A/N- First, a thank you to LoveTheBoyWithTheBread, my beta. She's amazing. Love you to bits, Mel! And I don't own The Hunger Games. Not by a long shot. To establish context, this picks up right as Glimmer is dying from tracker jacker poison. This will be multichapter, but I'm not sure when I'll have the next chapter up.
As my sister dies on screen, screaming and thrashing, I'm faced with a choice. I have to abandon something, and soon. I'm now forced to choose what.
I can choose my sister. I can forget her horrific death at the hands of these Games. I can think of her as just another loser and sink back into the savage joy of watching tributes die. I can ignore or deny the memories of my favorite sibling, my Glims. But I don't have to. There's another choice.
I can choose the Games. I can honor my older sister and hate the instrument of her death. I can forget everything I've been taught for fifteen years. I can totally and utterly change my way of life. Can't I?
I don't want to forget my older sister, but every time I reach out toward her memory, I feel my heart flutter in fear. It's too much! How can I start thinking the Games are evil, just like that? I can't just forget everything I've ever been told is right. It's like I'm hanging off the edge of a cliff. My handhold is crumbling. I can reach out and grab onto something else, but I'm afraid I'll fall. I don't have forever to choose, either. If I keep holding on with just one hand and leaving the other outstretched, I'm going to fall. If I don't cling to one or the other, I won't get to make my decision at all. The Hunger Games will decide for me.
Glimmer's last scream is cut off by an ugly gurgle. My parents and four other siblings watch, open-mouthed in rapture. They love this sort of thing, the really nightmarish deaths. But…I do too, don't I? Yeah. Yeah, I do. But this is Glimmer. This feels different.
"Ehmagosh!" Illusion babbles, "This is amazing! Glimmer'd love this if she wasn't dying!"
"But she is, Illy." Points out Queen, my other sister.
"Still, if you have to go, that's a cool way to go." Chips in Riches, my youngest sibling. He's only nine. Fame has stayed silent through all of this. He's dumber than rocks, so I'm not surprised.
"Look look look look look!" Riches shouts, desperately redirecting our attention toward the T.V. Apparently we really need to see what's going on.
It's her. That Everdeen girl who killed my sister. My family erupts into booing and profanities. I growl under my breath. I hate her. We all do. We are Careers, after all. We love to hate and we love death. But Everdeen killed my sister, and it's personal now.
I tune out the insults flying past my head and watch the television harder than ever before. Everdeen doesn't look to good, I note with relish. She stumbles to my sister's body, a body that she made, and pulls pathetically at Glimmer's bow. My fingernails bite through the skin of my palms and I clench my fists even harder, savoring the pain and the heat of the welling blood. It's the perfect complement to the primal hate that my heart seems to be pumping instead of blood. My family has gone deathly silent, our bodies tense and stretched tightly towards the T.V. I can see the killer shining in all of our eyes, even Richie and Illy who aren't even old enough to participate in the reaping yet. The entire Radican family is going to hate Everdeen for the rest of our lives.
A realization knocks my breath away.
I only see hate on my family's faces. There's no sadness for the death of a daughter and sister, and even my own grief…I forgot it for a moment. I was lost in my Career's aggression. How could I-
Sir crows in excitement. My eyes sweep back to the T.V. as Lover Boy tells his little girlfriend to beat it and Cato lunges forward.
Mellark intercepts Cato with a slash of his spear. Stupid. He's no match for a Career, even one from District 2. It's over soon. The cameras zoom in on Cato's face. Mellark is pinned under his knees, bleeding and panting. He's a goner.
"Was she really worth it, Lover Boy?" He hisses.
"Yes. She's worth anything." Mellark says without hesitation, his voice strained by pain.
Cato chuckles. "You're funny. I think I'll let you bleed out."
He punches Lover Boy in the face one more time and stalks off.
The T.V. cuts to commercial.
We howl in anger. Riches swears loudly, throwing one of his little boy tantrums.
"No fair! Kill him, kill him!" Shrieks Illy. The Hunger Games are gone, replaced by a very pink commercial. I can see the unsatisfied murderer inside my sister; I can feel the same in me. How could that Cato kid stop? He let that stupid Lover Boy go. He's lost his edge, and he's still got the nerve to call himself a Career.
Illusion thrashes in bottled bloodlust. All of the girls have had their nails filed to points, and Illy's flailing arm scratches Fame's face.
"Hey!" He growls, shoving her off the couch.
Illusion's head snaps toward him. She hisses and launches herself at him, sinking her teeth into his shoulder. He bellows in pain and falls forward, crushing Illy.
"Illusion!" Ma'am snaps, deciding that Illy was the instigator.
As Illy and Fame fight like dogs on the floor, Richie shouts, "It wasn't her fault!" Figures. He and Illusion are as close as Glimmer and I. Queen of course jumps to Fame's defense. There's no questions about whose loyalty lies where among us kids.
He shoves her, she slaps back (and let me tell you, when Queen slaps you it hurts) and before you know it they're in a full-on fistfight as well. They aren't as evenly matched as Fame and Illusion though, with Queen being almost twice Riches' age. Ma'am grumbles and forcibly inserts herself between Fame and Illy.
"Arrowhead! Get Riches and Queen." She snaps ay Sir. He sighs, pulls Queen off of Riches, and shoves her to the floor. Richie lunges at her, and sir grabs him around the back of the neck. Riches makes a choking sound as Sir yanks him backwards and slams him into the wall. Queen scrabbles rabidly, trying to right herself and attack Richie again. Before she's on her feet Sir kicks her hard in the side and she collapses with a yelp. Ma'am has dragged Fame and Illusion into the kitchen and locked them into the closets. I can hear the banging and swearing coming from the adjoining room. Sounds like we may need to replace the closet doors again.
I sit frozen on the couch; I'm observing everything, but my emotions are all busy right now, otherwise occupied by the reappearance of the Hunger Games.
Everdeen screams and thrashes, gripped by hallucinations. The text scrolling across the bottom of the screen is explaining the hallucinogenic effects of those big bees. Apparently it could kill her. How wonderful.
"Go to sleep, Lightning." Ma'am snaps.
Sir grabs the back of my shirt and sends me stumbling toward my, or our, bedroom. Still in a daze I push the door open. Six cots are arranged in the room. Four lining the walls, and two in the center for the oldest, Queen's and Glims'. But I guess tomorrow Queen's bed will be alone. Because Glimmer isn't going to be coming back.
