exclaims.
I collapse. Branch. My Branch. He's gone.