I don't own The Hunger Games or anything Suzanne Collins made up.
"I'm home." I say, exhausted as usual, opening the door to my small house. My jaw drops. My mother, with her blonde messy bun, and my 8-year-old sister Prim, short for Primrose, with her two plaits, are sitting at the table. But that's not what I'm staring at.
It's what's on the table. This yellow, no, not yellow, muddy vomit yellow, if there's such colour, ball of fluff, is there.
"What is that?" I ask, because I honestly have no clue what that is.
"It's a cat, Katniss." Prim says, smiling.
"Are you telling me, that that is a cat?" I take a step closer, it looks more like a mutated chicken to me.
"Yes Katniss, I found it outside, such a poor thing, digging for food, isn't he adorable?" Prim says, my mother is looking at me apologetically. If that thing is a cat, what has this world become?
Then, it turns around, oh, so that was its back, and I'm greeted with something I did not expect. The "chicken's" nosed is mashed-in, half of one ear is missing and it's eyes are the colour of rotting squash. It's confirmed, my sister has to go to a mental hospital. But we're too poor, and this house is sort of a hospital. Anyways, that "mutated chicken" is actually a cat. How nice.
"What's it doing here?"
"It's her new pet," My mother says.
"WHAT?" I shout. She can't be serious.
"What's wrong, Katniss?" Prim asks, completely unaware of my instant dislike to the furry creature.
I groan, "That thing is hideous!" I probably shouldn't be the one to talk, though. I'm just as filthy.
Prim gasps, "It's not a "thing"! It's my new pet cat and he's called Buttercup."
You have got to be kidding me.
"Buttercup?" I ask, I'm tired from hunting, my dark brown braid is loose and I'm still slightly out of breath. I'm only twelve but I have to support my family, ever since my father died. What a life. But back to the "chicken". What possessed my sister to name him that?
"His fur matches the colour of a buttercup." She replies, her face a mix of hurt and confusion.
A buttercup? She really needs her eyes checked, doesn't she?
I'm about to open my mouth to respond, but my mother holds up one hand and says, "It's her new cat, Katniss, we're keeping it. Be the mature twelve year old you are and accept it."
Of course mom would side with Prim. I sigh and give my bag of dead animals to my mother, then I glare at the "chicken", and go to the bedroom.
Inside the small room, I lie down on the small bed that Prim and my mother sleep on. "Another mouth to feed, wonderful..." I mutter to myself.
The next day I wake up early in the morning to see Prim and my mother still sound asleep on the bed. And guarding them is the "chicken". I could actually get rid of it now. Actually, that's a great idea! I walk over to pick it up, it tries to escape but fails. I take it outside and set it down, then I find a bucket and fill it with water, turning around frequently to make sure the soon-to-be victim doesn't escape. He seems rather...calm. Weirdo. Hopefully, Prim won't wake up any minute now. I pick it up again, and am about to drop it into the bucket, when...
"NO!" Prim is standing at the door, her blonde hair is sticking up in different directions and she looks horrified.
I freeze, busted. The "chicken" just a few inches above the water.
My mother, shows up, a bigger version of Prim, she yawns, "Katniss, what are you doing?" She asks me in an annoyed, tired voice.
"Drowning the cat, well, trying to." I mumble.
Prim runs forward and snatches Buttercup from me. "Why would you want to kill such a perfect cat?" She looks like she's going to cry any minute now. And here comes all the guilt. I love Prim more than anything, I'd even risk my life for her. But seriously, that cat needs to go.
"Sorry," I mumble, staring at the ground. Prim nods and walks back into the house, stroking the "chicken" and comforting him.
My mother gives me a weary look. "Don't do that again, we're keeping the cat. Deal with it." And she follows Prim, leaving me standing outside in my pajamas.
I sit on the door step and stare at the ground. I guess I'll have to live with Buttercup. He probably hates me now, not that I blame him. If we both ignore each other and mind our own business, I think that will work, it's the only way I won't keep having the urge to kill him. It has to work. For Prim.
:)