This first chapter is quite slow. I had no idea how to start, so forgive me for being a little rusty.
Besides, this is the first Hunger Games fanfiction I'm properly putting up. c:
I do love Fane though, he's my baby. c': Hence why it's from his point of veiw.
This will involve a lot more OCs, I'm sorry!
CHAPTER ONE
It was only the few rays of early morning sun that streamed in through the cracks in the boarded up windows that lit the room. This was usually the time of day that I enjoyed the most. When it wasn't dark enough not to be able to see your surroundings, but it wasn't light enough to make out every little detail. For instance the shabby old apple boxes that were serving as bedside cabinets could become treasure chests, filled with glorious riches from overseas.
I could usually spend hours doing this, re-inventing the room around me. Though today I couldn't bring myself to try and imagine more than one thing, I couldn't seem to muster up the heart or imagination.
In the dark I fumbled for my twin, wrapping my arms around him. I could hear the heavy sigh that fell from his lips, though he didn't bother to try and detach me. Maybe it was because Shane secretly needed as much comfort as I did today, or maybe it was because he knew that I needed it. Screwing my eyes shut tightly, I curl up into his side.
"Jesus, Fane. You're freezing." Shane mutters, flinching underneath my touch.
My pale green eyes opened, trying desperately to read his expression in the dimly lit room. I didn't need to see him to know what look he was wearing, by now it didn't take even a second guess.
Shane would be wearing that exasperated expression of his, the one where he just couldn't seem to muster up enough energy to feel sympathy towards me.
Not that I blamed him, of course. I had always been the needier twin, being a full ten minutes younger than my brother. For twins we were actually pretty different, not in looks, but in personalities. It was certainly not me who had inherited the overly-confident gene from our father; rather I had seemed to have been hit in the face squarely with the timid gene. I had never been angry or bitter towards Shane for being the dominant twin, in fact I felt the opposite. I was glad that it had been him and not me; because if there was one thing I couldn't stand it was attention. Never was I more nervous then when all eyes were on me. Thankfully, whenever I was around Shane, people seemed to pay much more attention to him than to me.
Despite all this, I wasn't always as meek and pathetic as I could come across.
"What's up, kid?" Shane huffed, finally playing the big brother role and turning to scrutinize me.
"I'm scared, Shane." I admit quietly, chewing avidly on my lower lip.
There was no reply.
"Shane, what if it's me?" I peruse, unable to keep the trembling note out of my voice.
Still, only the silence cared to answer my questions.
"What if-"
"Just shut up, Fane!" Shane cut across me, quickly and sharply. He finally tore himself away from me, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed and standing to his full height, storming across the small room in his frustration.
I lay there for a few moments, unable to muster up the courage to go after my twin and apologise. Instead I stared up at the plain ceiling, counting the cracks in the peeling plaster with a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew that I was being selfish. Why had I even bothered opening my mouth in the first place? Shane had never liked talking about it, which was why our family considering the whole topic a taboo subject. I couldn't help myself, though. I needed some reassurance, someone to tell me that everything was going to be okay. That my name wasn't going to come out.
The birds had been the first thing that taunted me.
I had found my solace underneath the broad canopy of an old tree. Leaning back against its thick trunk had made me feel safer than I had for a long time, even if it was all in my head. I guess that was what I liked about District 7; you always came across the odd tree that refused to be torn down in its pride. That was the kind of attitude that I needed to have, especially on a day like today.
However as I sat there, playing safe and reassuring thoughts in my head, the birds had begun to congregate on a low bough, trilling their tuneful song.
I raised my head slightly, looking up at them. They seemed to stare back down at me, almost smugly as each one then took off in flight once more, tracing circles through the air.
They were free.
I let a heavy sigh tumble from my lips, banging my head against the rough bark. What I would give for my freedom. Instead of being tied here, to await the same misery year after year. My name had yet to be drawn. There was still a chance though; each year I managed to escape only filled me with dread for the next one coming.
At least I wouldn't be one of the young ones this year.
Not that my name was going to come up, I hastily assured myself. But say it did. At least I wouldn't be like poor little Archiewin Fowler.
Archiewin had been my best friend when we were younger, or should I say my only friend, aside from Shane. He couldn't have been five days older than twelve when his name came out. I can still remember the look on his face when his name was read out for the whole of District 7 to hear. The way we clasped our hands together tightly for a few moments, before the older boys pushed him forward.
That year had been terrifying for me. Every day I had been glued to the television set, unable to move from my seat to go to school and learn just why my best friend was in such a horrific situation. It wasn't just me who watched my best friend die. The whole of Panem had seen it. Twelve year old Archiewin had been no match for eighteen year old Brutus and his sword. I remember Shane dragging me away from the screen.
A shiver ran up my spine at the memory. It played in my head like a movie reel. I looked down at my hands, not surprised to see that they had curled themselves into shaking fists.
"He was twelve!" I yelled at the sky.
Not even the birds were around to hear me. They must have been high above Panem by now.
But I was still here.
Trapped.
"Fane, will you please sit still!" My mother snapped, smacking me over the head with the back of the wooden hair brush.
I grumbled in response, fidgeting a little before finally settling down. I supposed I had to give her credit. Even though I was sixteen years old, she still knew how to make me feel like a child. She went back to attacking my hair with the wet hairbrush, trying against all odds to make it lie flat. It seemed my hair had managed to resist gravity, because no matter how hard you tried it would always end up sticking out at odd angles.
"Oh, I give up." Mother cried, tossing the hairbrush onto the dresser and sighing as she surveyed her handiwork.
I sprung up instantly, full of nervous energy. Shane had been lounging back on the bed, watching us with a grin placed upon his face. I suddenly envied him for being so care-free.
The grin was wiped off his face as our mother beckoned him over.
I couldn't bring myself to sit down; instead I kept pacing about the room and jumping at every little sound. Both Shane and our mother were beginning to grow irritable with my behaviour, their expressions both showed it clearly. I didn't have time to worry about that; instead I was too busy worrying that this year it would be one of us.
My other greatest fear was that Shane's name would be drawn. I knew I had no chance in Hell of being able to survive on my own without him; I didn't have the courage to do such a thing. I didn't think for a minute that he wouldn't be able to win – he had charisma and strength that seemed to have skipped me entirely. It was just that I knew I had no hope of staying sane while he was gone.
Shane and I argued a lot. One time I remember him saying that he hoped my name would be read out, because then maybe I'd learn to stand on my own two feet for once. I, of course, had cried a lot after that statement.
Deep down I'd always guessed that on some level he'd had a point. I couldn't go through my whole life standing in his shadow. One day I figured that I would have to distance myself from a bit. To be fair to myself I was much better than I had been when I was younger. Back then you wouldn't have found five minutes where I wasn't permanently attached to Shane, unable to speak a single word unless I had him by my side.
Work had a big part to play with it. We both had extremely different jobs, which meant that we had to use our own abilities instead of relying on each other for support. Or rather – me relying on Shane.
I had been fourteen when I had been offered my first job.
Shane had roped me into playing one of his favourite games; 'Provoke the Peacekeeper.' To say things had gotten slightly out of hand would be something of an understatement. Luckily for us, being from District 7 meant there were always plenty of trees to climb. I had been terrified, so the first thing I had done was jump the wire fence that barricaded off Old Constance's garden. There was a rather large cluster of trees on his land, one of which towered high above the rest. I had scaled it in no time at all, too frightened of the Peacekeepers to be afraid of falling.
Old Constance, with ears like a bat, had come out to see what all the commotion was about. Luckily for me he was majorly impressed with my agility in climbing – which meant he did enough to ensure the Peacekeepers didn't give me any trouble – and offered me a job.
It was the one thing I was proud of. I suppose you could say that it helped me build a lot of confidence, so I should be thankful for Shane and his reckless antics.
My hand shook violently as I held out my hand to the man who sat before me. He didn't bother to look up at me as he pressed the cold metal into my fingertip, hastily pushing it against the crisp white page.
I hated the fact that they didn't even seem to care how frightened any of us were, but then they never did. I had never once seen any Peacekeeper show any sign of affection towards any of the kids in the District, or even a flicker of real emotion.
"You okay, kiddo?" Shane asked, ruffling my hair. I nodded, my lips pressed into a grim line. I knew I could count on him to step up to the plate. Even behind all our sibling rivalry, we both looked out for each other. His hand gave my shoulder a quick squeeze as he steered me amongst the crowds of crying children, gaunt parents and shell-shocked teenagers.
Shane and I watched the District 7 escort toddle up the wooden stairs to the stage, exchanging long glances. It had been a long-running joke of ours that one day Gretta's outfits would get a little too tight, or her heels a little too high, and she wouldn't be able to make it up those steps.
With one long finger she tapped the silver microphone, the noise echoing around the courtyard. "Welcome, welcome all of you, to the beginning of the 74th Annual Hunger Games." She paused to smile down at all of us, but I had yet to see once face smile back. "And remember; may the odds be ever in your favour."
I whimpered quietly.
The Reaping had begun.
The girl's names always got read out first, it was customary. I wished that this wasn't true, because it only prolonged the tension that proceeded to tighten my chest. At least they got it over and done with quickly.
Gretta's hand plunged into the fish bowl.
"Wheezy Xander!" Her shrill voice rang out of every speaker.
Instantly we all looked around for the girl whose name had been spoken, every head in the crowd turning.
Finally a young girl stepped forward, her blonde waves tumbling around her shoulders in the breeze. A few people gasped – she couldn't be much older than fourteen. Still, despite looking nervous as she took her place on stage, she managed to remain composed. Her stormy blue eyes gazed out across the crowd evenly, displaying shock - not fear.
I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding.
"What a darling." Gretta crooned, gesturing towards Wheezy.
She took one step to the left on her precarious heels, dipping her hands into the second bowl. I watched as her acid green fingernails trailed through all the slips of paper, before they finally snatched a single name from the bunch.
"Fane Cyrus."
And my heart leapt in my throat.
Realisation crashed around me, like waves hitting the jagged rocks. My whole body seemed to seize up, jaw locking as I gritted my teeth. I knew what happened to the tributes who displayed their reluctance - they got labelled as dead meat before even setting foot in the arena.
But I so desperately wanted to cry.
I looked quickly at Shane, who was watching me with a look of horror splashed across his face. Finally, after what seemed like an age, my twin pushed me forward – parting me from the crowd.
Defiantly, I tilted my head towards the inky blue sky, staring straight ahead as I took a rather wooden step forward. I felt rather detached from my own body as it made its own way up the stairs and onto the platform.
It really hit home when I glanced out across that crowd, able to read so many faces at once.
There was one pair of eyes that I deliberately sought out, but my twin brother was having a hard time even looking at the stage. Yet the look on his face was the easiest of all to read.
'Better him than me.'
I tore my eyes away from him, gritting my teeth again as I stared blankly at the sickly colour of Gretta's shoes. I wasn't going to let anything get to me, not even the fact that my own twin was happy I was stood up here.
"So there we have it, our two new tributes. What an honour this is!" Gretta trilled, annoyingly cheerful.
She thought this was an honour? Great, then she could take my place.
Suddenly my arm was thrust up into the air, and it took me a moment to register that she had grabbed hold of my wrist.
One face stood out from the crowd. Shane. My twin had finally managed to bring himself to make eye-contact with me. There was nothing in his expression that showed any remorse for the events that had unfolded in front of him, he just seemed to be content with the fact that he was on the other side of the stage.
I yanked my arm free of Gretta's talons, my eyes beginning to sting from all the effort holding back my tears.
"Tributes shake hands!" Gretta almost ordered, looking between the two of us and then back at the cameras and smiling broadly.
Pushing, what I hoped was, a nonchalant look onto my face I stepped forward, extending my arm to the female. Her pale blue eyes met mine, her hand gripping firmly at my forearm.
Only we knew the other was shaking.