Woodlands
An Autobiography By Johanna Mason
Chapter 1: Liar, Liar Pants On Fire.
My name is Johanna Mason and I am insane. They make me say that before every session of therapy, just thought I'd say it now… Anyways, I am here to give all of you willing to read it, a view on my birth, life, and soon to be death. Here's a little bit of an introduction.
At first glance, I look to be about 20 or 23. It doesn't matter much to me, it's still rather flattering, considering I'm 95 years old. The capitol has given me, in turn for my kissing of their asses, free healthcare for my mental incapabilities. Little did I know that they'd be adding their freakish anti- aging shit in with my anti-depressants. I know most dumb asses would be happy if they could live forever. In my case, immortality is like an inescapable hell, weighing my heart and head to the brim with hatred, scorn and hostility. Let's put that in a more succinct fashion. For me, life's a bitch that won't shut up.
A while ago, say 40 years back, I was a spy. I worked for the revolutionary spy ring. Actually, I was at the head of the whole enchilada. But here's another thing, I was a double agent, working for both sides, Revolutionary AND Capitolist. Although most would call it a traitorship, traitor is a rather harsh word to describe myself. What would I call it then, you ask? I'd call it… Multitasking rather than Betrayal if that makes sense to anyone.
Most wonder why I did it, and I see no issue in confessing my secrets, for when anyone of importance reads this, I will be dead. So here goes.
If there is one thing on this wretched earth I hate more than the color pink, it is a liar. A blatant, bold faced, liar. That's all that was happening between the Capitolists and the Revolutionaries; lies. You know, 'he said' 'she said' crap. So, I decided to tell each side the truth. Technically I did nothing wrong. Maybe by morals and sissified trust bonds was I against the law, but by Panem rule, it was unlawful to punish me how they did.
Did I say punish? Excuse me, I meant TORTURE. The Capitolists may be all pretty and pristine, but behind the silk and glitter, they are some of the scariest fuckers to mess with. and guess what? I fucked with them twice by force and still, later in life I chose to do it again. Willingly. So I guess I'm one bad bitch. That's why they don't like to play around with me. Yeah, I'm pretty badass.
I had to become a badass over the years to keep alive. I had my first taste of Badass adaptation at age 8 when…. Well. Why don't I just bring you into me and I'll show you things through my eyes. That's the best way to learn and truly understand.
Here's my pathetic excuse for a forewarning. This is some messed up shit, right here. What I'm saying right now is neither bullshit, lies, or distorted memories from a hi-jack torture victim. Nothing is fabricated, nor exaggerated. This is all what life in my shoes is…was. like. It is highly recommended of those who are of weak stomach, of a young age, or someone that has never read the hunger games trilogy, written by Suzanne Collins in the true stories of her ancestor, Katniss Everdeen….It is recommended of you to just look away and forget you ever saw this first page. My life is too sad, gory, Profane, Horrifying, and Hostile to fathom. Here's to all of you dumbasses that haven't read Katniss' books. What the hell are you doing here? Why did you pick up a book, CLEARLY associated with a book series you've never read? GROW A BRAIN DUMBASS! Anyways, no wussies, no little kids and no dumbasses. OKAY, let's go back 88 years ago when it finally dawned on me, all the ways my country hath betrayed me.
Chapter 2: The Dress.
It was a sunny morning in May. Unusual, for District 7 spring weather. This whole spring and even in winter, it was pouring rain constantly. The only time we get a break from the rain is in Fall, and Summer. I don't mind much, though. Rain is wonderful. It keeps our Wooded areas wooded, therefore keeping bread on the table and coin in pocket. Father used to work in the high ranks at the lumber facility. He died a couple of months ago, a tree smashed into his office and crushed him… Nothing even to bury. My mom, however, I have no idea about her, she died when I was a week old, nobody would tell me how. Our family is kind of dysfunctional , I know that. But I love them all the same I have two older brothers, Derrave, who is 14; and Mordecai, who is 12. I also have younger sister, she was adopted when daddy was alive, and he died when she was a week old…. We don't have a proper guardian, our Uncle Jumbo pops in every three, four months to 'Check on us' when really, he's just making sure we aren't lacerated, or dead and to collect his paycheck.
The sunlight seeps through the thin green curtain and into my eyes, awakening me. That isn't the only factor to my awakening. My one month old little sister, Fauxa, lays in her crib next to our bed, squalling and bawling loudly. She wants a bottle so I stumble out to the kitchen to make a mix of formula for her. As I trudge to the sink groggily, I catch a glimpse of my older brother, Derrave, grasping a shiny material, a garment of sorts. The simple child I was, I walked silently behind him and tapped his shoulder gently. He looks over his shoulder and sits up abruptly.
"What's that?" I asked innocently. I try to stroke the fabric, but Derrave shoots up, eyes wide and glistening.
"It's mine! You can't have it! Get AWAY!" He shoves me away, making me trip and land on my butt, his voice raises into a shrill tone. Tears fill my eyes as he glares at me and clutches the cloth. I don't like it when Derrave is like this. This is a usual thing, his eyes dilate fully, filling his blue eyes with deep black holes, the veins in his face throb and bulge out, his nostrils flare, and his muscles stretch taught. He looks absolutely feral , and is. He will attack practically anything he has his eyes set on, like a shark he will just rip through anything when he's like this, he ripped our couch to shreds last year when his twin sister, celeste, died in the hunger games, and I'm afraid that he will hurt me now, and hurt me really bad. Derrave isn't right in the head. I try to scream for Mordecai to come and help me, but no sound escapes my lips. Three seconds later, The light switch flicks on and I look towards the doorway to see none other than Mordecai.
"Derrave, What are you doing with the dress out? !" Mordecai stands in the doorway , looking only at the dress. His sights then settle on me, propped up by my elbows on the floor, tears running down my face.
" Don't you hurt Jo! She is just a simple child, she meant no harm to you or The dress. Are you okay, Johanna?" He walks toward me, wipes the tears from my face , and sits me down on a chair.
"You stay out of this Mordecai! You don't know Shit about this dress!" Derrave whisper shouts as he approaches Mordecai, swiftly and carefully setting the dress down on the counter. They finally are face to face. Although Mordecai is only 12, he is the same size as Derrave, who is 14.
"Did you ever kiss mom with that mouth before she died?" Mordecai spits at Derrave. Derrave finally lost his mind and attacked, he drew back his fist and decked Mordecai. I've seen kids fight at school, but never have I seen Mordecai and Derrave get violent with each other. I just sat in my chair and whispered for Mordecai to stop fighting. After Derrave's punch, Mordecai had taken over the fight, and was sitting on Derrave's Chest, Hammer-Fisting him in the face. My whispers turned to speech and then to shout, but he never seemed to hear me. He must have heard me over the Profanity spewing from Derrave's mouth at some time, because he jumped up and yanked Derrave with him over to the table and threw him down into a chair. He was a mess, blood streaming from his nose, his platinum blonde hair matted down and turned red with blood. Mordecai only had a brownish green bruise on the side of his face, turning slightly purple. I got Mordecai an ice pack and he asked me if I was hurt. Nothing was really fractured on me but my feelings and a little bit on my elbows where I fell. A half an hour passes, the silence so loud it could be heard through the roar of Chainsaws in the distant forest, and the tension so thick in the air it could be cut with a knife. Mordecai is the one to cut it.
"Now, do you want to tell her, or should I?" He says calmly looking in my direction.
"Why should we tell her anything? We can't change what happened by telling her!" shouts Derrave with a swollen mouth.
"Well, mush- mouth, we have to tell her why you flipped shit about the dress. Who it belonged to, you know. We have to talk about mom, and Celeste too, I don't care how uncomfortable it makes you, because I can make you less comfortable if you chose to do not say anything." Mordecai finishes, a menacing glance at Derrave is thrown. Derrave pauses for a few moments, and a tear slips from his eye.
"Okay." He quivers, his voice breaking.
"Okay, what?" Says Mordecai.
"Okay, we'll start with mom." Whispers Derrave, his voice breaking as the tears fall from his eyes and into the cloth of The beautiful silken dress. I stare at it in bewilderment as the boys begin their story.
Chapter 3: Like Mother Like Daughter
Derrave just sat and sobbed for a moment, Mordecai cleaning and dressing his wounds. The dress lay on the table, sprawled out, and unstained. Under close examination ,I concluded that it was made of pure silk, and it was embroidered along the waistline. It was pearly white and about the softest Material I had held in my whole life, nothing matched its soft texture. And its scent was not unlike that of a fresh spring morning in the meadows. I continued to stroke the corner of it, as Derrave gathered his bearings. He cleared his throat and began to speak.
"Mom." He begins slowly. A choked sob escapes my throat, and Derrave's facial veins bulge as Mordecai pulls me into his lap, and there I sat, listening intently to Derrave.
" She was very beautiful, talented, young, happy. She always smiled. She found herself pregnant with me and Celeste , when she was just 12, a one night stand with the mayor's son." I look to Mordecai for an explanation, he raises his eyebrows to Derrave.
"Sorry Jo. What I mean is that mom thought that the mayor's son loved her, and that she loved him, so they had me and Celeste," He smiles, but it fades with his next words
" About eight years ago, It was the day of the Second Quarter Quell reaping. The twist to the rules that year was twice the amount of tributes. Two Male and Two Female from each district. Well, they called the first girl, the first guy… then…" He pauses , his jaw tensing and tears cutting a trail down his face.
"Keep going, bro. You Gotta keep going, for Jo's sake." Mordecai grasps Derrave by his shuddering shoulders looking into his eyes, no matter how much he resisted. There's something about Mordecai's eyes that when you look into them, its both mesmerizing and entrancing, like looking into a thick fog and seeing a shining bright light beneath it all. It gives you a sense of hope and confidence... Derrave gives in and catches Mordecai's eyes, his own fully de- dilating rapidly.
"Keep going." He repeats finally, in a smoother tone. Sure enough, Derrave continues with the story.
"The second female chosen, was mom. She wasn't yet 19, so she was still eligible. She had to leave all of us behind and go into the hunger games, all because of what some people did hundreds of years ago." He stares blankly at the wall and pulls his knees up to his chest and begins to rock back and forth, the dress clutched tightly in his gangly arms. Sobs rack his entire body with shudders that nearly throw him off of the chair. Mordecai almost has to tell him to continue on with the story, but all of a sudden, through his incessant wails and gasps for breath, he utters a few more words
"This….was…her…dress." He finishes, finally looking up from the floor, eyes wide, the feral look in them long gone. His stony expression is nowhere to be seen. He just looks like a small bloody child, confused, alone, and hurt. I just look at Derrave for a little while, then I look to Mordecai. He has been letting silent tears fall.
"Mordecai?" I ask quietly, wiping the tears from his cheeks .
"Yes, Johanna?" he asks sweetly.
"What about Celeste?" I whisper below Derrave's earshot.
"Perhaps…" Mordecai begins but pauses.
"What?" I ask swiftly.
"Perhaps, we should let Derrave tell that tale another day, he's talked all he can for now." He hands me Fauxa's baby bottle
"Let's get ready for school, huh?" he smiles down at me , eyes bright and encouraging. I run off to our room and feed little Fauxa, she had fallen back asleep while we argued in the kitchen. I often times wish that I was her age, innocent and most likely without a clue of what was going on around me. All this dysfunctionality is far too confusing to grasp, though I'm much wiser than the average eight year old.
After feeding Fauxa, Mordecai slips in and takes her off of my hands so that I can get ready. Today is Mordecai's day to stay with the baby while we all go to school. Since we have no guardians, we have to go to school on a certain schedule. Mondays, are My shift, Tuesdays are Derrave's; Wednesdays are Mordecai's girlfriend, Isabelle's Shift. Thursdays, like today, are Mordecai's and we all take Fridays off to watch her. But tomorrow, every kid is off of school, every adult is off of work, all over panem. It's a holiday of sorts. Perhaps you've heard of it before? The Reaping, I believe it's called….