Chapter 1
After 73 years of violence, suffering and death, the Hunger Games ended. It wasn't that the Capitol had tired of their favorite piece of entertainment or that the districts had been punished enough. On the 74th year of Panem, a plague infected more than half of the country's already small population. The high number of deceased people put a strain on everything that Panem was built on. The districts could not function and produce like they used to, and so the Capitol could not receive the amount of products that they were used to. To the dismay of President Coriolanus Snow every life, wether district- or Capitol born, was now equally important and paramount for the survival of the country. Panem's future depended on every single citizen and their ability to produce thriving offspring that could survive along with Panem. And so it was decreed that the Hunger Games was no more and in its place a new, different and bigger game would exist. A game that involved every single district-born citizen. A game that, unlike the Hunger Games, had no victor and instead of death and violence being the result, a baby would be born. The new game had no name for there was no one who'd broadcast it to the wealthy Capitol citizens, but it existed. And though the death of children on live television was a thing of the past, this game controlled the districts all the same.
Love had been a choice before. Now it was no longer. Wether one would have children or not had been a choice before but now, it was required of every eligible man and woman to have at least one. And only with the person that the Pairing authority had chosen. Every woman and man of ages 16 to 35 will be paired up with the person that they are the most genetically compatible with. If an individual's genetics aren't compatible with anyone else, this person is deemed Unpairable. An Unpairable individual is sterilized, and is never allowed to marry. This is because the regime only wants strong, healthy citizens. By cutting out the weak, sick and deformed, they cut the cost of the Districts. Less money to the districts, more money to the Capitol.
When President Snow had broadcasted this, I had not know what to do. How to react. Shocked would be an understatement. After a horrible year of continuous death, with more than half of our district infected, the Hunger Games had not really been on my mind. It usually stays at the back of my mind, together with Prim getting picked for it. But this year I had seen more people suffer and die than ever before. Gale's mother, the ever so lovely Hazelle, and his brother Vick had been two of the first to die. It had broken Gale's heart and though it has been almost a year since the sickness first appeared, he has not spoken to anyone other than me and my family, Rory and Posy. I understand him though. Had it been Prim I would've never recovered. But she was lucky, as was I and my mother. A few others that I care about or know of had been okay as well. The mayor's daughter, Madge Undersee had survived and so had Peeta Mellark and part of his family. His witch of a mother survived but his father did not. The baker was the most kind person I have ever met and I felt incredibly sorry for Peeta when they carried his father's fabric covered body to the burning pit. Life had never seemed more unfair than in that moment. Though it made me happy that Peeta survived because I had not yet repaid him for when he saved my life all those years ago, I had to fight my own tears when I watched Peeta spill his at the burning.
That was another, if not the worst thing about the plague. When a person died, the corpse of that person was supposed to be burned to prevent the disease from spreading further. It was horrible to watch when family after family dragged their dead father, mother, sibling or friend to the pit in the meadow. I helped Gale with his mother and brother. We carried their covered bodies for what seemed like eternity, though it was only minutes. District twelve's signature coal dust managed to impregnate the white fabric that covered them, even in that short time. When we stood by the side of the pit and watched them burn, Gale cried. That is the only time I have seen him do so.
The plague wasn't wiped out, but it seemed that those of us who'd survived it were immune, and I presume that it is from this that the regime got their idea. Why spend endless amounts of money on vaccines, treatments and drugs when you could just breed a new, genetically superior population?
A week before when the Reaping was supposed be, the President's speech was broadcasted. He looked as snakelike as always, his green eyes seemingly boring into mine through the screen. I remember how the gaze gave me uncomfortable goosebumps. Snow told everyone of the end of an era, as he called the cancellation of the Hunger Games, and the start of a new one. A new beginning he had called it. I still snort when I think about it. A beginning of a new era of a different kind of oppression. We may not be sent into an arena and forced to kill each other anymore but now we're baby making machines, forced to have sex with a stranger to breed genetically perfect babies. I had always promised myself that I would never get married or have children. Now it seems that both of those things are happening and are out of my power. Though I suppose I'll never have to worry about them ending up in the Hunger Games.
The days after the broadcast we were all forced to go through multiple medical checks and take a lot of tests, testing everything from personality to IQ. The Pairing authority then used this to find compatible matches for everyone. Primarily in the district that a person was born in, but if no one in their own district is a match, they'ed search every other district until they found one. And if they do not, that person will de deemed Unpairable. A superficial part of me wished for me to be deemed unpairable just so I'd be able to hold onto my life long principles. Just so I can keep some small part of me in a world where no one is allowed to be free.
There is no ceremony like the Reaping, when a person is Paired. There will be an official wedding date for everyone at the end of summer though. This year being the first year of this new arrangement makes the number of new pairings marginally bigger than it will be every year after this one. After this year, only sixteen year olds will be paired. I can't help but to think of all the already married couples whose licenses will be revoked. A selfish part of me is thankful that I am not one of them.
Not everyone receives their pairing notice at the same time either. I only become aware of this as Gale receives a white, Panem stamped letter, telling him that they have found his match. It's Madge Undersee. In that instant I am aware that I should be jealous. If I were ever to marry voluntarily I always assumed it would be to him. Everyone did. But I feel nothing but happiness for my two friends because I somehow know that they will be okey. Madge is quiet like me, but she is also kind and will be good to Gale. It could be a lot worse, I think uncharacteristically optimistically. After the year Gale has had he deserves some ounce of happiness. All I know for certain is that I am happy that Gale is allowed to stay in Twelve. A small part of me hopes that life can stay the same, or even become better then before. If he stays, and I stay, and there is no Hunger Games to be worried about then maybe life could actually be good.
My optimistic way of thought is short-lived though, as I notice that more and more of the people in my district receives official letters of their new partner. I have yet to receive mine and as more and more time passes, I start to regret my earlier thoughts of wanting to be Unpaired. As each day without a letter passes a treacherous part of me grows more and more anxious. And when the Peacekeepers arrive at my doorstep to escort me to the medical center, that treacherous part of me cries.
The medical center in Twelve leaves a lot to wish for. The walls in the waiting rooms are covered with a grey, flaky paint that in some places, is stained with questionable substances. As the rare sun outside shines through the lone window and onto a specific spot on the wall opposite of me, I try not to imagine every time an injured coal miner has splatted blood on the wall from an untreatable wound. I try not to imagine the screams of despair as the wife has had to watch her husband die in the waiting room, before he's even allowed to see the only doctor in the district. Most of all I try not to think or hear the very real wailings of the Unpaired woman on the other side of the torn wooden door. It is not screams of physical pain yet it sounds more painful than any sound a wounded coal miner has ever made as he lay dying on my mother's kitchen table. I shudder and try stop – but cannot help – the tears that escapes my swollen eyes. Katniss Everdeen is not a woman that cries, I think to myself. But all I do is weep. I weep until the cries on the other side of the door stops and I weep after.
When the Peacekeeper by the only escape route out of here motions for me to enter the chamber of horror, I do so silently, with drying, stinging tears on my cheeks. They've left a salty trail down my cheeks that itches the more it dries down.
The doctor is a Captiol citizen with periwinkle hair and a smooth face. She looks at me impassively as the Peacekeeper motions for me to enter the room, before closing the door forcefully. My gaze quickly scans the room and I see another Peacekeeper with a helmet that reveals nothing, standing motionlessly by the window. I stare at him, or hopefully her, as I realize that the guard will stay inside the room during the procedure. As if this wasn't already bad enough. The urge to cry some more hits me but this time I manage to force it down.
"Please sit down on the chair in the middle." The doctor says to me without even looking up from the pad in her hand, and with her Capitol accent very prominent. I stare at the chair she's referring to. I have seen one before in the books at school but the very thought of sitting in one makes me nauseous. Still, I do as she says.
"You have to take you pants and underwear off." She looks at me pointedly, and as if I am stupid, when I sit on the chair with my legs up, pants still on. Flushed, either from embarrassment or anger, I quickly stand up and takes off both pieces of clothing before hurriedly sitting on the chair again. She hands me a thin sheet of paper to cover my lap with, for which I am thankful. She starts off by asking me questions about my habits, when I last had my menstruation, when the last time I had sex was and if I've ever had an abortion. The last two questions I answer with a crimson face, this time undoubtedly from embarrassment. When she's done and starts prepping the instruments, I wish she would ask me more. I am not ready. Pressing my nails into the palms of my hands, I focus on that pain rather than the mental as I fear what is about to happen. Then her phone rings.
I am not aware for how long I sit there, staring out the window as the doctor speaks quietly through the phone. I have since long abandoned the effort to try and hear her what she's saying, instead watching the birds outside the window. They're mockingjays but they sing no song. They simply fly back and forth outside, as if mocking me with their freedom. This waiting is more torture any procedure ever could be.
As the sun that shined fiercely through the dirty window earlier is covered by grey clouds, the doctor hangs up. I expect her to return to her earlier pursuit of prepping the surgery but she doesn't. I stare at her questioningly, my grey eyes boring into hers.
"It seems that this is your lucky day, Ms. Everdeen." She says, but her face is as impassive as always. "They've found you a compatible match."