This is the edited version of my IGHG story. Its a seventeen year old girl from District 9. It is based on the first annual hunger games. Suggests, reviews. This is my first fanfic, and it holds a unique view of the so called "Dark Days," and after. Please enjoy.
Chapter 1: The Reaping
When I wake up I expect to feel a radiating heat on my right side with the scent of gunpowder mixed with his sweet odor of earth and sun. But as I inhale there is no such scent and my right side is cold. In these few moments when I drift between conscious and unconscious I fool myself into believing that maybe this time when I open my eyes he'll be here, sleeping right beside me.
But as I become aware, I hear heavy and unique rhythmic breathing of my mother in the room. She slept in. There is no work today because its the first time in years that we'll have a holiday. It's "Reaping Day."
Groaning inwardly, I prop myself up to see my twin, Marnie, in the bed beside mine, sleeping on the edge with my older sister, Rara, snuggling into her backside. What can I say? Rara loves to cuddle but unfortunately, Marnie does not. Asleep, they both seem less worn down, and more like their former selves before...well everything.
Sitting up now, I put on my trousers, a clean shirt, a flannel, and lean over to tie my boots. Standard work wear in 9. Well pretty much, everyday wear in 9.
Standing to leave, I catch a glimpse of my mother, sleeping on my parent's bed, alone. No surprise. My father usually avoids home as much as possible now. Too many memories for him. Too painful. As I step out onto the front porch I catch a waft of tobacco and turn to see him. My father.
"Happy Hunger Games."
Comes out of his raspy voice.
"Yep."
Silence. But to be fair, what else is there to say? When the peace keepers showed up in our district we both learned quickly to hold our tongues or lose them.
For a while, we just stand there. But this kind of communication is normal between us. I hear my father was quite handsome in his youth. I also heard he was quite the troublemaker too. Hard to believe now that he looks as worn and leathery as the boots on his feet.
"If your brother was here-"
"Well he isn't, dad."
Dead silence. I study his expression as he ponders for a comeback, to launch a final blow at me. But no. All that comes out is-
"Fuck'em. Fuck'em all."
Our part of district 9 is usually full of men, women, and children walking to their morning shifts at this hour. Hard working people with rednecks and beaten backs walk down to the fields with their rusted tools. But today the fields are empty. The reaping isn't until two. So why not sleep if you can, right?
It's only been a year since the civil war between the districts have ended. We haven't rebuilt the school yet so the children are put in charge with the restoration of what is left of the town. Some are sent to build the electric fence around our district. We usually distribute the jobs evenly but we all specialize in at least one certain area.
As for me, I'm usually sent for the reaping and loading of our grain harvest. To be honest, when the peacekeepers aren't here, the fields are the place that I love. I can spend hours here just watching the grain ripple in the golden waves by the breeze. Despite the peace here, no one usually likes to come here. There's just too many bad experiences here, buried in the soil. Under the soil lies a mass grave of our people during the darks days, and now we water the harvest with water and sometimes if one person is too slow, the peacekeepers water the soil with lashes of our blood. We all have been lashed a few times. Nobody is perfect. But despite all of that, I can't help but love it here.
I don't remember much about the darks days, or more likely I just don't want to remember. All I want to remember was that back then I had to run, had to hide, had to stay alive, and one particular day. When the skies turned to ask and the ground shook for hours, leaving our district in flames, and finally a beautiful blood red sky with a glistening sunset. I like to believe that it was the world's way of telling us the war was over. That life was over. But no. Life was just beginning and the beauty of that sunset was just a chemical reaction from the Capitol's air raid bombs as a sign that we must surrender. That we must submit to the Capitol's will. And so we did, and now I'm not sure if we are better off dead or alive.
"You could do it, you know?"
I don't turn to that voice.
"End it all. Forget work, our family, the war, the reaping. Everything."
I can almost sense him sitting next to me. But I don't look. I want nothing to ruin this moment with him. Not even my own eyes. A light breeze hits my face and I can almost smell his scent mixed in with the harvest.
"Just let it all go."
I want to turn around. I want to hold him. I want to tell him that I miss waking up beside him in the bed we shared growing up. But no. This is my reward. This is what I deserve.
My responsibility. My fault. I'm to blame.
"Come with me. We can go far away from here, right now.
I miss you so much that it hurts. I can barely breathe. Is it possible to love someone that causes so much pain? I hate this. I hate how you made me feel. I hate how you make me feel now. I hate you.
"Remember, Nate? It's a sin to kill a mockingbird."
That's when I feel it. A warmth fluttering on my hands. I snap my head towards it. It's him! It's not a dream!
"JOHN!"
I see a 7 year old girl in the fields chasing fireflies thru the summer nights. Us playing soldiers outside my house while the grown ups whispers being heard if we strained our ears to closed doors. Her hazel eyes with light brown eyelashes showing signs of laughter.
I see a 14 year old girl, trembling beneath the rubble. The quakes of the soil and the screams of people never ending. We don't play anymore. She tries to fill her sunken cheeks with stolen rations in the fields where the grown ups sleep in strange piles with an odd stench about them. Her hazel eyes watching me behind a peacekeeper. The foreign smell of plastic that fills my nose and-!
"Hey...HEY! LOOK AT ME! NATE LOOK AT ME! YOU'RE ALRIGHT! YOu're….safe."
I feel a warmth cupping around my cheeks. A calm pair of hazel eyes staring back at me. A 16 year old with pale skin and long brown lashes. The sun beating down on us in the fields where we grew up. Where we both now slave our days to no end. I hear my uneven breath and feel a sharp pain in my chest subsiding.
"Atta?"
"Sorry Nate, it looked like you we're having a bad dream."
She sits next to me on the soil and pats her hand on her lap. I ignore her.
"I thought you stopped having those."
"I thought so too." But apparently not.
She pats her lap again. This time I just look at her. Sighing she reaches for my shoulder and pulls me down into her lap. I protest. Start raising my mid half back up but she tucks her hands into my chest and holds me up against her.
It's hard for me to hold myself in this position. I can feel my muscles shaking as I strain my back and legs to lift myself up but I can't break her grip and my body just begins to sink into her, like a rock would in water. I listen to the steady pace of her beating heart and subconsciously, try to match mine to her own. I feel her grip soften as she guides my head to rest on her thigh. I shudder a little when I feel her cool fingers stroke the little pricks of hair behind my ear. It's almost an involuntary reaction for me to relax to this touch and she knows it.
I feel her weight shift and a pair of lips on my forehead. And then her nudging her forehead gently on mine. Her brown hair serving as a curtain around our faces as I stare at her hazel eyes.
"Nate, I know that you know, somewhere in the back of your head what happened that day. I think it's time we talked about this. We need to talk about this."
I pause for a minute, taking in the color of her eyes. Hazel. Like mine. A trademark of our district. I take a deep breath as I roll off of her on to my side, not facing her. This is pathetic. We both went thru the war together, so why can't I handle it better? Why can't I remember? It use to be me holding her like this, refusing to let go. I was the one who comforted her. I was the one. I was separated from my family when the bombs first started to drop. So was Atta. And I found her one day when I was sifting thru the rubble, looking for something to eat or sell, but instead I found her. And we looked after one another and she slowly became my responsibility.
"Are you even listening to me? It wasn't your fault."
My responsibility. My fault. I'm to blame.
"We need to talk about this so you can move on. This is our life now. You need-"
That's when I turn to her and I ask,
"Atta, when did you start talking like a grown up?"
She just stares down at me for a little while then gives me a weak smile giving up on the lecture she had on me completely.
"Well I guess you've inspired it in me. One of us had to."
"If I recall correctly, I was the one who hold you whenever the bakers use to hit you when they caught you stealing from their cart."
I watch as her eyes light up as she grins sheepishly at me.
"Which reminds me," she says as she reaches into her coat pocket. She splits it in half and hands me a bit of a Danish pastry. "Happy Hunger Games, and welcome the first of many games to come." she exclaims.
"You didn't?"
"I did. I stole off the baker man's cart when he wasn't looking. I kinda think he let me, because of today…"
The reaping...I almost forgot about it. I'm not sure about the other districts but food is hard to come by here, treats even harder. Only government officials can really afford it. Even though we harvest Panem's grain doesn't mean we usually see a lick of it back. We are given rations for each household but if you starve that's your business. Many of us have to go to the fields at night to steal a little grain in its storage unit for food the next morning. Atta and I have played our hands in this game many times. My brother use to do it, he showed Rara how to do it. She got caught on her first night and whipped the next morning. She swore she'd never do it again. So John taught me. Now both Atta and I, both do it to keep our families from starving. The penalty for being caught is sever, but what choice do we have other than to play this game.
After we finish our treat, we just sit there, happy at the present moment for having each other's company.
"Are you going home to change?"
"No." I tell her. "Why? Are you?"
"No. It's just I overheard a bunch of people will be. We're going to be on television you know? I even heard a bunch of us are going to be celebrating tonight. Everyone is bringing a little bit of what they have to share and there's going to be a bonfire. We should go together."
I just glare at her. That sounds sick. Celebrating when one of our own is sent to die.
"Let the odds forever be in our favor." I say with disgust as I sit up. They've advertised it on the mandatory propaganda the Capitol has been choking down our throat since the war ended and the Treaty of Treason was proposed. Has a nice ring to it.
Atta catches my sarcasm.
"It's not like that! We wouldn't be celebrating who we lost but who we DIDN'T."
"Well what if it is one of us, Atta?! What if I- what if you get reaped today? Then what? Huh? Tell me that?"
Silence. We stay like that for a while. The happiness of the present moment with each other is lost in the unknown despair of the future. Minutes slip away until I feel it. Her lips pressing against mine. I don't stop her. I feel her guiding me back to the ground as she crawls on top of us.
The grain towering over us as she peppered kisses on my face and my heart starts racing. At this point a million questions should be popping in my head but I can't think of any. I'm not use to feeling like this and I have never been good at reciprocating. I can't even move.
I just look at her, wondering, when did this happen? When did she start to feel this way. Her forehead rest on mine as she stares into my eyes.
"Then I guess no hard feelings when one of us doesn't volunteer for the other." She breathes into my skin before she stops to look at me.
Her eyes look blank. I can't read her stare. I feel blank. I feel torn. But most of all I feel tears crawling down my cheeks' as turn myself away from her but she makes it worst. She leans towards my line of vision. I don't deserve that. I don't deserve anything. She lies beside me and brushes her fingers thru my hair until the tears subside.
"I'm sorry, was that too much?"
"No…it's just…What time is the Reaping?" I ask as I turn to look away but she doesn't stop looking at me.
"Soon."
I raise myself up from off the ground.
"Then I guess we better get going."
If only I had known what I know now I would have stayed there with her longer, until someone would have had to make us go down to the square.
When we got there, our families were already waiting for us in our own lines to enlist. Apparently this is supposed to be done in alphabetical order of last names. Marnie has saved a place in line behind her. As we get closer to the front of the lines we see that the adults and some of the older kids getting separated from the younglings I feel Rara arm link around mine. I normally wouldn't allow her to do this. I don't like people hanging on me, but maybe this time...I'll let it slide. As we step to the front of the line
"Excuse me…" my mother starts hesitantly…,"We're here to enlist."
We are separated. My mother and Rara are too old to be reaped. Mama is obviously too old and as for Rara... at least she's safe. So now it's just me and Marnie as we are led to stand with the 17 year old girls.
"You ready for this?" she asks me.
"No."
After that, Marnie and I held hands all the way to the square.
Standing in the square I can't help but feel a sense of doom hanging over it. It's a feeling I use to get when I would see riots. It was a sickening feeling of knowing. Knowing that starving leads to rioting. And rioting leads to that one riot in specific, then gunfire, then a war. I can still hear the sound of the guns echoing off of the buildings. And with all these camera's around, doesn't make it any better. It kinda pisses me off. This is not a television show. This is not entertainment. This is life now. Our lives. MY LIFE.
I spot Emi not too far from me and Marnie are. She doesn't look too happy either. Maybe if I throw a rock at one of the camera's I can get rid of this sickening feeling. I feel Marnie's grip on my hand tighten as a strange looking women dressed in all red hearts walks onto the district's makeshift stage.
"Welcome. Welcome, she says graciously in a strange accent I've never heard before, "To Panem's first annual Hunger Games. As in accordance to the newly written Treaty of Treason…"
We all know the Treaty of Treason. We all know the rules. They told us enough about them when the idea of this event started. It was created as a reminder of our sins...to the Capitol, that's all the Dark days was. The games were created as of this year to satisfy the thirst of the Capitol. We would send one male and one female 'tribute'; either by drawing from a bowl of names, or by volunteer; to sacrifice themselves in a tournament of survival and strength until only a lone victor remains…this is insane.
At this point, I tune her out. I've had enough. I don't care if a peace keeper throws a whip at me. I want those god damn cameras off! I start looking for something, anything to throw at them. Maybe if I find something, maybe I'll debate throwing it at the lady in red on that stage instead who's now picking the female tributes name from the barrel. But for now-
"Nate Reeds."
My heart stops. I feel my stomach drop just as fast as Marnie's grip on my hand turns from sweaty and tight, to a death grip.
"Where are you dear?"
I feel a person behind me shove me as another grabs Marnie. She screams.
I don't turn around. I know Marnie is clawing at whoever is holding her. At this point she's being so loud I think everybody knows where I am.
"Well don't be shy. Come on up."
I think about running. But that's all I do. There's nowhere to run but up that stage. I won't lie. Being stared at is not exactly comforting as you make a long walk to your death sentence and staring back at them doesn't make it easier. The women in read takes my hand and places a cone in my hand that seems to amplify my voice. This can't be real.
I feel exposed, like I'm a wild animal put on display for all of Panem to see. I'm speechless.
"Congratulations my dear "
"…"
I can't believe this is happening.
I just look at her. I look at Marnie. It was the one of the harvesters that had grabbed her. That took her from me and pushed me into the open. I see it, in his eyes, even from here. His kindness as he wipes her tears away and whispers things in her ear as he hold her. His hand is covering the visible part of her face from me...and the cameras. Good. He's a good person. She'll need a good person to keep her on her feet now.
"Now do we have any volunteers for this…," the woman in red hesitates then turns to me, " Nate was it?"
I scan the crowds and finally spot her. Atta. She looks different. Paler than usual. I continue staring to signal her of our deal. Then she does something I don't expect. She smiles as if to say 'No hard feelings.' I nod.
"Wonderful and now for the boys…"
Somewhere in the background noise outside of my brain I hear a name called. But at this point I'm too lost inside of myself to comprehend the figure rising from the crowd and the pressure and warmth on my shoulders.
I feel like I've been shot. It's killing me. My slow death has begun. And that's when I see him. In the crowd. I see John, or at least the ghost of him as his voice rings in my head.
"Remember Nate, it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.
The door crashes open.
"You have three minutes."
My family rushes to me. My mother get to me first, I feel her face on top of my head as she embraces me as tears land on my cheeks. The skin around her neck is warm and I can't help but hide in the crook of it.
"Mom….."
She doesn't let go. I just feel pressure of her lips on my forehead and a moist stickiness of her tears clinging to my forehead.
"You're going to be fine. It one less mouth to feed so one less mouth to work for. Think of it like that. But you can't forget them."
I gesture to Marnie and Rara. Only then do I notice that dad is not there. Figures…
"Rara, John taught you to take grain from the District storage unit, before I could even walk. I know you don't want to get caught again but I need you to do this."
"No…." says Rara just covers her ears and begins to shake her head.
Don't let this-"
"Nno, no, nonono-" Rara's eyes begin to shut as she continues to shake her head more violently.
"- family starve-" I try to say a little louder
"NO NO NO!-"
I'm beginning to feel at my wits end. I don't know how to calm her. I'm anger. I'm frustrated. I'm hurt. These broken people are my family. Why didn't they volunteer for me? Why did nobody stand up? Why-
SMACK!
I snap out of my head fast enough to see Rara hit the floor.
I look at Marnie. She looks at me and says,
"We'll be fine, Nate. We'll manage, okay. Just…take care of you."
In this family, she's the only one I trust to keep moving. When we were born I was positioned to leave our mother womb first, but she kicked her way out to be ahead of me giving me a black eye in the process. She's strong like that. She's not one to break down, well not that I've seen. During the war she single handly took care of our older sister. Before the war, Rara was just an ordinary girl. She never really did act older than us but she was happy. But then the war kind of broke her, but Marnie...I can trust her with this. To get rid of the pain I will cause this family when I don't come back from these games.
"Marnie, sell my things, and get rid of the bed. Sell it if you can. Follow the song of "The Drinking Gourd" if the railers sing it. That song is a signal for a group borrowing. Wait until 'light out' and find Atta, she'll help you." She nods at me.
"Times up."
She grabs me as the guard at my door tries to hurry my mother and Rara out and whispers in my ear,
"I love you.:
The door opens.
I turn. I see a 14 year old girl with hazel eyes and brown eyelashes hiding in the rubble. A peace keeper in front of her. There's a scythe, like the ones we use in the fields, in her hand. I run to him but before I get there he turns to me. He grabs me and the smell of plastic runs into my nose. Then a ringing sound in my ears as we both fall to the ground. Blood splatters on my face as we land in the mud. As I crawl to get from under him, I look up to that girl with her hazel eyes consumed with fear as she drops her scythe. I think, she saved me.
I walk up to her and embrace. There aren't any words coming from us for the few precious seconds we have together. I just hold her and she breaks down.
"Atta...it's okay. I'm here. It's okay to cry."
I look down to the body lying in front of us in the mud with a dead stare on his face as his precious lifeblood drains from his body.
I'd rather you shoot at tin can's in the backyard, but I know you'll go after birds. Shoot all the blue jays you want, if you can hit'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird."
-Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird"
I open my eyes to a 16 year old with brown lashes and hazel eyes, crying in my arms. She's grown to be so strong. Maybe if we'd have met in another time and place, things may have been different.
She breaks the embrace and wipes her eyes as she reaches into her coat pocket.
"I was going to give this to you tonight," she says dropping it in my hands, "but now…"
"Times up."
She does it again. She kisses me. Its not a quick one like before either. It's slow and meaningful and this time I respond but just like that it's over.
The peacekeeper just looks at us. I think he's too shocked for words. That's when Atta gives me one last glance and walks out.
In my hand is a ring.
It's been a few minutes now. I don't think anyone else is coming. That's when he shows up.
"Natalie."
"Dad."
Silence. Again. He stands there until he gets the nerve to walk over to me and sits down next to me on the couch.
"So...this is it."
"Yep."
"I saw that Atta girl walk out of here."
"Yeah, she came to say goodbye."
We pause. I watch him try to find words.
"You two are close...Real close."
I glare at him.
"How did you know?"
"Hey girly, I know you don't think I know you, but don't forget I helped raise you. You two have been too close before you even realized it. "
I can't help but smile.
"Look I know that I haven't been there for you or your mom since John died but I want you to know...I tried."
"I know…"
"Times up"
"Alright girly. I guess this is goodbye."
"Hey dad."
He turns around. I watch him study my face as I look for words.
"Fuck'em." I tell him. I turn to look at the peace keeper at the door.
"FUCK. THEM. ALL."
That when I see it. A smile creeping on my father's face as he walk out.