Written for Starvation's Monthly One-Shot challenge. This is for June's prompt: Toast.
He was the baker's brother. That's all he was. As some might be labelled as fat, skinny, loud or quiet, he was the baker's brother. Tink Fitch was the brother of Davy Fitch, District 12's greatest baker. If you could afford any of his delicious baked goods you would feel like you were eating food fit for a king. His name was renowned throughout the District. Having just passed his 18th birthday, the District was thrilled to be able to keep their brilliant baker. Tink was envious of his brother. He didn't have the skill to become a baker himself. He couldn't hunt. He couldn't mine. He couldn't do anything. All he was was the baker's brother.
XXX
The town square was full. Everyone in the District was forced to attend. An eerie silence swept the crowd as the Capitol escort rose to the stage. She stumbled through the Treaty of Treason whilst every pore in her tiny five foot body exploded with excitement at the part coming next: sending two kids to their death. The girl was picked. Tink didn't know her, Tink didn't know anyone. She sobbed and fell to the ground. She was fourteen. The Peacekeepers threw her on the stage like a ragdoll. She sat and sobbed, the escort moved on. The boys turn. It didn't matter who was chosen, Tink volunteered. He waltzed up to the stage, no one cried, no one gasped. He may have volunteered but all he was was the baker's brother.
XXX
Only one person came to say goodbye. Davy. He brought with him a breakfast for Tink. He said it'd be the last time he'd taste his food because he was toast. Tink picked up the ironic bread that his brother delivered and threw it in his face. His last moment of his town was gone. His brother had written him off as dead. He had a right in doing so. All he was was the baker's brother.
XXX
The Capitol was wondrous. The tall buildings, the styles that people wore, the food, all things that they hadn't had in twelve. No one had had that stuff in twelve. Tink stuffed his face with everything in his sight. That's what they wanted, to fatten the pigs before the feast. Dressed in nothing but black powder, Tink was rushed into a giant stadium so they could show off their prize. Cheers erupted for everyone else. But for him and his 14-year old partner, no one cheer, no one applauded. All he was was the baker's brother.
XXX
One by one they were called up and each answered questions. Each took on a role, a personality. There was the ruthless killer, the shy girl, the outgoing girl and he was once again stuck with the poor baker's brother. The audience was entertained by everyone else, he was last. He answered the questions as best as he could, no reactions from anyone. The clock buzzed and finished his session. No one liked him, no one wanted to sponsor him. All he was was the baker's brother.
XXX
The gong boomed throughout the forest arena. He ran as far as his legs could take him. He collapsed. No where else to run, he sat there and lay there. A minute passed, an hour passed, a day passed. His stomach growled, his head ached, his throat croaked. Faces crossed the sky in order of District. They were dead, he was not. It was a funny thing to him, death. Since he was already written off as a lost cause, he really didn't need to make an effort. Silence surrounded him as he passed through branches in the forest. An aroma hit his nose. Someone was baking, well, they were burning something. He arrived at the smell and found an older boy, he looked to be from District 11. He sat alone by a fire cooking. No alarm crossed his face as Tink walked in to the clearing where he had set up. Something hard hit the back of his head and he fell back in to the woods. They say you smell burnt toast when you're about to pass out. That's what Tink smelled. Burnt toast. Davy was right, he was toast. Tink slipped out of conscience never to awake again. After all, all he was was a baker's brother.