The sweat poured down my face, and I wasn't even running anymore. The horror that I had just witnessed was a distance away. But, still, I'm not sure that my brain registered this yet. I slumped under the block of stone I was resting on, but made sure to stay hidden. Once I was safely under, I finally allowed myself to look at my injuries.
The cut wasn't as bad as I thought. But, the sting of the oil meeting fire seared through my arm. I decided I needed to tend to these first. Mot because it was more important but because the pain was so strong I thought I'd black out from it. Rumbling through my pack, I found the ointment. It appeared to be glowing at me, like a shimmering piece of metal to trade. I almost didn't want to touch it. But then, a pang of pain shot through my arm, and I immediately pulled it out. As I began to slather the ointment on my skin, I instantly felt the sting of the burns lessen. Then, the cannon fired.
"Woo!" I heard a high pitched victory yell come from above me.
"That was too easy," another voice said. This one was deeper.
"Where do you think the girl went," asked the high pitched one.
"Who cares," the deeper voiced one said. "She's as good as dead. That oil should be coursing through her blood now."
"So, we'll just wait until she drops dead or stumbles from her hiding place weakened."
"Sounds like a plan to me."
The weight of their words filled my ears, and I slowly looked to the wound on my arm. At first glance, it looked like any surfaced bur. It singed the flesh, but didn't go all the way through. Poisoned, I thought. And, in that quick understanding I felt my heart pound harder, ringing in my ears. I couldn't tell if it was the actual poisoned oil they were talking about or the anxiety of this revelation. I crouched lower to sink farter under the rock. My breaths came short and fast, and I could feel the dizzy sensation of hyperventilating coming on. I swayed back and forth. At first, a slow lull, then my body began to jerk back and forth. I knew I was going to die. I closed my eyes, and felt my body jerk harder.
"Wake up, Envie," I heard a quieter voice. Was I already dead? Who was this ushering me into the afterlife? "Envie."
I heard the voice more clearly now, and the jerking began to feel more like shaking "Glossimer." I said silently and began to open my eyes.
"Envie, you were having a nightmare." My brother's voice fully alerted me to this truth. "You were jerking back and forth like you were having a seizure."
"I'm sorry." I said and sat up in my bed.
"At least you weren't screaming this time." He said and pulled me into him. "What was it this time? A mutt attack or the Games?"
"Games," I said, and let my head rest on his shoulder.
"Well, I would say no more TV before bed. But, it won't help will it.?" He said.
I shook my head. The games were always on it seemed like. Between propos enlisting young men to the armed forced of Panem and the edited specials of the games, you couldn't escape the turmoil in the land.
"Can you go back to sleep?" Glossimer asked me. My big brother was so protective. We grew up in a world were the Games were a historical event. Although no Games actually occur each year, the President feels that the districts need a reminder of what could happen if there is ever another rebellion.
"I think so," I said, and let him tuck me back in bed.
The morning came in minutes it felt like after the night I had. I sat up and looked around the room. Glossimer was already out of bed. I sat for a minute longer, yawning an adjusting my eyes to the sunlight breaking through the window.
"Dad says come now," Glossimer appeared in the door with an exasperated look on his face. Before I could ask how he knew I was awake, he was at my bed and pulling me to the living room. I didn't protest; I just let him lead me.
"Have a seat, " Dad's voice came as we both made it to the couch. He didn't look over at us, but focused his attention on the television. "The Capitol is going to make an announcement." He said sternly, in a muted tone.
Neither of us said anything, but the look on my father's face scared me. he never talked about those times. When the Games were still an annual event, or what he did during them. He sometimes talked to an elderly man he knew from that time. But, we were never allowed to be in the house during those conversations. My father's place in District 2 was highly revered, and I always wondered how he got to be such a high ranking official.
"He probably won one of the Games," Glossimer would whisper at night when we were supposed to be sleeping.
"He'd have told us," I'd whisper back, but secretly I'd begin to imagine my father killing others and becoming the victor. It was a thought that scared me to death.
"How could he, Envie?" He'd ask. "The Capitol controls all the information that comes to us about the Games. Whatever isn't broadcast on tv isn't supposed to be talked about." Then, he'd get closer to my face and lower his voice. "Or else dad would become an Avox."
I'd pretend to scream and flail and we'd both laugh. To us, the Games were a horrible reminder of a time when Panem was under such control that no one could breath. The stories of Avoxes and victors, of deadly arenas and scripted interviews were like ghost stories to us. But, still, we understood how real they were and we made sure to never joke like that around our father.
Then resounding theme of the Capitol's broadcast brought me back to the present. Julius Weavering, the renowned personality for the Capitol come on. He looked completely crazed, but that was his shtick. His sky blue hair, lips and outfit shined brightly in the lighting of the Capitol's broadcast studio and radiated beautifully off his cream colored skin. I was always so fascinated by the Capitol people. Their fashion sense, their outlandish outfits, and their weird accents. I wanted so bad to be a stylist in the Capitol. But, I never mentioned this to my dad. For some reason, anytime anyone mentioned the Capitol his face cringed and he'd scowl; he'd mumble something under his breath about how horrible they were and how the fight seemed to be for nothing. I didn't know what he meant by any of his mumblings, just that he seemed to really hate the Capitol.
By the time I realized I wasn't listening to the broadcast, Julius was sighing deeply and saying: "This unfortunate event has caused the remaining Capitol officials to enlist a now historical event, The Hunger Games!" His voice was filled with glee and his bright smile cascaded my television screen as if he'd just released some god news for the citizens of Panem.
I stood blinking at the screen. I was so unsure as to what I'd just heard, as to what to say. I looked over at my brother who had a confused look on his face. I nudged him, and he looked back at me. I expected to see fear or anxiety in his eyes, but all I saw was a smile.
"May the odds be forever in—" He began.
"Be quiet boy," My father's voice bellowed at us like a roaring lion. I had never seen the look on my father's face before: the look of anguish. He was still sitting, still staring at the television. My brother and I cowered under his voice and returned to the television.
"Since this would have been the 100th Hunger Games, we are excited to say that this year will be the Quarter Quell." Julius' voice was still cheery and bubbly.
My father shut the television off before the broadcast could finish. "This isn't happening." He sat with hi head hung down, and tremors racked his body.
The room feel silent. I looked from my brother to my father, and felt a sense of gloom shadow both of them.
"It's just a joke, right, Dad\?" I said, looking at my brother for reassurance.
"I don't think so, Envie." My brother's voice wasn't filled with smiling like it was just a minute ago. "Why is this happening?" He asked our father.
"Because they killed her." Father said grimly. We both looked at each other then our father for clarification.
Then, a light bulb flicked on in my head, and I blurted out a little to chipper, "The mockingjay, Dad. Did they kill her?"
I realized it was too cheery when my father turned around quickly and came to sit by me. "Shush, Envie." The mention of her symbol, let alone her name, was enough to get you killed if the wrong person heard you. But, he answered, "Yes, they killed her."
Our phone was ringing off the hook just as my father answered. He rushed to the phone.
"What does this mean, Glossimer?" I asked, scared and confused.
"It means they can start the Games over again." He shook his head. Eventhough this was grim news, we were too young to fully comprehend what this could mean for us.
"But, I don't get it," I said, still sounding confused.
"Shush," Glossimer said as he placed his index finger over his lips. He grabbed my hand and we walked quietly into the kitchen.
Father's back was turned to us, and we tried to make out what he was saying. I was standing behind the door, so I relied on Glossimer to relay what father was saying.
"What's he saying?" I asked.
"I can't hear," Glossimer said turning to look at me. he pulled me from behind the door.
"You two, in the living room," came father's voice. He'd finished his conversation in the instant it took me to get behind Glossier in the kitchen.
Dad walked to the door and let a sullen looking man into the door. The man was about dad's height, but was sickly looking against my father's full frame. For a minute they just stared at each other, not menacing, but sadly.
"Come in," father said to the man, and led him to the living room. Father gave us the look he usually does when he wants us to leave. We both rise to leave, but the man stops us.
"No, if the Games are actually going to occur, they need to stay and hear." The man caught our father's glare. I turned to look to see if we should stay or go. Father nodded for us to stay. "Besides, they need to know about her. Not the half baked lies the school teaches them. Don't you agree, Gale?"