My fingers punch the unlock code to our apartment as I bob my head up and down to my music. I recently had the mp3 clip installed behind my ear. It's not a real clip, but like a microscopic memory card that's connected to your brain. With just a specific twitch of my pinky finger, the song can be changed. Pretty cool. I got it for my 16th birthday.
My parents won't let me have anything other mod, like a cellmod, or really a cellphone at all. I guess they're just a little paranoid. Lavinia, it's not safe to have any other mod, if it's connected to the web, anyone will be able to find you, anytime, anywhere. My dad's voice echoes in my head. I snort as I push the door open into our living room, a little paranoid.
I'm 16 years old and I can't even have a cell phone.
"Mom, Dad, I'm home." I call and set my backpack onto the kitchen table. I turn off my music. The flat is eerily quiet, all I hear is the hum of the heater.
"Mom? Dad?" I call a little louder, but no answer.
I search the flat. No luck. After 5 minutes of contemplating I come to the conclusion that they're out. I plop down on the couch and flip the tv on. I try to focus on what's happening between the two characters on the screen but my mind is wandering.
My parents aren't ones to just leave without telling me anything. They leave me a note when they're going on a 10 minute walk, they have a list of emergency numbers on the fridge. I search the apartment again, but I'm a little more thorough.
I pause at the bathroom as I catch my reflection. My dark red hair is actually behaving today, but despite tanning with my friend Claire earlier today- my skin is still porcelain white. My painfully boring brown eyes mock me. I'm the spitting image of my mother, but of course I got my dad's brown eyes. I shut the lights off with a sigh and continue my search.
I'm about to give up but something stops me at their room, the door to their balcony is unlocked. They always keep it locked. My stomach drops. I cross over to the door and I open it gingerly, expecting something to jump out at me. Nothing happens but something red catches my eye. It's only a small splatter, but it's there. My breathing quickens. It shines against the blue of the wall, glaring at me.
It's blood.
Why would they be bleeding? Did someone take them? Why else would there be blood? Someone took them and they put up a fight?
"Well, maybe not." I try to reason with myself, "It's just an unlocked door and a really bad bloody nose." Suddenly, with purpose I stride over to the home phone and dial their number.
"I should have done this first." I grumble as the phone rings. And rings. And rings. With each ring the knot in my stomach grows tighter.
I hear my mom's bright message greet me, "Sorry I can't answer right now! I've probably just left my phone in some bathroom. I'll get back to you as soon as I can." Numbly, I hang up the phone.
"You can call me Detective Lavinia." I say dryly. If it were any other situation I probably would have laughed at that. But my parents are kidnapped. Kidnapped? Parentnapped?
Why am I joking at a time like this?
I need to calm down. I focus on my breathing. In, out. In, out.
Okay so I know three things, my parents are missing, someone took them, and they had been part of an organization that had been borderline traitor to the capitol. My parents are fiercely against our government, they were against the whole system. They hated the games. They hated the fact that the districts existed.
They sought change, but their pleas fell on plugged ears.
It didn't matter what they did, how many boycotts they had, or protests, or petitions. Nothing changed. The games still went on, the districts still were districts, and president Snow was still indifferent to all of the suffering.
They say indifferent when they really mean he's the one causing the suffering.
I walk to my bedroom and shut the door shakily, what do I do now? Should I file a missing person report? How do I do that? I slide down to the floor in shock and despair.
I'm only 16. I haven't even started driving yet.
I bet even if I did file a report it wouldn't do anything. What if the people who took them are the same people who I would file the report to? The thought made me shiver.
An idea comes to me and I stand up, I'll call Coty. Coty and I have been best friends since we were little, our parents were friends so we've shared almost everything. He'll know what to do.
"Hello?" I hear Coty's familiar voice after it rings a couple of times and a lump forms in my throat.
"Coty, it's me. Something's happened." I try to say steadily.
"Lavinia? What's going on?" He says, obviously worried.
"My parents are gone."
"Well, I'm sure they'll be home soon."
"No no no no. Someone took them. The balcony door was unlocked, and there was," I swallow, "Blood. There was blood." I reply, willing him to understand.
"Are you sure?" His voice comes back.
"Yes." I press the button that makes the phone hands-free and I grab my backpack, dumping everything out onto my bed. The sight of my school textbooks spilling onto my bed makes me want to laugh. All of that school for nothing.
"Should I come pick you up?" He asks.
"No, let's meet halfway like normal." I reply and begin stuffing clothes into my bag, I've decided that it's not safe here anymore.
"Lavinia, just.. Just be careful." He tells me and I blink back tears, "You do know who raised me, right?" I reply, we say goodbye and hang up.
I pack the sturdiest clothes I own and head to the kitchen. I've never been so glad to have such paranoid parents as I open the emergency cupboard. (Which is in a hidden compartment behind the real cupboard) I pack a first aid kit, a survival kit and the next thing I grab surprises me- It's a small weapon, a pocket knife.
I've never held a weapon before this, it seems so small. I weigh it in my hand and try to imagine using it. It just seems wrong. At the last second I tuck it into my back pocket.
"Just in case." I tell myself.
I zip up my pack and put both straps on. I decide to leave out the back door, just in case. I gear up in my protectgear and grab my bike. Before I step out the door I look around my little home. Or what used to be my home, it's not much of a home without them.
That old saying, "Home is where the heart is" has never been more true to me. A lump forms in my throat and I know I have to leave. I step out and shut the door behind me.
. . .
It's amazing how life goes on when yours is falling down around you, the neighborhood kids still play, the oldies still sit in the parks, and the adults are just getting home from work. I wish I could be as carefree as them. I shake my head and mount my bike, riding it out of my neighborhood.
As soon as I take off down the busy city street I immediately know something's wrong; A black van is following me. I don't know how long it's been there. I keep pushing on but there's a little alarm bell going off in the back of my head. My red hair obstructs my view when I try to look back, though.
I blow it out of my face, I should have put it up.
I turn a corner sharply and almost run into a trio of brightly colored Junkies, "Sorry!" I call out and ignore the obscenities being yelled at me.
It's now or never, I have to shake them. I fly through an alley way that cuts through to the state park. I hear the van slam on it's breaks and I smirk. Good luck fitting through there. I keep peddling and make it into the winding bike paths of the state park.
I hear some ruckus behind me and I look over my shoulder, three uniforms are chasing me on similar bikes. Helmets hiding their faces, bikes nearly hitting people, they fly through the groups, uncaring. It's a black peacekeeper uniform. I notice.
I've seen them before, but mostly in malls and clubs, to keep order. And well, peace.
But these black uniforms seem to want exactly the opposite. They shove through groups and almost run over some joggers. Are these the people who took my parents?
My mind is racing and I'm at a loss for what to do until I hear cheers from the street. I see it: a marathon with lots of runners. I take a deep breath. Okay, here we go.
I turn sharply and cut through the well-trimmed lawn of the state park, pulling into the opposite flow of the runners. Panicked, they jump out of the way, some faster than others. I hear a thump and look over my shoulder, one of the bikers accidentally hit a runner. The runner's friends are helping him up and yelling at the black uniform.
I grin in triumph. One down, two to go.
After the mob of runners thin the black uniforms are catching up to me; I grit my teeth in annoyance. What does a girl have to do to get a diversion around here? I'm getting exhausted.
Five blocks and my legs are screaming at me and I'm breathing heavily. The sun seems to be beating down harder than ever. I can't keep this up forever. I consider letting them catch me, I mean, what're they going to do? Arrest me? For what?
But I think of what could be happening to my parents and I shiver. No, I have to keep running. I look around, searching for something that will help me.
A large cargo craft with the Capitol emblem on it is being loaded up in the street to my right. I decide what I have to do. I turn at the last minute and I see the two bikes fly past me, alarmed and slamming on their brakes. Perfect, I fly down the small street and up a ramp, and right into the back of the cargo craft.
I hit the crates, hard, scraping myself up and I'm sure I'll feel the full force of it tomorrow. Thankfully the automatic doors are closing and I see the black uniforms looking for me, I scramble down behind a large crate. That was lucky.
The doors shut and I'm left in the cool darkness. I collapse to the cold metal floor, sweat dripping down my forehead.
"I am never moving ever again." I swear to myself as I throw my helmet off.
I hear the engine rumble on and the cabin jerks a little as it starts through the streets. I wonder vaguely where we're going but my focus is on how hot I am. Heat radiates off of me and my head thuds from a migraine. I've never been able to handle heat very well. I try to formulate a plan in my head as it glides along. My thoughts are muddled, everything is jumbled and I'm confused with what is real and what isn't. The heat is getting to me. But I do know one thing.
I have to get out of the Capitol, and fast.