Note: I have not attended a Broadway show nor have I been to New York.
My name is Emma Price. I'm a senior in High School and I turn eighteen in three weeks on the day I graduate. I have a brother, Justin, who is younger than me by one year and my best friend. My parents own a local book store in the small town of Aurora, North Carolina where we have lived ever since I could remember. Spending the majority of my life surrounded by books has inspired me to write and when the summer is over I will attend the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia. Other than Track, I am not very athletic, but my brother and I often go rock climbing together. I never liked hunting even though my Father occasionally does it and I have never killed another living thing in my life. Had...I had never killed another living thing in my life.
I'm telling you these things because I want you to know who I was before it all began. Before they had forced me to change...Before I became someone I never wanted to be. I fought against it. I tried to hold on to myself, but in the end they broke me. They chipped away everything until all I had left was only hard and cold. Who I was no longer exists and I will never be able to go back.
Eight years. Eight years had passed since "The Hunger Games" trilogy had begun under the careful hands of its creator, Suzanne Collins. It's amazing how much had happened in that time as a loyal fan base grew quickly and three blockbuster films had been released. The series had rocketed to fame, capturing audiences around the world and providing a new adventure for all to obsess over,but soon it will all end.
Soon "MockingJay part two" will be released to theatres and after only a few more months it will come out on Blu-ray. Once again an series will come to a close and fans everywhere will lament its passing. I can already hear their sadden moans, but I honestly don't blame them. Being a fan myself I already dreaded the inevitable end. It was hard enough letting go of "Harry Potter" and it still hurts to even think about "Doctor Who"'s twelfth regeneration.
However, the blow might not be so bad as it will be softened by the fact that I would be attending the "Mockingjay" New York premiere. I had won a pair of tickets by pure luck as all sweepstakes are won in the end and received a three night stay at a four star hotel with roundtrip airfare included. My Mother, who is also a fan of "The Hunger Games", came with me and after a two and a half hour flight we arrived in the great city that never sleeps. It was hard to contain my excitement as I caught my first glimpse of New York City, the home of Broadway and some of my favourite authors. This was the place I had always dreamed of living one day. It was a dream I had held on to when I was young and believed that every great writer came to live in New York. Couple this excitement with the fact that I would be walking the red carpet soon and I found that I was unable to stop smiling. In that one moment everything was perfect.
Unfortunately, as life moves on so do those perfect moments, no matter how hard we try to hold on to them. Surprisingly my moment lasted longer than I would have thought and it wasn't until the next night that it slipped from my fingers. We had spent our one free day exploring the city, visiting the Empire State Building, taking pictures of the Statue of Liberty, and doing other things that are extremely popular with tourists. The last thing on our "To Do" list was to see a Broadway production and we chose "The Lion King" without hesitation. I never got to see it that night. No one did.
We were making our way to our seats located on the second balcony and to the side where you had to squint to see the performance. Most every one else was already seated and the production was about to start. There was an energy in the air as the audience buzzed quietly with excitement. As we passed several rows of filled seats I couldn't help but pick out the differences in the people. There were the ones that regularly came to Broadway for a show who sat calmly as they waited, the ones that never wanted to come and were slouched in their seats looking bored, and of course the ones who were like us, sitting forward in their seats in giddy anticipation. I loved identifying each of them as it was minor habit of mine whenever I found myself in crowds.
Checking my ticket several times for my seat number, we finally stopped in shadowy area of the balcony where halogen light ropes lined the floors like glowing snakes. Mom glanced back at me and we traded a secret smile as we had discovered our seats to be blocked by ten others who were already seated. The space left for those to walk past was narrow and it was immediately apparent that we would have to crab walk awkwardly through one at a time.
My Mom leaned in close to me, keeping her eyes on our two lonely seats. "What do you think?" She asked in a hoarse whisper. "Would they move out of the way for us?"
I eyed the line of people who continued to ignore us, noting that the majority consisted of sour faced elderly. "Not even if we asked nicely." I murmured in response. "We might as well just go through and pray that we don't trip over them."
Mom nodded in agreement although her slight frown told me that she would rather try her idea first. With a little nudging I managed to get her to go first, stepping aside as those on the end thankfully got up and moved for her. Quietly I went to stand against the wall only just noticing the curtain covered doorway to my right that bore an exit sign above it. Mom was only half way to our seats when a hush came over the theatre and the curtains pulled back from the stage. I heard the first cry of the iconic opening song and the responding cheers from the audience as the performers gathered. Fascinated, I forgot about following my Mom to our seats and barely noticed those waiting for me to go past them.
The beat of the song heightened with the performers' voices until it was hard to hear anything else. That's when it happened. That's when I felt the unexpected grasp of rough hands come from behind me and begin to drag me towards the curtained door. It all happened so fast that no one was able to stop me from being carried away.
Frantically I struggled against their hold as they tried to gag me while continuing to carry me down a darkened hall. Wrenching my head back I connected with my captor's face and felt something crunch against my skull. Colours burst in my vision, but I felt myself falling from their grasp and I stumbled for the door. I pulled back the curtains and only had time to meet my Mom's eyes as she looked back for me before I felt arms wrap around me. I will never forget the look on her face as I was lifted violently from the ground. Her face drained instantly of colour as her expression shifted quickly from happiness to shock to devastating terror. All at once she began frantically fighting against the legs of the people blocking her, screaming for someone to help, but only those close by could hear her over the din. It was like a ripple effect as they saw what she saw and began to get up and chase after me and my kidnappers, but by then it was too late.
As the remaining, oblivious, audience surged to their feet to applaud the first performance I let out a scream that ripped at my throat and then every light in the theatre shut down. Impenetrable darkness engulfed us and only my scream's echoes were heard as the applause died out into the chaos of the theatre. It echoed as a message to everyone that something terrible had happened and that it only marked the beginning. By then I was struggling to breathe past the bloodied hand clamped painfully over my mouth as I felt myself be carried further away from Mom and from my life.
Something cold was jabbed against my neck and I felt the swift pinch of a needle and then I was gone. The last thing I heard as I spiraled into darkness was the frantic screaming of my Mom and the clanging of a heavy metal door.