Gale
Darkness. The darkness is constant in the Seam. I awake to this constant darkness this morning only to be reminded of my family's hollowed eyes, sunken stomachs and emaciated figures. The darkness stems from my responsibility to cope with this struggle. The daily effort to provide food- game, grain, crumbs…anything, if I am lucky. The darkness stems from the Capitol, and their twisted ways of organizing "life" in to this system of Districts, all oppressed by hunger, fear, and darkness. The darkness stems from the fact that I open the door to light from the sun, and yet I am not able to feel an ounce of warmth, comfort or hope. Escaping the darkness is an impossible challenge.
Challenge. As close as one can come in articulating what I face every day by trying to live, what we all face in District 12. The challenge of obeying the rules, the challenge of trying to survive. Challenges are meant to be faced. What happens when facing the challenge becomes impossible?
Death. Not rare in the Seam. Not uncommon at all. Starvation is a factor observed by society and hardly ever second glanced. Or even glanced at once. Death can't be escaped here, whether it comes from the lack of food, sickness, or tragedy.
Tragedy. My father's accident. The day the man who provided what we needed as if nothing was more important was gone in an instant. A blink of an eye. Gone. "Do you understand?" He had said "If something ever happens to me, it's all you Gale."
Gale. It is all me. If I don't come home with food, we may never eat. May never see tomorrow. Sometimes, not seeing the next day is what appeals to me the most. These are the times I flee to the forest. Beyond the limits of the decrepit District to which I am confined, the only place where I am Gale, where I can find a glimmer of the warmth, comfort and hope stolen by the darkness within the gates.
Her name is Katniss. The only thing in my world to ever illuminate the darkness. I had known of her since I was a child, I knew her father was involved in the same mine accident as mine. The one morning I stumbled upon her in the forest, however, something changed. I could sense her beauty, as if it were being whispered to me. Her voice flowed so silkily, even as she stuttered apologies for crashing in to me.
She didn't know, she still doesn't know. I can't see her. I know her, but I've never seen her face. I was born blind. My eyes are wide open, they can focus and follow sounds, blink and whatnot, I just can't see anything. My hunting is all sensory; I can shoot accurately from the sound of a branch breaking, or wing flapping. That's why she doesn't know.
The Hunger Games. The most hideous event to occur. A true embarrassment to humans, and their perverted inventions. An accurate reflection, however, of the heinous ways of the Capitol. I walk to the town by feel, I could do it in my sleep. I sense the large crowd gathered for the Reaping, when the tributes from our district will be selected to enter the games. I am shaking, knowing we desperately need the tesserae, and how many times my name is entered because of it. I worry for Katniss, the only light in my darkness that I will die without.
As I walk to my place within my age group, I pick up the smell of fresh bread. A smell so distinct it arouses the grumblings of my stomach. I associate this smell with Peeta Mellarck, the Baker's son, my secret competitor for Katniss. I became aware of this competition one night when I was hiding in a tree, following Katniss as she searched for food. There was nothing I could do for her, I had been unable to find anything for myself that day, let alone my family, and it pained me to see her suffer. I could hear her whimper, and fall to the ground. I also heard the yelling within the Mellarck house, the high-pitched angry remarks of Peeta's mother, directed at Peeta for burning two loaves of bread. I heard the pounding of his feet on the sidewalk, and then the falling of the loaves in Katniss' direction. This is when the jealousy began. He was able to give something to Katniss that I couldn't at one of her weakest moments. This jealousy grew into a hate, a hate for someone whom I have never seen, and will never see over a girl that I spend every moment longing to see.
My thoughts of Peeta have me completely distracted. I am abruptly pulled out of my thoughts by her voice. The voice of Katniss, whom I would know anywhere. "I volunteer!" She had shouted. I thought quickly, piecing together what could not be happening. Why was she volunteering? What happened? I mentally kicked myself for becoming so involved in my thoughts. The silence of the people enveloped me, giving me no clue as to why Katniss would be volunteering. The next voice I could pick up was Effie Trinket. The high-pitched squealing of a woman who was the epitome of the insane forms of human inhabiting the Capitol, she was thanking Katniss. This was impossible. I next heard Prim, Katniss' sister, who had the same qualities in her voice as Katniss did, saying "No, Katniss, no, you can't." I realized. The revelation came that Katniss had taken Prim's place in the Games. Emotion overwhelmed me, and before I knew what I was doing I was rushing towards the stage to help her. The people parted, allowing me to pass. I knew she wouldn't listen to my objections. I knew she was decided. I took Prim from her, and thoughts raced as I tried to devise a plan. She would never be talked out of this. Her love for her sister ran almost as deep as my love for her, and I knew there was nothing I could do. Another name then yanked me out of my own thoughts again. "Peeta Mellarck!" Rage filled me. I turned around and began running. I ran along my familiar path until I reached the fence, hopped it effortlessly and continued running. I ran until I was farther in the forest than I had ever been before. Exhausted, I collapsed to the earthy floor, and allowed the salty tears to come. Blood came from the scrapes of tree branches I hadn't even noticed brushing against as I ran. I hadn't cried since the accident. My light, Katniss, was being sent away, possibly to her death, with a boy who was strong and capable. I would have taken Peeta's place in a heartbeat, jumped to accompany her, to protect her, to soothe and comfort her, if it would do her any good. With twenty odd people out trying to kill, to win, my presence as a competitor would have been useless. I would get her into more trouble; she would realize that I couldn't see. No, being a competitor wouldn't work. I laid on the forest floor for hours, contemplating my options, in between spasms of tears and shaking.
I realized Katniss and Peeta had been taken away, per the timeline of the Games, and would be seeing visitors before they were taken to the Capitol. As fast as I had ran to the forest, I was faster returning. The thought of never hearing her voice and being with her again chased me as I ran. I had to give her advice, say something. I wanted to tell her everything, that I loved her, that I want to go with her, that I have never seen her. But I couldn't. There wasn't time.
I left the building, and returned home. Sleep wouldn't come no matter how I tried. After thinking all night, only one thing I knew for sure. There would be an extra member from District 12 attending, and he would do whatever it took to save Katniss. That person was Gale, and he had no idea how he was going to do it. But he would bring her back, his single flame illuminating his darkness.
TO BE CONTINUED