My entire family sat in the living room in silence, each of us staring at something so that we wouldn't have to make eye contact with anyone, and then have to address the feelings that we were trying to keep from the surface.
I sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, sitting Indian-style and rocking the chair slightly, keeping my body moving, as I always did when I was anxious. My father sat on our thoroughly-worn love seat, staring at the spot where our TV used to be. We'd had to sell it once the rebellion started, using the money to pay for weapons: both to use against the Capitol as well as to protect ourselves. Just because the Capitol was a tyrant didn't make the people of district eleven any better. Desperate people did stupid things.
My dad had known the moment that our governor announced the decision to succeed from Panem, along with Districts 7, 9, 10, and 12, that bad times were ahead. At the age of fifteen, I learned to handle a gun. At the age of sixteen, my family officially joined "the rebellion," as the Capitol called it, after the Capitol had burned down our crops. One year later, and it was all over.
Initially, when the Capitol won the war, we all waited for the terrible retribution we knew was coming. We expected to be blown off the face of the earth, like 13, but I guess the Capitol needed our crops more than it wanted vengeance; only the leaders of the rebellion were executed, meaning that my entire family was safe. My best friend, Claire, was not so lucky. Her father had been the head of the District Eleven military forces. The entire population of District 11 was forced to gather at the Justice Hall and watch him hang.
My mother was the one to finally speak. "They can't seriously be doing this. They're just trying to make a point. What they're proposing...It's barbaric." None of us moved or responded in any way. She was right, of course, there wasn't anything more barbaric and horrific that I could think of than what the Capitol was about to do. Even bombing us into oblivion sounded more humane than what we'd been informed was going to happen.
Beside me, my sister sat with a stony face, but I could see her fingers trembling slightly. Only a year older than me, we were complete opposites. You would think that all we'd been through together would bring us closer, but Natasha became more closed off than she'd been before the war. Her emotions, where they had been hard to drag out before, seemed non-existent at this point. If you were able to see past her wall of long, blonde hair, you'd only be disappointed to see that behind them were pale, blue eyes which conveyed nothing but awareness. She'd shut herself off emotionally after all that we'd seen and done. We'd lived through war only to face something more horrific.
My brother, Henry, sat next to Natasha, his eyes to the ground as his legs bounced up and down. He was taller than me, even though he was three years younger. He and my sister shared the blonde hair trait, but my brother's eyes were like mine. Ours met briefly, then his darted to the clock.
1:26. In four minutes, we would be required to go to the Justice Hall and await our fate. Four minutes. It seemed too soon, but still an eternity away. I bent over to begin putting my heels on, knowing that this movement meant that I had given up any hope that the Capitol would call off their demand. I looked over at Natasha, who was mimicking me, and then to Henry, who put on his pre-tied tie. It occurred to me then how young we were. At fourteen, seventeen, and eighteen, we were children. Maybe not now, but before the war.
Before the war, I would just be entering adulthood; probably be thinking about getting married and having children. Any dreams of a better life I would have had died the moment my father put a gun in my hand and said, "This is how we live. This is how we die." I guess it didn't occur to him that, one day, they would take our guns away.
1:28. I could feel my heart beating faster. My family had always prided itself on keeping its composure, but I was faltering. I needed an audience. Someone to put on the show for. In front of my family, I was too comfortable with being fragile; and today, more than ever, even more than during the war, they needed me to be strong.
I'd always been the one in the family who could draw people in. I made them feel comfortable, wanted, and allowed them to believe that they could be themselves around me. I was the girl who everyone in District 11 knew and went to when they needed someone to talk to. When they needed me, I'd put on whatever face they needed, even if it wasn't what I was feeling. The only people I wasn't this way with were my family and Claire, all of whom I was thankful for; but, at this moment, I craved to have someone, anyone who needed to talk to me so that I would easily be able to slip into my role as the strong listener.
At 1:30, there was a knock at our door. Without waiting for anyone two answer, two Capitol soldiers entered our home, striding into the living room.
"All of you are required to report to the Justice Hall immediately," one said before directing his attention to me and my siblings. "From there, you will be given further instruction." Moments later, they had moved on to the next house, but their presence was felt even more than it had been when they had been in the room.
"Alright then," I said, forcing a small smile to my lips. "It's time to go." As though frozen in time, my family struggled to get up. Each seemed afraid that to move would be to never look back, which wasn't untrue.
"Barbaric," my mother muttered as we exited the front door. "This is absolutely barbaric." Outside, there were dozens of families, just like ours, making their way towards the center of town. I scanned them to see if I could find Claire, but she was nowhere amongst the crowd. It's probably for the best, I thought to myself. I needed to be with my family in these moments. Soon, we became just another cluster on the street that led to the Justice Hall.
Once there, the soldiers separated my siblings and me from my parents, causing my mother to panic. Although she did nothing, I saw my mother's eyes widening, tempted to call out our names, but not daring to. My father went where he was directed, keeping his head down in shame. I turned from them, not wanting them to see the tears that were beginning to form in my eyes. I would see them again, I assured myself. I concentrated on believing that everything would be alright.
My siblings and I were ushered into an area where other kids were waiting in a single-file line. It seemed to go on for eternity, so I kept busy by making conversation with the girls in line behind me. Sisters, ages twelve and fourteen, who had never done anything for or against the Capitol. They'd simply lived their lives and gotten caught in the cross-fire. That seemed to be the case of quite a few of the people of District 11. They didn't really care who ruled, as long as there was food on the table and a roof over their heads. I couldn't say I blamed them.
I eventually got to the front of the line, where I was forced to be finger-pricked for a blood sample, then made to take a head shot. Natasha and Henry, who had gone before me, had been serious in their photos, almost lifeless, determined not to let the Capitol see their sadness, or their fear. I wished for a moment that I could be like them, stoic in the face of the enemy. But I wasn't them, I was me; and the only thing I could think to do to show that I was not defeated, that I would not be defeated, was smile.
The soldier operating the camera looked slightly puzzled, but waved me on. Once I'd gone through the process, I was directed to a group that was filled with all of the other girls from my district. Looking through the crowd, I couldn't find Natasha, but did find the red, curly hair that belonged to my best friend. Pushing my way through the crowd, I found my way to Claire, who was visibly relieved to have me there with her.
"Isn't this a mess?" she asked, gesturing to everything that was going on around us. "And there aren't even any cute boys to pass the time with." I laughed, knowing that she knew as well as I did that, even if we did have boys around, no one would be in the mood to flirt.
"Do you have any idea when it's supposed to start?" I could feel my legs aching, stiff from standing for too long. It seemed like all of us were asking that question, an unmistakable grumbling rippling across the area we were being contained in.
In front of us, on the steps of the Justice Hall, stood four soldiers, dressed in the white Capitol attire. Glancing around, I saw that the entire outline of where we were standing was bordered by Capitol soldiers. Even if it did occur to me to run, I had about a one in five billion chance of making it out alive. The Capitol had spared no expense as far as security was concerned. Maybe they thought that the people of District Eleven would try to fight the horrible injustice that was occurring, but I doubted it. They knew that they'd crushed us to the point where were wouldn't fight back, even being treated this way. My guess was that they wanted to assert their power over us more firmly. To remind the people of my district that the Capitol was supreme, and would continue to be.
"Four," Claire replied. Somehow she always seemed to know everything about everything that occurred in District 11. At first, I thought it was just because her dad was the leader of our forces. Now, however, I know it's just that's she's resourceful. She knows things because she makes it a point to know everything that's going on. As for me, I have always been content with just getting through it. I don't need to know every detail about something, just how long I needed to hold my breath until it's over. Claire was my opposite, but in a totally different direction from Natasha. A year older than me, Claire was constantly filling her head with information, even before the war. I could find her almost any day with her head in a book or learning a trade that she found useful. She'd learned to sew, cook, and set traps, all in one summer when we were younger. That's not to say that I was stupid or lazy, I was just never driven in the way that she was. She sought knowledge for its own sake, I accepted the knowledge that was forced on me.
"Any idea what time it is?"
She looked up at the sun, one hand coming up to provide a bit of protection from the sun. "About 3:55, give or take a minute." Another talent that she'd acquired when it suited her. She'd tried to teach me, but I was mediocre at best, which happened with everything she'd tried to teach me. Where she excelled, I was passable.
As though everyone had heard her, we all became quiet. Even the boys, on the opposite side, limited their conversations to whispers. Tension mounted as it became clear that this was both real and going to happen. Claire took my hand, squeezing it to give me the assurance that she was there and that everything would be alright. It would all be over in a matter of minutes, I told myself. I just had to survive from 4 o'clock to 4:15. If I could last those fifteen minutes, it would all be over.
If we had been quiet before, we were silent as the doors of the Justice Hall opened, revealing a Capitol solider in white, with gold embroidery along the cuffs, followed by two camera crews. As he approached the front of the steps, a microphone was placed in front of him, and the camera crews separated, one going to the girls side and one to the boys side.
"People of District Eleven," he began, standing up straight, his hands clasped together behind his back. "As you have been informed by the Capitol, in order for there to be justice for the betrayal of the districts against the Capitol, from now on, each year, one male and one female between the ages of twelve and eighteen from districts 1 through 12 will be chosen to compete in a fight to the death. They will serve as sacrifices. A tribute to the Capitol of the loyalty of your district. One victor will remain." His voice was even, which chilled me more than it would have if he'd been harsh. He was unfeeling, aloof to the worry and dread that was evident on every face in the crowd. "This is how you will repay the debt you owe to the Capitol for not making you meet the same fate as District 13." I felt Claire tense at the mention of the district which had been completely destroyed in the war.
"Should someone from your district win," the soldier continued, "your district will be given special privileges and benefits until the winner of the next years' has been decided as a sign of the Capitol's generosity. If the children from your district die, you will carry on as you had before." It shook me to the core to hear him say such a thing. Things would go on as before? If we lost, two people-two children would be dead. Nothing would be the same as it had been. I scanned the crowd, finding Henry's face among the mess of faces. What would it be like to "go on as before" if he died? There would be no going back, not if I lost anyone I knew. Especially not anyone I loved like I did Claire or my siblings.
Claire turned to me. "Don't worry," she assured me. "This can't last. We just need to get back on our feet again before we can fight these monsters into oblivion. I can't believe they're doing this to us. Animals." Looking at the soldier, as well the as the others, I felt anger begin to stir. Still, they didn't look any less human. They were just behaving like it. How they could look at all of us, like sheep ready for the slaughter, and not stop it, not even have the decency to look somewhat distressed, was beyond me.
I looked at the other standing around me. Most were younger than fifteen, if I judged correctly. The war may have hardened us and made us into adults more quickly, but the fear in our eyes betrayed our real ages at this moment. We were all thinking the same thing. Only one boy and one girl would be selected. Just one. That being the case, there was a really good chance that you weren't it. But still, there was the chance that you were.
"Now, for the selection." The doors to the Justice Hall opened, revealing two men in white rolling two large, glass bowls on a cart towards the speaker. We all stilled as we noted that the bowls were filled with little slips of paper. "Ladies first."
Claire gripped my hand tightly, to the point that I thought she would crush it, but I welcomed the pain. It took me to a place that was only half-way in reality, the other half a place where all that mattered was the pain. Neither of us dared to look at each other, afraid of what we might see the other doing, our eyes straight ahead at the soldier, who carefully placed his hand deep into the bowl, shifting his hand around for a moment before lifting his hand, a small slip of paper between in pointer finger and thumb.
A name was called.
And that name was mine.