Let it be known that I do not own the Hunger Games, I only own the OCs presented in this story (Angora, her parents, Tress, and others.) I would love, love, love reviews. They help become a better writer and helps me to see what my readers think. Sometimes you guys give AMAZING ideas and you may even see them in the next chapter! So let me know what you think. Be honest. Be brutal if you need to, I promise I won't cry over it. Truth is, I have written many, many fanfictions under another pseudonym. However, it has been a very long time since I have actually written something, so I am a bit rusty. Help me out, damn it.
Oh and by the way, this is a rated M story, meaning there will be a bit of smuttiness. Nothing TOO crazy, considering this site doesn't allow it. I'll push the limits though... Now, onto the story.
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Cool air whipped through the darkened room as Angora Shea turned over on her small bed. It was raining loudly outside while bells tolled in the distance, causing her to pop open her emerald eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was work today, but working in the factory, as a seamstress apprentice, was a privilege, not a right. The textile district wasn't the nicest and constantly smelled of, what Angora would call, urban decay. Not to mention, the pay was horrible which caused people to make sacrifices and the sacrifice that Angora made was to not continue with school. No, instead she went to work at the factory full time after her father was severely injured by peacekeepers. When he did still work, her father was one of the managers of a warehouse. His job was to check in bolts of fabrics, make sure all the numbers matched and made sure all of the employees did their jobs. Her mother was a seamstress and was considered the best in the district. Peacekeepers often brought their uniforms to her and waited around the small house for them to be repaired and refitted. Most people in the district would be unnerved by having peacekeepers in their home, but the Shea's were used to it, despite one altercation.
As wind continued to move through the room, the brunette rolled over and stretched, making sure she took her time getting out of bed. It was just one of those dreary days when most people didn't want to move. However, Angora loved dreary weather, she just didn't feel like going to work. Who did? She could hear her mother's footsteps in the next room. She would start making breakfast soon, if you consider lukewarm porridge a breakfast. . Angora would normally skip breakfast, wanting to make sure her parents ate, especially her father. He needed to keep his strength up. Angora, finally, stood up and walked over to the clothing she tossed on the floor the night before. She didn't have many outfits, she couldn't afford them. Even if her mother was the best seamstress in district 8 and even though Angora worked full time at the factory, they still couldn't make enough to get by.
"Angora, have some breakfast before you leave."
"I'll pick something up in the market." She wasn't looking at her mother, but she knew she was frowning. She could feel it. "I'll be fine, ma," she assured her with her slight southern accent.
Angora stood by the table and waited for her father to enter. She made sure to always say goodbye to him, just in case. Within a few moments, he wheeled himself into the kitchen. It bothered her to see him in such a state, even after five years. After he had adjusted himself in his chair, he smiled up at his daughter. "Up a little earlier than usual, eh?"
"We have the mayor coming in today with the new Peacekeeper commander. I guess they are doing a sweep of the factories to make sure everyone is doing what they are supposed to be doing."
Her father looked dismayed and she knew why. The last time the Peacekeepers checked in on factory workers, her father was nearly beaten to death, all for defending a co-worker. "Well, make sure to keep your nose clean."
Angora let a soft smile play at her lips. "I will. I'm just going to pretend they aren't there. To be honest though, I don't even think they'll talk to me. Margaret and I will be doing a lot of work on the new bolts that just came in. Lots of orders to fill, you know."
As Angora headed out, her mother followed and stopped in the door, reaching out and gently grabbing her daughters elbow. Her slender fingers slipped some money into her hand. "Please pick up your fathers medication. It isn't much but Tress said she would take it."
Angora nodded. Tress was the nurse that took care of the family. After her father was injured, she began to supply the family with cheap herbs to help him with his pain. District 8 had no greenery. Angora wasn't even sure if she had ever seen a leaf, let alone a full blown plant. But that didn't matter. Tress always had a supply. Surely someone must have been giving them to her. And to Angora, as long as her father was able to get medication, she was happy. What she wasn't happy about was that her mother always insisted on paying for it when she was only paid a small wage from each peacekeeper that passed through. "Mom, I'll handle it."
"No, take it. You help us enough by working as hard as you do."
Before Angora could even think about arguing, her mother kissed her on the cheek and shut the door. The girl pursed her lips before turning and heading into town. The sun wasn't all the way up just yet, so she had a little bit of time to find Tress. As she walked, she placed the money into her pocket. There was no way she was going to use it. Instead, she would give Tress what she got paid yesterday. Angora had every intention of placing her mother's money back into her wallet when she got home. Honestly, Angora never used her mother's money to pay for her father's medicine. She always used her own, often sneaking the money she was given back into a pocket, a drawer, and a jewelry box, whatever she could find really. Her mother never seemed to notice, she always thought that she had just placed money in certain spots on accident. It had worked for the past two years and Angora was going to keep doing it, even if her mother caught on.
Just outside a dusty little shop, about a half mile away from Angora's shack of a home, lived Tress. Her back was pushed up against one of the wood poles that kept her house stable. She smiled at Angora as she fished in her pocket and pulled out a small vial. Shaking it in the air at her, she said, "Thought your mother was coming?"
Angora neared, smiling at the woman. "I suppose she's going to be busy most of the day. That's usually what happens. Peacekeepers in and out of the house. You know the deal."
Tress, with her short cropped black hair and baby blue eyes, nodded. "Yeah, but at least it brings in a bit more money."
When Angora was close enough, they made an exchange and she dropped the vial into her pocket. "Now make sure he is given two drops into food or water, every six hours."
Angora nodded. This wasn't the normal medicine that Tress gave her. Something new perhaps? Angora inquired about it, wanting to know what she was giving her father. Tress explained that the medication she had acquired would make her father's pain far more manageable, in a less amount of time and with less use. "As you know, the last vial I gave your father was every two hours and he needed about 4-5 drops each time. The plant that I used for this medicine is significantly more powerful. It should also give him a bit of an energy boost. He should feel a lot better."
This was a relief. It's been way too long since her father has actually felt okay. His pain was managed with the old medicine but it just didn't seem like enough. Tress made it sound like this time around, he would feel like a super hero. As much as Angora wanted to run home and give it to him now, she had to wait. It she didn't hurry, she would be late for her shift.
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After her nine hour shift at the factory, Angora headed home with the vial bouncing around in her pocket. Upon entering her home, she saw a peacekeeper standing in the middle of the room, her mother standing in front of him. She was busy pinning fabric and making marks on the uniform of the man in front of her. Angora cleared her throat after a moment, causing her mother to look up. Her glasses sat on the end of her nose and she smiled. "Hi sweetheart. Your father is in the kitchen."
With some difficulty, she slipped past the peacekeeper and moved into the kitchen. Pulling the vial from her jacket, she handed it to her father. "Tress said this one is more potent. Only two drops every six hours. And, like always, take it with food or water," she said in a hushed tone. The peacekeeper in the other room didn't need to know that the family was finding ways to mask their patriarchs pain.
Angora stepped over to the stove and peeked into a large pot that was sitting on the front burner. It looked like stew. No meat, just vegetables. Meat was too expensive, unfortunately. But her father needed protein, desperately, and her mother might have been too busy to go. That just meant that tomorrow she would drag herself out of bed early and head to the market and haggle.
She scooped some of the veggie stew into a bowl and placed it in front of her father. He smiled up at her before plunging his spoon into it. "How was work?" His voice was gruff, low and held the same southern accent as Angora and her mother did.
"It was all right. Peacekeepers didn't bother us, like I said." That was a lie. The commander actually stopped in to speak to them first. He had inquired about Angora's mother and of course, Angora had to answer all his questions. He mentioned he would be visiting the house soon for some custom made uniforms. 'They never get the inseam just right,' he had said. Angora didn't really care, as long as no one else hurt her family.
Her answer seemed to satisfy him, so he began to eat. It wasn't long after Angora got home that her mother finished up the peacekeepers uniform and he was on his way. Her mother sat down with them and shared some of her stories for the day. Angora told them hers, leaving out the peacekeeper inspection, of course. It was nice to be able to sit with her parents but normally, she was exhausted after a day at the factory. Normally, Angora retired pretty early, but tonight she made sure to go to bed earlier, for she needed to get up earlier than normal tomorrow. She bid her parents a goodnight, each with a kiss on the cheek and took herself up to bed. As she laid there, waiting for sleep to take her, she couldn't help but wish that she lived in the Capitol, where she didn't have to worry about peacekeepers beating one of her parents, where they would get their next meal from, how many hours would they have to work just to afford a few scraps of meat, or anything else the rich could care less about.