The Hunger Games - Peeta
Note: For those who are reading my other stories, this is just a side project of mine I've been meaning to work on for the past year. It'll be updated in large chunks rather than small chapters, and I hope you enjoy and read and review. None of my other stories are being delayed due to this.
PART I
THE TRIBUTES
1.
You know, sometimes when I wake up, I imagine I'm not Peeta Mellark. I'm someone else, someplace better, and somewhere safe, with a different family, with a mother that actually loves her children with every ounce of her body… Somewhere where the Capitol that haunts my dreams doesn't exist, somewhere the reaping is a thing of the past. But you're probably thinking… Why am I telling you this? It's because today isn't just any normal day.
I considered just falling back to sleep, when shouting from the other room beckoned me to change my mind. I heard a humungous slam, which I guessed was the sound of the front door of the Bakery where I lived. It wasn't exactly grand, not by the standards of those in the Capitol… But it was home. We were lucky I suppose, I mean, with us being Bakers we always had plenty to eat. Well, not exactly plenty, but we never starved, not like some of the others who also lived in District 12.
I propped myself up from the cold hard sheets that made up my bed, and looked sadly around my room. This could be the last day I had here, it wasn't much, as I've already said, but it was home nonetheless.
At that moment my brother poked his head around the door, staring at me fearfully. I knew what was happening; Mother was having one of her episodes again, meaning that once again, as per usual… It was my job to protect my brothers, and take the brunt of her misfortune. I nodded to him quickly, before he smiled and shut my door. Swinging on my grey tinted jacket, which believe it or not, was once a pale white colour, I sighed before opening my door.
I'd woken up late, which was never a good thing, especially on reaping day, but even so, it was too late to do anything about it now. Mother just snarled at me, and walked away, mumbling about me needing to go and do something useful. I sighed, but obliged. Trekking from the Bakery, and out onto the streets, I suddenly realized that my father wasn't at home. He must have argued with my mother, which unfortunately was a common occurrence these days. Looking up and down the street, I set out following the footprints I believed he had left in the soft mud surrounding our road. If that's even what you'd call it. Looking out to the edge of District 12, I swore I could see a girl clambering through the electric fences that surrounded us, right at the edge of the Seam. You might be thinking… Electric Fences seem a little bit extreme? Well not here, the official explanation is that the fences protect us from what's out there, but we all knew they were to stop us getting out, that is when they actually worked.
The electricity here in District 12 was only available for around three hours a day, so most of the time it was safe to clamber through, but that wasn't for me. Before I could see exactly who the girl was clambering through the fence, she was gone; it was obvious her speed and skill was much greater than my own. I'd never be able to head out there, out in the forest. The risk was simply too great for me and the beating I'd get if I was found out would be even worse. And I'm not talking about the beating I'd get from the peacekeepers who surrounded our tiny piece of land, I'm talking about the beating I'd get from my mother.
"Uhm… Peeta?" came a voice behind me, timid, but hauntingly familiar.
I turned around, and came face to face with none other than Primrose Everdeen, a rare face around District 12. I knew who she was obviously, but her sister and mother were very protective of her, it as rare seeing her in the streets like this. I just smiled at her, as she explained that she'd seen my father walk past the house, and assumed I'd be looking for him.
"What's wrong Primrose?" I asked her, which obviously caught her off guard. The tear marks running down her cheeks were still damp, having not dried yet. She stared at me for a moment before sighing.
"I had – I kinda had a bad dream this morning." She admitted, wiping the sides of her face, trying to remove any traces of the tears I'd once spotted. I just smiled at her blankly; truthfully, it was rarer to have a good dream in District 12. I could probably count the nights where I slept well and had good dreams on a single hand. I just nodded and placed my hand on her shoulder.
"Don't worry Primrose; this'll only be the first year your name's been in there. They won't pick you. I promise." I said smiling gently, trying to ease her mind. She just nodded in response however, before looking at me once again.
"That's what Katniss said too…" she mumbled, before she turned and headed back off home. I decided to head out and look for my dad, if anything I already knew where to look, he never headed off far, and I knew his usual spots where he liked to head out and think.
It took me a good hour or so to find him, but eventually, at the other end of town, I found him, staring blankly at the forest.
"Dad?" I whispered, my voice quivering, as I noticed the alcohol bottle in his hand. It wasn't easy to get alcohol these days In District 12, but everyone had their ways I suppose. He shivered and turned to face me, his eyes bloodshot and filled with sadness.
"Peeta…" he cried gently, before padding up to embrace me gently. We stayed this way for the longest time, his emotions obviously getting the better of him, before he let go, composing himself. "I'm sorry for that Peeta, you know what your old man's like sometimes… It's just today's always hard for me, you know that."
I did, I always knew, because It wasn't just hard for him, it was hard for everyone. But I understood.
"Your mother doesn't make it any easier either. I love her Peeta, you know I do, it's just…" he sighed loudly, "I don't know how I'd cope if we lost you."
"Come on dad, it'll be like every other year, when it's over we'll be out there celebrating with everyone else, you'll see." I whispered to him reassuringly.
"But what if we don't Peeta? What if this year it's different?" he stared at me hauntingly, but then suddenly looked away. "Look… Never mind, come on, let's get you home."
The next few hours were like a blur, as usual. Upon returning home I got a mouthful from mother, but Dad just kept quiet and out of her way, not wanting to cause another fight.
Before long, I was staring into a mirror. I hated wearing these clothes, the simple plain shirt, the black trousers, so unlike me. But they were a requirement as such. I mean, we had to look our best on reaping day, heaven forbid. It was almost one o 'clock, and I was nervous, even more so than usual. It was odd, I shouldn't have been worried. Sure, my name was in there, more than a few times actually, because of my age, but the odds of me being chosen were pretty low. I know that Katniss had to enter hers in more than once, in exchange for tesserae.
Each tessera is worth a small amount of grain and oil, and obviously with that, the more times you enter your name, the more you get from it. The risk usually outweighs the cons. I mean, with some others having their name in four times, I wasn't exactly first of the line for being picked. But with it being cumulative, it increased every year, the older you were, the more times you had to put your name in.
I heard a tap at my door once again, except this time it was my father, stilling sobbing slightly. He stared at me in my mirror before placing his hand on my shoulder.
"Come on Son, it's time to go." He said bluntly, before walking out. It wasn't as if we could just not attend by the way, I can tell what you're thinking. Attendance is mandatory, if you were found anywhere other than the square while the reaping was underway you'd be imprisoned, no excuses, simple.
As we entered the square I stared up at the buildings around us, at the cameras projecting us up to the capitol, probably to the hundreds of people watching, who were watching us like pigs waiting for slaughter. We filed in slowly, and signed in. The reaping happened every year, but was a brilliant way for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well as its actual purpose. I watched helplessly as children younger than me were herded off to the front of the roped area nearest the front. Staring out I managed to see Primrose, and then Katniss, staring blankly at the stage in front of us. It was almost time.
The space between us all grew tighter and tighter, as the whole population of District 12 found it's way together. All eight thousand of us, in this small enclosed space was enough to make anyone feel nauseous, even without the games.
I focused my attention on the temporary stage setup before the JusticeBuilding, as the clock struck two o' clock. The mayor stood up abruptly and walked up to the set of microphones in the centre of the stage. Looking blankly at the crowd he read the same thing he did every year. He tells the story of Panem, the country that rose up from the ashes of what was once named North America. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, and the war, and what little remains. The result was Panem, and the shining capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the dark days, the uprising of the districts against the capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated beyond repair, gone forever. Then came the treaty of treason. New laws, and with it, The Hunger Games.
What are the Hunger Games you may as, well it's simple. In punishment for the uprising each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, named tributes to participate once a year. The twenty four tributes are then imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena where, over a period of a few weeks, they battle to the death. The last tribute alive wins the games.
There's only one good thing that comes from the Hunger Games, the victor gets an easy life from then on, and becomes a celebrity in their own right, never having to worry about food or water like the rest of the Districts… A fresh start.
The mayor then reads a list of past victors for District 12, but this didn't take long. In the last seventy four hunger games we only had two victors, with only one still alive. Haymitch Abernathy. Haymitch stumbled from the crowd as his name was read, drunkenly sprawling around, before stumbling onto the chair for him. Applause rang out across the square for him, he stared at us blankly, confused before Effie Trinket trotted to the stage smiling, as bright as ever.
"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" she exclaimed, with her signature phrase. Through the crowd I spotted Primrose looking at me sadly, I just nodded sadly and stared back to the podium.
"Ladies first!" she said, walking to the large glass bowl containing the names of every woman entered into the Hunger Games for District 12. She reached her arm in, and I swear in that very second you could hear a pin drop to the ground, everywhere was silent. Effie walked back slowly to the microphone, and unfolded the note before exclaiming in her loud obnoxious voice the one name I really didn't want to hear.
"Primrose Everdeen."