"Would the Defendant please stand."
Objectively, the speaker was a handsome man. He had a dark hair with a widow's peak, piercing blue eyes, an aquiline nose, and a strong jaw. He stood on a raised platform in front of a small, but very crowded hall. He was dressed in somber colors and was flanked on either side by four persons, equally somber though rather less attractive. The crowd hung on his every word, fascinated by his beauty and the cruelty it magnified. His beauty was like a cobra, entrancing but dangerous and deadly.
A tall, well built young woman rose slowly to her feet and stood glaring at the Tribunal. The trial had taken weeks, dozens of witnesses were called, none of whom had actually witnessed anything. There had been no one there to see the crime itself, no one except this girl. The prosecutor had strained every nerve to convince the tribunal of her guilt and had surely succeeded. She had no beauty. Nothing in her features would soften a heart towards her fate. She had mousy brown hair that hung in lank strands to her shoulders, and there was a steely glint in her deep set, brown eyes. Her intense gaze caused more than one of her judges to flinch and look away. The horned viper in the center merely raised an amused eyebrow and continued with his proclamation.
"Lauma Xylander, you have been found guilty of manslaughter and are hereby sentenced to two months unpaid labor in the lumber yards."
A murmur of discontent swept through the court house. Lauma sneered derisively at the whispering crowd. Apparently they thought that a girl who kills her own father should be punished more severely than two months hard labor. Considering she already worked in the lumber yards and her mother made enough as a laundress to keep them from starving, it was a rather light sentence. Maybe this once she was actually going to catch a break, get her life back. But hope died when her eyes returned to the man with the gavel in his hand. Eryk Grayson was smiling evilly at her. She had never known his name before her trial, just that he had been a drinking buddy of her father's. That alone was enough to make her loath the very sight of him. She felt her anger spike as she realized that he was enjoying this. Whatever her fate would be, he wasn't in any hurry to shorten his moment of triumph. He didn't even bother calling for order, simply waited for attention to return to him. When he continued his voiced dropped to almost a whisper, milking the suspense of the congregation.
"At the end of those two months, Ms. Xylander, your name will be entered into the reaping one hundred times."
The crowd had murmured before, but this time it was chaos. Never had the reaping been used as a punishment before. Though, to be fair, there were also very few murderers eligible for the Hunger Games. Lauma felt strong hands grabbing her arms and pulling her towards the exit. Everywhere she looked there were Peacekeepers pushing through the melee, trying to disperse the crowd. She glanced back to the front and a haze of white hot rage settled over her at the sight of Grayson's self-satisfied smirk. With a mighty jerk she managed to free one of her arms and lunged towards the venomous toad of a man. All she got for her trouble was a dizzying blow to the side of her head and one last look at the bastard's smile before the darkness took her.
"Lala... Lala? Lala, can you here me?"
"Move over, I'm going to give her a..."
"...I don't know... internal bleeding..."
"...her right to die ... her old man... riddance..."
"How can you... anyone could see... beatings... "
Voices drifted in and out of her consciousness. Every now and then a few words would register before the blackness returned. Lauma fell into the void with open arms, welcoming the peace of oblivion... until the dreams came.
It was dark in the forest. Lauma ran swiftly and silently over the carpeting of pine needles. A lone owl hooted in the distance. The wind took up the cry and howled about her, trying to stop her, blow her off course. She kept on, for now she could hear the screams. Louder and louder until she could see the cabin, the light in the window that should have welcomed her home filled her with dread. The ground before her turned into a marshland. Every step sunk in to the hip as she struggled across the bog. Then there was a sickening thud in the house, the screams stopped as suddenly as they had begun and a cold laughter took their place. Lauma recoiled, trying now desperately to free herself from the mire and escape into the forest. The laughter was coming. Her father was coming. She felt the tears seep into the corners of her eyes. A dark shadow appeared against the light in the doorway. He walked towards her as if there was no swamp, grabbed her by the hair and yanked her out onto the cold, hard earth. He leaned his face down towards her and she was overwhelmed by the stench of alcohol and stale vomit. She tried to crawl away but her limbs had lost all power of functioning. "Look at me, you pathetic excuse for a girl!" Her eyes betrayed her as they snapped back to the face of her tormentor, ugly and distorted with rage. But it was not her father. It was morphing now. The nose was growing and curving, the brow was smoothed of it's many wrinkles, the eyes lightened and took on the hue of the sky after a storm. This lovely face was more hideous to her than any scarred, misshapen countenance of her imaginings. She felt it growing in the pit of her stomach, larger and louder and more desperate until she felt it ripped out of her throat and heard it with her ears. A long, violent, irrepressibly primal scream.
"Lala! LALA!" There was another voice in her ear now. A familiar, comforting voice and she latched onto it with her whole being. "Lauma, listen to me. You need to wake up. It's just a dream. You are safe in the infirmary."
Lauma felt the world righting itself once more. Her mind came out of the fog and into a blinding pain. She quickly exchanged her screams for moans as she fought the tears.
"It's alright Lala, you're back now. Grayson wouldn't let them give you anything for the pain, said it ought to be added to your punishment. I managed to sneak a little bit of the Albionix, but none of the good stuff. It won't help much."
"S'all righ ma" Lauma croaked awkwardly. Her lips were parched and her throat felt on fire.
"Oh thank goodness! Don't you talk anymore." Something cool pressed itself against Lauma's lips. "This is just water. Once you get this down, I'll give you the one with the medicine. Now listen, I probably can't stay long, they just let me in here because it was so bad, they thought you might be..." Mrs. Xylander trailed off from her morose train of thought. "Nevermind what they thought. You are a fighter and you'll out live them all. My brave little Lauma."
The soothing liquid slid gently down the girl's throat, relieving the agony of the raw flesh. Next came the medicine. It was a foul tasting concoction of different pills, ground up and placed in a cup of strongly brewed green tea. Lauma resisted the urge to gag. It was over quickly and the water returned, rinsing away the disgusting cure. Noises became indistinct once more and the arms of Morpheus beckoned.
"Don't fight it darling. Go to sleep. There's nothing more I can do for you here. The pain will be less if you are asleep. Shhh. "