It's hard not being able to talk. Especially now, because I literally can't. I'm an Avox. But I realized I've been silent my whole life.
Fray and I had made it to the forest. We didn't know what district we were in anymore, we lost track after being caught stealing apples from farmers in District Eleven. With only three apples, we feasted. We were from District Eight, textiles. The industry was treacherous, and once one turned twelve, you were sent to work in the factories. Fray was eleven, and I was barely seventeen.
"Lavinia," he said, "what do we do now?" He was clearly frightened.
"I guess we hide," I suggested. It wasn't easy going incognito when your hair was an impossible shade of scarlet that always glistened, even in the dark. I gave my shivering brother a hug, and urged him to move farther into the forest.
Fray and I escaped. We lived in what one could call a stable home, but really, it was everything except stable. My mom had very bad anger issues, and made it a habit to beat us whenever nobody was around. Fray and I didn't do anything, though. We avoided stares from people on the streets and in the factories, ignoring their hushed whispers whenever we came to work with scrapes, lash marks, or bruises.
Where was my father, you ask? He was a drunk. And when he was sober, he instantly took to a bottle and drowned himself away from reality.
Fray and I found ourselves a tree when we sat down. Fray fell asleep and shored softly, resting in the crook of my arm. I begin to drift away. To a place where Fray and I were safe, healthy, and happy.
It was only a month ago when I decided to leave. Find a better life amongst another district with my funny little brother.
However, we soon discovered it wasn't easy.
We found ourselves constantly hiding from the public eye, because word had gotten out quick that we were missing. We stole inconspicuously, just enough to wake up the next day. Carefully traveling at night, we could see ourselves on screens of televisions on storefronts, with a ransom if we were found.
We were miserable. But we couldn't go back.
***
Back in the forest, I woke to the sound of a helicopter. I glanced above.
The Capitol. They'd had found us, somehow. I attempted to shake Fray. He mumbled a few words, but wasn't fully conscious. "Fray," I whispered forcefully, "please get up. The Capitol is here. They found us. Please, please, please. Fray," I whimpered. I attempted to drag him, and the whirring of the helicopter grew louder.
It was coming. This is our end.
"Fray! Fray!" He had to get up, so we could get away. I wasn't going to give up. I've come too far for this.
I was shaking the asleep boy when I heard a rustle behind me. I whipped my head around in desperation. A thin girl in hunting gear quietly stared at me from behind a bush. Her long brown hair was in a braid, and her steely gray eyes burned into my own.
"Help! Help! Help me pl-" I was cut off by a gunshot. Peacekeepers from above were raining bullets on us. One hit me in the arm, and I continued to cry to my brother, to the girl, to whoever could hear me. For mercy, for surrender, for help, for safety.
The bullets didn't stop, even with viscous blood flowing from my arm. I whimpered, whispering to Fray over and over. And finally he decided to return to Earth, to Panem, with sleepy eyes.
"What's with the noise?" He looked up from his lying position and bam.
A bullet hit him. Right in the head. He was dead before I could warn him. I cried out in agony, kneeling by my kid brother, calling for him, searching for a heartbeat or a pulse that was no longer there.
Through my sobs of pain, I noticed the mysterious girl had disappeared.
Who cared, though? It didn't matter. Fray was gone. I sobbed into my brother's chest, wishing I was dead.
I passed out into blackness, my last thoughts being how Fray would never see a real home or real happiness.
I woke up in a cell. People were glancing at me from behind bars, and by their hideous looks, I knew.
I was captured and taken to the Capitol.
I didn't care, though, my brother was dead. Let them do away with me. I wanted to die.
But as it turned out, my fate was much worse. Once they found me conscious, I was whisked to an operating room. A man with a sneer restrained me to a cold, metal table with chains. In entered another man, who read a bracelet on my arm.
"Lavinia Reed, District Eight. Any last words?" The doctor laughed a cold, harsh laugh. And as I opened my mouth to spit some biting words, a nurse shoved my head to the table as another thrust my mouth open. The doctor grabbed a scalpel from a cabinet, it's blade so fine, delicate, and evil.
During the procedure, pain coursed through my mouth, so sharp, so bloody, and as I struggled, I realized this was my fate all along. I was silent to the world, only a citizen without a voice to the Capitol, and to my family, a girl who decided to speak up, but only when it was too late.