My name is Finn.
I live in a world where ash creates patterns against the grey sky. Where the very few trees we have are rusty brown and on deaths edge, where the flowers are wilted and the ground is bare where grass once grew. I live in a world where the sun is hotter than ever, burning any and everything; melanoma cancer tops the already high death toll. Our small, barely functioning hospital is full to the brim with patients, suffering from not only cancer but pneumonia, meningitis, blood poisoning and, in the rarer cases, starvation, dehydration and hypothermia. Rare only because the ones who suffer and, in most cases, die from theses diseases are the poor. The ones who cannot afford the hospital. Live on the streets as I do and you will see these cases - and more. And guess what? My home District is only one in thirteen and we are all the same. Except the Capitol, of course.
I, or we, should I say, live in a world where while we die from malnutrition, the rich families within the large Capitol gorge themselves, dining on fatty foods and sickly sweet desserts daily. Their worst vision of death is from obesity and heart disease or something akin to that - most just expect to die in a warm bed after living a snug, well-nourished life. They paint their faces and sometimes their skin, stain their hair ridiculous colors and have closets overflowing with sparkling dresses, heavy with diamonds and other expensive jewels. Their houses are just as bright and even better, everyone actually has a home. Of course, this is only what I've been told; tales of wonder passed down from loiterer and addict to the common thief and dealer. Slowly making it's way down through the various ranks of criminal, until the lonely old pick-pocketer finally whispers the stories into the ears of the homeless. From there it circulates, around and around until every man, woman and child knows of the place they call the Capitol. The place of happiness and safety, not of death and danger.
Some say my mother and father once lived a life like that. Of fancy dress and good food and safety. That always works up a bitter laugh from my bony body, no matter what state of mind or body I may be in. Of course I know of my parents' history. It doesn't change the past or the present though, does it? It doesn't change the fact that they lost it all, that an uprising so similar to the one they once instigated would tear down their world. That their very child would lead this destructive army and force them to watch as the world they fought off was built once again in front of them. Then stand and stare, helpless, as those who tried to defy were killed by some inhumane method; shot, electrocuted, decapitated, starved, drowned. Bleeding to death was a favorite for sure. The torturous world that had once been banished to the furthermost corners of hell was back, and it had returned by the very hands that had thrown it away.
My name is Finnick Gale Everdeen. I am the son of Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen, and the brother of Primrose Rue Mellark. I am the sibling to the most powerful person within our world, and also the most evil.
"Residents of District Twelve!"
Mayor Endermine's voice had always been abnormally loud and having it projected over the crackly loudspeaker only made us wince. Bodies jostled against me and the smaller chatter within the groups only grew louder, adopting a more whiny tone now. I felt a sharp pain in my foot as someone stood on it and a short, chubby girl in front of me gasped and spun around to apologize, "Oh, my, I'm so-" She cut off, chocolate brown eyes staring up at me in that naturally wide way they have always had. She recognized me.
"Finn!"
"So you recognized me, Geraldine."
"Of course I did. I've only known you since preschool. And it's Dina, you should know that by now."
"I have changed since preschool, Dina."
"Only a little," She grinned up at me, and I couldn't help smiling back. The dark haired, dark eyed, dark-skinned girl, whose family had immigrated from District Eleven long ago, had been my friend for as long as I could remember. She was the only one who had stuck around after the 'Overthrow', as they put it, too. I got the feeling she wanted to say more - I know I did - but it was at that moment our head safetyguard, Maxxel, decided to 'assert his authority' with a quick shot from his gun. Dud bullets, of course, but the sound was enough to quieten us. "Long time no see, eh?" She quickly whispered to me with a wink before turning around again.
Clearing his throat, the pudgy, balding Mayor began again, "To repeat what I have been trying to say for five minutes now," He flashed a glare at the groups of teens, gathered in rows within the dry square. "Residents of District Twelve. You are gathered here today to commend and celebrate a great event, organized by our distinguished Government and admirable Mistress, Ms. Primrose Rue." I felt several eyes flick over to me as Endermine uttered the name. I did my best to remain focused ahead and keep the bright red blush from my cheeks. "I would like to invite Ms. Tinker Finkel, an escort sent by the Mistress herself, to the stage to announce this great event."
Mayor Endermine stepped away from the podium and took a seat in one of the two seats upon the stage. As our gazes returned to the stadium, there was a collective sense of amazement as, standing where Endermine had been a moment ago, was now a fresh-faced young woman. Color was the first word that popped into my head when I saw her and, boy, did that describe her well. Thick, flaming orange hair, so bright it had to be fake, pulled back into a long ponytail that fell to the small of her back. I could only imagine how long it must be when it wasn't pulled back. With her hot pink skirt and business jacket, emerald singlet and fluro belt, the only part of her that seemed to fit in were her eyes. A soft, sky blue, I couldn't help being reminded of my sister's eyes. Except hers were sharper, more...piercing, I suppose you could say. Whatever way you looked at Tinker, she certainly was different and definitely didn't fit in with the rest of District Twelve; torn and patched clothes, dirty skin and all.
For a moment, Tinker Finkel just stood at the podium, beaming down at us with a chilling white smile. It was only then we realized she was waiting for an applause and, reluctantly, we gave her one. For the record, I'm fairly certain there was an audible grumble of distaste from our corner of the crowd. Once the unenthusiastic applause died down, she began to speak in a high, squeaky voice which seemed strangely appropriate for her, "Hello, everyone!
"It is a pleasure to be here today in this, err, wonderful town," She paused, looking around, as though trying to convince herself of what she had said. Chirpy as ever, she continued again, "Anyways, I'm sure you'll be very interested in this new event! The Government is very excited for it. They've even appointed a High Council to oversee it!" She seemed way too perky to be real, and I was beginning to question the theory of robots. "Those of you who pay attention in History are sure to know of this, and those of you who haven't...well, I'm sure you'll have heard the name thrown around." A sneaky smile was spreading across her face now. An icy foreboding feeling crept up on me and I had to resist the urge to shiver.
"Residents of District Twelve!" Finkel's voice was louder as she said this, a sneaky tactic to recapture the attention of the crowd. Maybe she wasn't as dumb as I thought. "It is my absolute pleasure," No, she is dumb. "To announce the opening of..."
"The 76th Hunger Games!"