I sent the paper crane in to the wind, I watched as the light paper figure swirls and is carried off by the clamming autumn breeze. I am tired with dark rings under my eyes, around this time each year my mother gets lost in a whirlwind of nightmares that don't keep her past demons at bay. When I was a child as the September sun rose and summer faded, I would startled by the blood curling screams of my mother screaming for help, for people I had only read about in our history books or family albums. Now that I am fifteen, I am use to this. I lay in bed during the changing of the seasons, and just like clockwork, every night at midnight the show begins. My brother only eleven cracks the door open to my room and peeks in, I smile and remove my hands from behind my head, "come on you" beckoning him to come over. His small feet flutter across the floor you can barely tell he has moved. I pulled back the covers and hold on to him tight, until my father has calmed my mother down.
I guess none of us will ever know what they went through. We learn about the reaping and the Hunger Games in our classes, but once you live with a victor or two in my case, you can only understand a small portion of what took place within the holds of the old capital and their elaborate arenas. It's been almost thirty years since the Hunger Games and fall of the old Capital all districts are at peace. The screams have subsided, and the sound of crickets, frogs and owls hooting in the night drift in to my room through the cracked window. Closing my eyes I think in an instant if the Capital wanted a show the games could once again take place, I push the thought out of my head, that will never happen; and even if it did and I was a tribute the odds well, as the line goes, "are forever in my favor." I let a mischievous smile creep across my face, and repeat to aloud,
I am Rue Mellark,
I live in district 12,
I am fifteen years old,
My parents are the star crossed Victors,
And I am all alone.
I sink in to a light sleep with dreams of the stories of the star-crossed lovers dancing in my head. Although in the midst of chaos, the struggle to keep on another alive was impeccable, images of blood, fear, and death seep through the welcoming forest in my dream like acid fog, suffocating me from the inside. I am there in the arena, without weapons, in agonizing pain, I scream so loud my chest starts to hurt and for the first time in my life, I shoot out of a deep sleep now understanding only a small fraction of what my mother relives every night during the reaping season.
The moon was still high in the sky, signaling it was only around four in the morning, I can't sleep, with a dream like that I was shaken to the bone with cold sweat. I crawl out of bed and slip out the back door. I run towards the wooded area by my house, reach in to the old hollowed tree, and grabbed my jacket; though the summer had just begun to disappear, the air was chilled. I find the stream my mother and I have spent countless afternoons relaxing by and lay out on my back staring in to the star filled sky. The fear of the reaping begins to fade as the sounds of the wild fill my mind, yet the lingering fear still holds hold that just maybe this year with the change in Capital ranks a Hunger Game is just what they need to restore order.
The rays of sun danced across my face. I open my eyes, heavy from exhaustion, "how long had I been out here?" I wondered. The heat trapped the by the trees was making my skin sticky. I climbed the trail back to the house, "Does your mother know where you've been? The wiry, ruff voice startles me. I look over to see a graying shaggy haired man, from the looks of it he had not showered in more than a week leaning against the goat pin. "What's it to her?" I spat at him, "Girls gotta sleep at some point," I can always tell Haymitch the truth without hurting anyone is feeling. Without saying the obvious, he understood what I meant; since he is also a victor I'm sure he is haunted with the same nightmares that consume my mother.
Inside the house my father and brother were huddled around the television, my mother was in the forest hunting. The newly elected president Pure was to make an important announcement at 10. I glanced at the clock 9:59am, I grabbed a freshly baked cheese roll and settle in to the couch next to my brother. President Pure was anything but, at least that's what my mother says. The petite mousy woman with silky blonde hair stands and clears her throat. Her petite voice squeaks the unimaginable. Those red eyes look in to the camera and an angelic grin sits plastered on her face. Im sure but unsure what has just happened, my father grabs my brother and I by the hand and drags us in to the shaded forest. The words replay in my head, "Time for unity" I begin to question myself, "need of games to show order" "Reaping?" these were all phrases I knew but could not register.
We were ten yards in to the forest before we found my mother, the ground opened up and jolted a fence thirty feet in to the air, humming and buzzing with electricity, we are trapped. My father's face was panic stricken and white; my mother shook her head, "Peeta" I heard her say in a hushed voice, "Its happened." She finishes after an exasperated sigh. My father says nothing he hakes my mother's hand and we go home. Haymitch is sober for the first time in years, his gray eyes look more hallow than ever, "We must run" my mother screams, she's hysterical, dripping with sweat and tears. "We cant1" Haymitch says as he hold my mother, as a father would a daughter. It takes two doses of thick syrupy sleep serum to put my mother at ease. My brother is curled up next to her, maybe tonight their presence can fight the demons away. My father and Haymitch sit in the living room not saying a work. "What if it's her" my father finally breaks the silence. Haymitch shakes his head, probably trying to find words of ease. "Then I go, I fight, and I win-" "and you don't piss the Capital off" Haymitch says with a small empty grin on his face.
I cant let my parents worry themselves over something so….Unlikely. I hold Haymitch's stare for just a moment, my blue eyes flicker to my father who won't meet my gaze, I try not to take it personally, the games nearly ruined them and the thought of me entering them scared them to the core. This is why my mother didn't want kids, because in the end…We all die. That night was full of horrifying images-dead children lay everywhere, blood seeping through their clothes, and me, a hunter in the dead of night perched on a tree limb bow in hand.