The Secret Life of Madge Undersee
Hello Everyone, yes this is a story I started thinking of. I have ideas for quite a few actually. Ill post the first chapter to this, and wait to see what people say before I continue in the series. Hope you like it.
-Dn
Chapter 1
I wake up to the sound of screaming. Its distant enough not to startle me, but close enough for it's piercing sound to rattle through my bones. The haunting sound coming from a small dark room down the ornate hallway. My eyes slowly close to remember one last felling of peace before completely rousing myself up for the day. I look up into the light blue color curtains surrounding my four-poster bed. The soft cotton sheets and blanket snuggled closely to me, their warmth being my only protection. It puts me in a mild state of bliss. Then the screaming starts up again.
The soft happy moment I just experience ripped away by my mother. My life has never been normal, nor will it ever be normal. I've grown up my entire life in the fancy riches of the mayor's mansion. My father is the mayor of the poorest and most pathetic district in the entire country of Panem, District 12. Most people don't like the quiet streets of starving children and poor coal miners, but I like it. I'm happy with the usually friendly people in the town and even on occasion the Seam.
My mother was born and raised in the upper class of the merchants. She lived a happy carefree life in the town boutique with her mother, father, and twin sister Maysilee. I have heard that they did everything together. They spent every waking hour glued to each other's sides. I know of one time of when they were separated, the time my mother started growing into her fits, and became unfit to present herself in public. The Quell. That one-year is the cause of a chain reaction that brought many things to our district.
The 50th Hunger Games was the year that my eighteen year-old-aunt was reaped for the Hunger Games. She went in as one of our Districts four tributes. When I looked at those games, I believe that she would have been able to win on any other given year. If it wasn't for Haymitch Abernathy. He became her only ally, a source of survival and someone to give her a reason to come home. On occasion when I have talked to my mother about her sister, she has revealed that she was in love with Haymitch.
Haymitch. Our districts only living Victor and known nation wide as a drunk who can't save our Districts tributes for the last 23 years. God knows why he drinks. Maybe it's because he is tired of growing close to two children each year, only to watch them die. Maybe its because of his family and friends murdered viciously about a year after his Victory. Another reason is because of all of the things that happened in the arena, including Maysilee. In those brief conversations I have had with my ill mother, she has revealed that she believes that Haymitch fell in love with Maysille in the arena, and they shared an unspoken love.
The screaming continues in the Distance. I ignore it as my extended patience has remorse for my mother and all of the things that have happened to her in her short brutal life. I sit up and throw the cotton comforter off my body and stand up next to my bed. I walk over to the mirror sitting on my dresser in the corner of my room, right next to the window. I look at myself. People from the Seam think of me as a shallow merchant girl who doesn't care about the basic value of life, as they might be killed as tribute any year and I have no reason to fear. They have a reason, but I live up to none of these expectations. I am not shallow. I rarely think of myself, but for what I can do to help others in small ways. You see, I am a quiet shy girl who prefers to keep to herself. A quiet merchant girl. What an opposite.
I take a small brush I got at the market and run it through my hair. I try to get all of the knots and tangles out of my curly blonde hair. After a few strokes, my hair is soft and soothe. I look pretty with my blonde hair and blue eyes, typical merchant.
I leave my room and walk down the long hallway with oak floors and a bright red throw rug that rubs the length of the hall. Different doors are all closed on all sides. One containing the bathroom, another a guest room, and my parents room. As quietly as I can, I tip-toe past this room in an attempt not to alarm my mother and throw her into yet another fit. I almost manage to make it past the room when I sneeze. Screams. The piercing screams hit my ears like spears into a heart. And trust me, I know what that sounds like.
I let out an exasperated sigh, and slowly open the door to my parent's room. I peak inside and see my father at his most vulnerable stage. He sits next to my mother holding her hand. He is softly whispering in her ear trying to get her to calm down. His green eyes are creased with wrinkles and a single tear runs down his cheek. You can really tell how much he loves her in this moment. And that he doesn't care about how messed she is. He lives for the happy moments when she is herself and not a complete mess.
He notices me standing in the doorframe and smiles at me. He gently coos my mother to lie down and tucks her in. Then with a kiss on her forehead, he comes towards me. He puts his arms around my shoulders and guides me into the hallway. "Good morning Madge," He says in his kind and caring voice.
"Morning dad," I respond. "How's mom?" I ask. I know the answer, but I want to sound caring and considerate.
"She is doing fine. She is just nervous about the reaping's. It reminds her of her sister, and she is scared for you." My mother, in all of her fits, still has a caring side where she keeps all of her happy memories. I guess I am apart of those.
"Oh, I see. I'm kind od nervous as well." Truthfully, I am nervous, but just not for me. I'm scared for my friends who live in the Seam, Frerral, Jenning, Gale, and Katniss.
"You'll be fine," He says, "I have faith in you." And with that, he kisses me on the forehead, and walks down the hall to his study to take care of some last minute reaping details. I look one last time at my hysterical mother and head downstairs.