So, as I begun in the summary. I really need reviews because I actually do not know where I should go with this story. I have a slight idea, but I really want to see what you guys come up with. Please help me out. 8D
DISCLAIMER. I do not own the characters, the settings or anything about the Hunger Games. The amazing Suzanne Collins does.
CHAPTER ONE
My eyes quickly open as I hear someone banging on my door. Of course, I instantly know who it is. Mother, trying to get me to wake up as yet another boring day in District Twelve starts. I don't know why she stayed around here, giving up her days as a hunter when she married father, twenty-eight years ago. I hate thinking that she gave everything up for him and he could still bake, still paint, still do everything he liked. Then again, it's not like I know anything that happened years ago, like I know what it actually felt like to be at war and to lose everyone, or almost, you loved at once. I've been told stories about my aunt prim, and a few of my mother and my father's friends, over and over again. How they both barely made it out of these things called the hunger games. But then, how everything just got worse after that. I know I'm supposed to feel happy that those things are over. To be honest, I do see how they could have been seen as horrible back then. After seeing some tapes without my parents knowing, of course, I do think it was absolutely horrible of the government to put it's people true such suffering each year.
Since the last hunger games, which was the third quarter quell, I've been told by many people, who seemed not to mind talking about those time as much as my parents, that security has been increased. They keep telling me over and over that it's because District Twelve was destroyed during the war. But I can't help but feel trapped in here. Every time I look over at the fence which cuts us from the rest of the world, the only thing I want to do is cross it, but I never was allowed to. Plus, guardians would never let me, a little thirteen year old girl. Guardians are those who replaced something I've never known, the peacekeepers. Since I was born, I've only seen them taking care of our people, making sure everyone has shelter and such things. But it feels too good to be true. For some reason, I keep doubting our society and how it works. But I guess that simply comes from the fact that both of my parents are so emotionally unstable. Even though the doubts grow stronger everyday, I keep it to myself and push them to back of my mind. Most of the time.
"MIMOSA MELLARK! Come out now!" She screams at my door and I simply burry my head under my pillow, attempting to block everything out even though I can still hear her outside. I also make out the loud footsteps of my father, coming down the hallway. He doesn't mean those as a threat, he's just so bad at being quiet, even when he knows everyone's sleeping and he has to go to the bathroom.
"Stop screaming, Katniss. You know it's useless." she doesn't answer him, simply storming off just like whenever I annoy her to the highest point. I smile, satisfied. However, my smiles fades when I hear him sitting against the wall next to the door that leads inside my room and I roll my eyes. Why can't they just leave me alone? I know my father. He's not as aggressive as my mother when it comes to me, but he's stubborn. He's determined to make me come out of there if he decided to simply sit there and wait. He knows how much it annoys me. I sit up, pushing my brown curls behind my ear and pulling down the shirt of my pajamas. I make my way to the door and, before I can open it, i hear my brother rushing past my father and greeting him with a joyful hello.
We're complete opposites, my brother and I. When he's a cheerful little guy, I'm the big bad mean girl. But that's probably because I'm a teenager now. Haymitch told me that. How teenagers are a pain in the— He knows. He worked with them for so long during the hunger games. But I never bring that thought up when I'm around him, knowing it will hurt him. Somehow, he's the only one I never want to hurt. Ever. That's cruel to say, I know. But somehow I'm so annoyed with my mother and my father right now, and even with my brother who's always so happy, that I can't help but not care if I hurt them. Still, I come out of my room and let my blue eyes, a perfect mirror of his own, fall on him.
"What?" I simply tell him, crossing my arms over my chest, clearly showing him that I'm in the same stubborn state of mind that he's in.
"You could be nicer." he says and I roll my eyes. Nicer? I'm barely being mean. I'm not the one threatening to take their door down. He probably takes my silence for his cue to go on, because he speaks again. "Your mother and I love you, Mimi—"
"Daaaaaad." I whine as a hurt animal would and he smiles lightly. He knows I hate it when he uses pet names with me and that's exactly why he does it.
"It's true! Just… Try to show a little bit of happiness, will you? For me?" He brushes a lock of my hair back and I can't help but nod. He understands me, just like I understand him. I can't say that about the relationship me and my mother share. It's always up and down. We have our good moments in the house. Like when we take care of our garden and our medicinal herbs. When we go to the meadow to collect some more specimen or to pick flowers. My mother is not one who likes pretty things and I'm not either. But we both think it still makes the house look nicer.
But then, there are those moments when I ask her to take me to the woods with her. Yes, my mother is still allowed to go. It seems as though she's the only one in this town who can get out, and it's truly annoying. Why can she, and not me? I know she's older. I know she has experience. But how do they expect me to build experience if they don't let me go in? Every time I ask her, she says it's too dangerous for a girl of my age. I then remind her that she was not much older than I was when she first went in on her own after her father died. Even before, she would go in with him. Why can't I? It seems so unfair. And she storms off. Probably to the woods. But I don't know. I'm not allowed to follow.
My dad leaves me there, probably to go to the kitchen and finish preparing before he has to go to the bakery. Great, another day left alone with my mother and my brother. If only I could escape somewhere. I go back inside my room, where I would usually spend most of my day until my father came back from work and it was time to eat. Instead, I decide to get dressed and go downstairs. Breakfast has been laid down on the table and my brother is sitting in his spot, sipping on some kind of beverage in his cup. I fall in my chair loudly on purpose, but my mother is nowhere to be seen. I begin to eat.
"Do you want to go to the meadow, later, Mimosa?" I look up at my brother with wide eyes. His smile is refreshing and it makes my face light up a little. We never spend much time together. Probably because I spend so much time being on my own and being mad at I don't know what. But the truth is that I care about him too, probably even more than I care about Haymitch.
"Sure, Willow." He grins at me and gets up. For a moment, I think he's simply going back to his room to get ready before he comes over and hugs me.
"Thank you." I suddenly feel warm inside and wrap one of my arms around him, brushing his blonde hair lightly with the other. He pulls away and runs off, just like he always does. That's when I see her, standing in the doorway.
"I'm going out." I roll my eyes.
"Like always." I tell her.
"Wash your dishes. And be nice to your brother."
"Will do." This a common conversation for us. I expect her to leave and turn back to my plate, starting to eat again. But I can still feel her presence. My mother is still standing a few feet away from me.
"Yes?" I ask, looking up once again.
"We need to fix whatever problem we have, Mimosa. It can't go on like this." This is the first time in years that I actually see my mother's face filled with sadness. She would always try to be strong for both of us. She would put on a smile whenever we were around her. But, when we were younger, the nightmares were much more frequent. I was only a little girl when her screams woke me like they did every other night. Usually, I would just stay in my bed, staring at the ceiling until they ended. But that night, I stood up and went to my parents' room. The door was slightly open and that's when I saw her, crying in my father's arms. I rushed in, of course, wondering what had hurt her. She assured me it was nothing, but I stayed there, snuggled in between them, rubbing my mother's arm. I think that's the only time I've truly seen her cry. Well, unless you count the time she was distracted by my father and she cut her finger will skinning a rabbit.
I can't help but feel like that little girl when I see the expression on my mother's face. I drop my utensils which make a clinking sound on the plate. This brings me back to reality.
"Y-yes…" That is all I am able to murmur. But it seems to please her. If we do have something in common, it's how simple we are and how pathetic we are when it comes to words. My brother and father don't have that problem. I watch her as she goes out and go back to eating, sighing.
Since I am already properly dressed for a day outside with my brother, I don't complain and whine as I usually would when he comes rushing down the stairs and takes my hand, pulling me outside. It's a beautiful day really. Well, just like any other summer day in District Twelve. It never rains, or barely. And when it does, it only lasts for a few hours. I guess this is how we are rewarded after the cold, long winter we get every year. I have the intelligence to grab two small bags as I am forced outside of my home and into the sunlight of the day. I squint my eyes at first as they adjust to the sudden burst of light. My brother is already far ahead of me, not caring if the sun burns his retinas. For the first time in a long time, a soft chuckle escapes my lips and I launch after him, after I have tied the two bags to my pants with the strings we use to keep them closed. I try to catch up with him, but his small legs seem much quicker than my taller ones, and, before I have time to consider why this might be, I stumble backwards after bumping into someone.
"Sorry." I mutter before even looking up at the person. In fact, I don't even want to. They'll probably end up telling me I should watch where I'm going. Isn't that what people usually tell you when you run right into them?
"S'okay, kid." As soon as I hear those words, my head snaps to look at whoever is standing in front of me. The boy must be a year or two, maximum, older than me. And yet, he calls me kid. I frown as I look him up and down. No, he's definitely not older than that. As I look back up at his face, I see him smirking and can't help but roll my eyes. What's his problem? "Liking what you see?" Overconfident, that's for sure, and it makes me sick.
"I know I don't like what I hear. If you're done being full of yourself, move." I snap, pushing past the boy before he can say anything.
"Actually," I hear him calling back. Ugh, everyone just really wants to get on my nerves today. "I'm looking for a place called the Meadow. Do you happen to know where it is?" Only one question pops into my head as he asks this: Who is he? But that's when I see the man coming out of a shop behind him and I raise an eyebrow. I don't know why exactly I have seen a picture of him around the house. What is he doing here? With his kid. I thought they lived far away. I frown once again.
"I told you not to wander off, Myles." All I can think is how much Myles sounds like a weird name to me.
"I was just looking around, Dad." The son complains. The father's eyes set on me and they widden until I think they're about to explode. He recognized me. From the corner of my eye, I see my brother coming back. He obviously noticed I was not following him anymore and decided it would be safer for him to come and get me.
"Who's this, Mimosa?" He asks in his little angelic voice and the man frowns. I know why.
"I thought you were named, Primrose, after your aunt."
"I asked them not to call me that anymore… Mimosa's my middle name." I answer calmly as I look up at him. My father's truly an excellent painter. He got everything detail in that picture perfectly.
"You two know each other?" I hear the boy named Myles ask.
"You said we were going to the Meadow, Mimi." I frown slightly but I don't answer. I know acting like a child would look absolutely foolish right now. For some reason, I don't want to look foolish in front of this man. Or his son, for that matter. They both resemble each other a lot. Same hair, same eyes, same stature, same—
"We don't know each other. I know her parents." He says, looking down at his son. "Tell them I said Hi." He says as he turns back to me and I nod. Easier said then done. I'm sure either one of their reaction won't be a good one. Maybe I'll just let them find out on their own. But I'm convinced Willow will end up telling her. That's not an option. I promise myself not to tell him who that was.
However, as soon as we've left the two strangers behind, he begins to ask questions about them. Who are they? How do I know them? How did I recognize them? Fortunately, once we enter the Meadow, he's distracted enough to stop asking all of those questions. We get back around noon and I notice my mother is already home. Her boots are laying across the carpet somewhere near the front door. Willow finds her and I can hear him telling her everything that happened. I was wrong. He did not need the name of the man to go and tell. I close my eyes tightly, attempting to escape this world. But it comes back as my mother wakes me from my reverie.
"Who was it out there today that you met, Mimosa?" She asks calmly. What can I possibly tell her? Then I remember our conversation of this morning about fixing our problems. I can only tell her the truth, even if it means revealing the fact that I have been sneaking around the house through my parents stuff when they're not around to see me doing it.
"Gale Hawthorne." That's all I manage to say.