ACT I SCENE I
estella oxley, district 10
When the sun ascended from behind the horizon and began to illuminate the sprawling green fields of District 10, Estella Oxley was already well past awake and tending to the cows, the crack of her bull whip being the only sound aside from the buzz of the electrical fence and the occasional 'moo'. She'd woken up, washed her face, braided her hair, gotten dressed, eaten and left the cottage before her parents and siblings could even stir in their sleep.
Many of the girls in the District called her crazy; she preferred the term hardworking.
Granted, Estella wasn't exactly your average fifteen-year-old girl. Estella was the first child born to Colt and Belinda Oxley in the farming part of the District, the poorer part. Her family's farm was small, only five acres, and was bordered by the Bullion ranch and the large electrical fence that went around the entire District. Colt Oxley had come from a long line of farmers, the farm she grew up on being passed down from his great-great grandfather to his son during the Dark Days and then from his great grandfather to his grandfather, and so on until it came into his hands. He was extremely good looking, having the whole tall, dark and handsome down to a T – it was his good looks and wit that won over Belinda Collins. Estella's mother was born in the richer half of the District to two scientists who worked on genetically modifying the DNA of the livestock. They were well off and more than a little bit snobby, so you can probably imagine the horror of Belinda's parents when she ran off with a poor cattle breeder.
From day one, Estella's goal was to make money. Her goal was to make enough money to ensure that her family was never hungry again.
"My little star, there are only three things I could ever wish from you," Estella's mother used to tell her when she was a toddler, bouncing her daughter on her lap gently as the duo stared from the window, watching as Colt Oxley led the animals back into the stables.
"What is it, Momma?" Little Estella would eagerly question, turning her wide calf brown eyes from the window and locking them with her mother's light blue ones.
"I wish for you to look after your family," Estella was hanging onto her mother's every word, her chubby little fingers twisted into the wispy hair of her grubby doll. "I wish for you to do your duty to your District, and I wish for you to live with honour in your actions."
Estella's dark ringlets bounced as she nodded her head wildly, quietly murmuring to herself. "Family. Duty. Honour."
Belinda Oxley grinned, wrinkles forming next to her eyes. "That's right, my star."
Ever since then, those three words had been Estella's life motto – they were constantly ringing in her head. Even as the dark-haired girl cracked her whip in warning as one of the more tempestuous bullocks snorted angrily and began pawing the ground, her mother's words were echoing in her mind as she pondered about what to do with the particularly difficult cow. It would be best to just kill it, Estella thought, biting her lip as she tightened her grip on the bull whip, knowing that if she was going to take on an angry bull and survive, it would be her skill with a bull whip that protected her – even her father acknowledged his eldest daughter's proficiency with the weapon. The damn thing is causing more trouble than it's worth.
"That dang bullock has been giving me trouble for weeks." The harsh drawl of her father almost made her turn around, but knew better than to make any sharp movements. "You done gone pissed him off."
"I didn't do nothin'." Estella replied, keeping her eyes on the pacing bullock. "I say we put him down. It'd make life a hell of a lot easier for us and would be nicer on him. Poor things probably got something off in his membrane. Plus he'll make a good steak for a Capitolite tonight." She chuckled humourlessly.
Colt Oxley looked pensive for a moment, his thick black beard had strands of grey and the lines next to his eyes seemed more noticeable in the hot morning sun. "I think you just might be right," he stated, lighting a crude homemade cigarette as he handed his daughter two sheathed throwing knives. "You can take this one, I'm gon' sort out the horses. Be careful 'cause it's fly season." And he was gone, a cloud of grey smoke in his wake.
Estella groaned loudly, forgetting momentarily about the furious bull that was staring her down until a loud 'moo' boomed throughout the holding pen. "Fuck," she muttered as the 1,400-pound bull began to run towards her. Rolling out of the way quickly, she stood and faced it, cracking her whip loudly as she looked for a way out. The bull attempted to run at her again, but this time the sound of a whip sliced through the air as it wrapped around the bull's horns, Estella used its momentum against it and managed to swing onto its back using the whip as she had to hundreds of bulls before him. Jamming her elbow down with practiced precision onto the back of the bullock's neck, she clutched on with dear life as it frantically writhed in an attempt to stop the pain and throw her off. After what felt like hours, but it was probably only a couple minutes, the cow slumped over and hit the dusty ground.
Jumping from the bullock's unmoving body, she checked for eye movement and reflexes to ensure that it was unconscious – it was. Unsheathing one of the blades quickly, Estella didn't even blink as she inserted the sharp blade just above the breast bone, angled towards his head. Blood spurted from the long slice, and she made quick work of decapitating the bullock. Estella smirked slightly as she remembered what her father had taught her about killing cattle.
"Remember to cut off his balls," he'd said as he watched the five-year-old Estella unsurely go about the bull.
"His balls?" Estella's hands were covered with thick blood that spread to her hair when she used them to brush a curl behind her ear. "What are balls?"
Colt Oxley guffawed loudly. "His knick-knacks." He smirked, popping his tongue twice as he made a crude gesture with his hands. "There," he pointed to them, and smiled proudly as she didn't hesitate and took them off with a single slice, much like she had now.
Standing and re-sheathing the knife after cleansing it from the blood, Estella pondered about what to do next. She knew better than to try to move it alone, but everyone, save her father, was fast asleep. Or so she thought until her mother's voice thundered across the field.
"ESTELLA! GET YOURSELF HERE NOW, OR, SO HELP ME GOD, I WILL WHOOP YOUR ASS!"
Estella's eyes widened and she removed the bloody apron she had haphazardly slung over her powder blue dress – her reaping dress. Dropping the knives, she flung open the paddock door, waiting to ensure it clicked behind her, and sprinted across the field towards the family cottage, where her mother was stood, dark hair neatly tied into a low ponytail and a stormy frown on her face. "Mornin', Mom."
Belinda Oxley was, quite evidently, not in a good mood, and for a good reason too – today was the reaping, today was the day that two of her children could be stolen from her. "What have you been doing? That's your best dress and it's covered with blood!"
"Had to put down one of the bullocks, he's been giving us problems for months. It's what's best for it." Estella defended, a frown on her face.
"Why couldn't your father do it?" Belinda scowled, the expression scarily similar to the one on her daughter's face.
"It was my idea, mama. The man who passes the sentence, should swing the sword." Estella's face was set, her pride getting the best of her.
"You're not a man, Estella." Her mother's fingers wrapped around her sun-browned skin and began dragging her upstairs to the master bedroom, muttering the entire time about 'stupid farmers' and 'goddamned cows'. A dark plum dress with three-quarter length sleeves was handed to her. "Put this on."
Estella undid the front-fastening buttons on the blood splattered dress and took it off, leaving her in the white bra and underwear she was given for her fifteenth birthday by her grandmother. Pulling the plum dress over her head, she stood and the skirt fell to her knees. The dress was pretty, Estella decided after looking at herself in the cracked mirror her mother had propped up in the corner of the room, it was tight around the top, but flowed out to her knees loosely – the dress was probably one of her mother's old ones. "Thank you," Estella smiled kindly at her mother, who seemed to lose a small amount of her tenseness.
"Here," it returned as quickly as it left. Belinda moved and undid the pieces of thin leather that kept Estella's thick locks in two French braids. Running her thin fingers through the inky strands, removing it from the plaits and undoing any tangles, Estella's hair tumbled down to her hip bones in the same loose ringlets she was born with. "There." Belinda nodded approvingly. "Now, go and fetch your brother, you two can walk down to get checked in, and your father and I'll walk down later with Angus and Bucky."
Estella didn't reply, she just left the room and knocked on the door of the room she shared with her eldest younger sibling. "Jackson?" A sniffle could be heard from inside. "Jackie? You okay?" She pushed open the door and frowned at what she saw. "Oh, Jackson, don't cry," this was the twelve-year-old's first reaping and, sat in his best clothes with tears streaming down his face, to say that he was terrified was an understatement. She was across the small room in an instant, sitting down on the bed they shared and bringing him into a bone crushing hug.
Young Jackson was trembling as he rested his head on his sister's bosom. "I'm so scared, Stella. What if they pick me?" He whimpered.
"They won't." Estella forcefully stated, running a hand through his soft black curls. "They won't pick you, okay?"
"Do you piggy swear?" He lifted his head and locked eyes with his sister, the only difference between their eyes was that his were bloodshot and teary.
She felt herself smile at the District children's way of making sure a promise was for real, and wrapped her larger pinky finger around her brother's smaller one. "Piggy swear." She released his finger and brushed his hair from his forehead, kissing it lightly. "Come on, we need to go or we'll be late."
"Is that really a bad thing?"
It took around an hour to walk from the farm to the centre of town. Their farm was on the outskirts of the District and unless they wanted to drive a tractor – that would probably break down – to town, they would have to walk very briskly to ensure they weren't late. Tardiness to reapings wasn't tolerated and the person or persons in question would be whipped by peacekeepers – which was not something that Estella Oxley wanted to start off her day with.
When the duo arrived at the town centre, Estella pushed away the urge to pull her hand from her brother's sweaty grasp and wipe it free from the moisture. They stopped at the back of one of the relatively short lines that lead to the long tables, where peacekeepers were pricking the fingers of the children and using blood to mark their fingerprints.
"Is it going to hurt?" Jackson's voice had always been quiet, something that never boded well with the Southern drawl all of the farmland-born people had.
"The finger prick?" Estella raised an eyebrow, to which her brother nodded. "Oh, that? No, not at all. Think when a chicken pecks your hand," – seeing his expression of familiarity, she continued – "that doesn't hurt does it?"
Jackson shook his head, but still seemed unbelievably tense. "I don't like this," he whispered as their turn came.
"Neither do I, but it's okay, little lamb," Estella's voice was soothing as she released his hand and stepped forwards with a bright smile, holding out her finger and leaning over the desk to her favourite peacekeeper. "Mornin', Dax."
"Hey, Stell." He replied, pricking her finger and placing it down onto the book, before scanning the bloody swirl. Estella first met Dax on his first day stationed in District 10, when the District 2-born twenty-year-old had stumbled onto their farm by accident while exploring his new post and was kicked in the face by a rearing horse, causing a lot of laughter on eleven-year-old Estella's part as she watched her mother bandage the blushing man up.
"That there's my brother," she whispered quickly, pointing at the boy who resembled a frightened rabbit. "Be gentle."
Dax nodded and Estella stood back, waiting for her brother. She watched silently as he reluctantly held out his finger, and as Dax talked to him so animatedly that the boy didn't even realise that he'd had his finger pricked. "Next!"
Estella joined hands with her brother one more, and she could see that the age pens were almost full. "Alright, I'm going to go with my age group and you need to go over there." She pointed to where a gaggle of twelve-year-olds were stood, all looking like they were about to shit their pants; Estella could see straight through their false bravado. "Look, there's Orford from your school, go stand with him and I'll see you later." She pecked his cheek and pushed him gently towards his schoolmate. "You'll be fine."
The age pen for fifteen-year-old girls was filled with people she wasn't familiar with, so when she slipped in, Estella made an effort to put herself as far away from the other girls as possible. It had been a long time since she'd actually left their farm, having left school when Bucky had been born four years earlier due to her father needing extra help on the farm. She didn't have many friends, and preferred it that way. Looking above the crowds, she stared blankly at the huge screen above the Justice Building.
"Stella!" An excited squeal and arms wrapping around her neck brought her from her thoughts. It barely took her a second to grin widely and close her arms around the waist of her tiny best friend.
Sable Bullion and Estella Oxley had known each other since the first reaping where they discovered that they actually lived next door to each other. The Bullion and Oxley ranches bordered each other, and the two girls had been inseparable since their first meeting, Sable having all but forced her friendship upon her. "Sabe, let go, your pissing off the 'keepers."
The short redhead pulled away quickly and scowled fiercely, smacking her friend's arm. "I haven't seen you in three months!" Each word was punctuated by a slap.
Estella simply rolled her eyes and shoved the smaller girl away. "I've been busy."
"Busy? I'll show you busy, you silly cow–"
"Shut up, it's starting." Another one of the girls hissed as the video they played before every reaping started.
The two girls fell silent and tuned out the video, like most of the other children. Estella's eyes fell on the District escort, Florentina. Every year, it seemed, Florentina Le Ricci's look changed into something more bizarre. This year, Florentina had skin so white that it was translucent, thick purple veins, which were probably tattoos or drawn on, visible. On her head was a spiral-shaped sky blue wig, and her makeup was as dramatic and dark as ever. Her lips were a hot pink that matched her eyes and her shoes. The dress she had on was a shade of yellow so bright it made Estella's eyes hurt. "Oh, I love that," Florentina grinned obnoxiously after the video ended, seeming to miss the icy expressions of the children.
The Capitolite teetered across the stage and towards the bowl filled with names. When you come from a poor starving family, like Estella, or you're too family-orientated for your own good, like Estella, you can opt to take tesserae; each tessera is worth a meagre year's supply of grain and oil for one person and you can do this for each of your family members as well. So, Estella realised with a wince, she had her name entered thirty-two times. Once, because she had to, and seven times for tesserae for grain and oil for herself, her four siblings, and her parents. In her eyes it was worth it, however, as Jackson's name was only in once. "We'll follow District tradition and begin with the boys!" Florentina's voice was screechy and over-excited as she reached her and into the reaping pool filled with thousands of slips of paper.
"...Jackson Oxley!"
Time to seemed to stand still. I must have heard it wrong. It can't be him, she thought, her eyes wide with horror and shock. No, please, God, don't let it be him.
But her worst fears came true when a shriek of terror that could only belong to her brother rung out across the courtyard, closely followed by a loud sob from her mother. "NO!" The word left her lips before she could even comprehend it, tears were building behind her eyes as she watched her baby brother walk up onto the stage, tears streaming down his face as he pathetically struggled against the peacekeepers. Estella felt Sable's hand rest on her shoulder, but shrugged her off as the small boy was lifted onto the stage, shaking like a leaf.
Florentina appeared uncomfortable. "There, there," she patted his back awkwardly before smiling brightly again. "Now, the girls." As Florentina's white hand hovered over the names in the bowl, thoughts were whirling through Estella's head faster than ever before. After a few tense seconds, a slip was pulled out and a name was read off: "...Bulla Garcia."
A loud sob escaped the shaking thirteen-year-old and Estella's jaw was set as she blurted out the words that would seal her fate. "I volunteer!"
The silence was deafening. Hands grabbed Estella's arms and she plastered on a harsh glare as she swatted off their hands and walked to the stage, standing out and looking at the crowd, seeing Sable crying with a hand covering her mouth.
"Ooh, a volunteer!" Florentina was even more annoying up close, and her musty perfume made her nostrils sting as the District escort wrapped and arm around her shoulders. "What's your name, dear?
"Estella Oxley." Her voice was as emotionless as her face.
Even Florentina seemed sympathetic. "And I'll bet my buttons that this is for your brother?"
"Yes." Estella's reply was curt and as her eyes travelled across the crowds, she made the mistake of locking eyes with her mother.
"Not my babies," she'd fallen to her knees and was crying harder than Estella had ever seen. "Please, not my babies."
Florentina, rather intelligently, ignored the wails of Belinda Oxley, but Estella couldn't. She couldn't ignore the cries of a mother who was facing losing one or both of her children. The sobs rung in her eyes as she bowed her head, allowing a tear hidden by the thick curtain of hair to fall. "Shake hands," the woman instructed.
Estella turned to her brother and took his hand in hers, shaking it before holding onto it as they were lead into a room of the Mayor's house.
~8~
The siblings were led through several twisting corridors before they were all but thrown into a room.
There was a brief silence before Estella swept Jackson up into a rib-cracking hug, the younger boy's tears wetting her dress. "You promised, Stella," he cried. "You promised they wouldn't pick me."
"I know, I'm so sorry," Estella could feel her heart breaking as she clutched him closer to her. "I'm going to protect you, you're coming out of this alive, understand?"
"What about you?" They locked eyes and she chose her words carefully.
"You're more important." She replied. "You're going to be okay. It's all going to be okay."
The door was flung open again and stood there was their family. "My baby," Belinda had taken Jackson into hug and was crying on his shoulder. "My poor, poor baby."
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Colt Oxley was a stern man, and he'd only become sterner with age. His gaze was angry as he met his daughters eyes, though she could see the inner conflict in them along with an emotion that she hadn't seen from him in a long time: pride. "You stupid girl."
Colt's strong arms wrapped around his daughter and she buried her face in his chest like she did when she was a child. "I wasn't, I just want to keep him safe. I couldn't leave him. Please understand, Daddy, please don't be angry."
He released her from the hug, but kept his hands on her upper arms. "You're a fucking idiot, but no you ain't no coward." Colt shook her slightly but hugged her once more, kissing her hairline. "Keep him safe, Estella."
"I will." She whispered as he released her.
Estella barely had a second to breathe before she was tackled by her mother. "You silly girl, you silly, silly girl. My silly, silly girl." Belinda Oxley was past the point of coherency, utterly distraught at the situation her family was facing.
"Mom, it's okay. I'm going to keep him safe. He's going to come home." She assured her mother, wiping her tears.
"But what about you, my little star?" Belinda sniffled.
"I want a proper District send off." Estella's words sent new tears falling form her mother's eyes – her baby was planning her own demise to protect her brother.
Belinda sobbed brokenly and pulled away, gripping her daughters face between her calloused hands. "Remember our words: Family, Duty, Honour." A lone tear streaked down Estella's face and she nodded, inhaling sharply. "Volver a mí, mija."
It had been years since Estella and her mother conversed in the old language, and she let out a strangled sob at the words. "Voy a, mamá."
"Oh, my baby," Belinda wailed.
"Stella?" Hands tugged at the hem of her dress and she released her mother and crouched down to the level of her youngest siblings. It was little Bucky that spoke, his glassy brown eyes curious. "What's going on?"
Estella winced and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm going away for a while." She replied calmly, ignoring the lump in her throat.
"How long for?" Bucky Oxley was only four, but already, his eyes held a spark of intelligence that made him seem far wiser than his young years.
"A long, long time, little lamb." Estella replied, brushing a curl from his forehead. Bucky fell into a thoughtful silence before flinging his skinny arms around her neck.
"I don't want you to go!" Angus' voice held all of the immaturity Bucky's didn't. The six-year-old was going through his I-want-what-I-want-and-I'm-going-to-get-it phase. He stamped his foot and pouted, clutching his sister's hand. "You're not going!"
"Stop it, Angus." Colt snapped, cuffing the boy round the back of the head. "She has to leave."
At that moment, the door swung open. "Goodbyes are over." The peacekeeper gruffly stated, beginning to throw the family from the room.
"Be careful. Do what you need to do – think about the consequences later," her father quickly advised, showing himself out of the room after roughly shoving the hands of the peacekeepers off of him.
"I love you!" Estella's voice was the last thing the Oxley's heard as the heavy door slammed shut and she and Jackson were left alone until the crying Sable burst through the doors, flinging her arms around Estella's neck in a hug so tight she felt as though she was being strangled.
"Oh, my God." Sable was dribbling, sniffling, hiccupping and crying – Estella really didn't know which to sort out, so allowed the girl to cry, feeling a few of her own tears slip as well. "How could you do this?" Sable unwound her arms from Estella's neck and forced the taller girl to meet her almond-shaped brown eyes, the two of them realising that this would be the last time they'd ever see each other. "Bring him back alive," Sable's eyes flickered to Jackson, "you're brave, Stell. You know how to fight. Use a whip and throw knives. If anyone could do it, it's you."
Estella's eyes were filled with tears and she looked terrified, her breathing quickening as it really it her what she'd done. "Please look after them," she murmured. "Please, don't let them starve. Sable, promise me you'll keep them safe."
"I promise." Sable didn't hesitate. "My great uncle, he's missing his legs. He'll be your mentor. Tell him that it's Jackson that he needs to focus on, he'll do his best. He's kind." Sable reached into her pocket and produced a leather bracelet, tying around Estella's wrist. "Here, this can be your token."
The leather was old and browned, sun-dried and had obviously been worn many, many times, there was a small crucifix pressed into the side. She faintly recognised it as being the bracelet Sable's father had given to her when she was a child – the girl had never parted with it. "Sable..." Estella whispered, but was interrupted by another fierce hug.
"May the Lord protect you." Sable muttered as the peacekeeper barged into the room. "Both of you," she pressed a quick kiss to both of their cheeks as the peacekeeper pushed her from the room, leaving the siblings alone.
The duo were led from the Justice Building and onto a huge train, where Florentina showed them their rooms, requesting that the siblings met back in the main compartment in an hour.
"So this is it." Jackson said, lying back on Estella's bed.
"I guess it is," she joined him and they fell silent for a long time, hands joined as they took comfort in the simplicity of the moment; the calm before the storm.
"What's an hour?" Jackson's question came out of the blue and Estella jumped at his words.
"I'm not sure, maybe it's some kind of Capitol thing." Estella replied, biting her lip in thought. "I think it's got to do with time..."
"What?" Jackson giggled, and Estella joined him. "How can an 'hour' help you tell the time?"
"No idea," Estella snorted. "Probably a posh word for the sun. Wouldn't expect Florentina to know about the sun, though, with how pale she is, and all."
Jackson nodded in agreement. "Speaking of the sun, what time is it?"
Estella stood and looked out the window, finding the blinding sun easily. "One o'clock."
"Oh," he replied, standing too. The duo watching as the green fields of District 10 slowly began to disappear.
Translations:
Regresa a mí, mija - Come back to me, my daughter
Voy a, mamá - I will, mom
A/N: I'm backkkkk! I've decided to restart this story, with a new plot and starting point. I loved/love this story loads, and I lost my inspiration with it for a while, but I've got back into it and have already got a plan for the story, with a large portion of it already written. I'm still a little unsure about the decision, and I would love to hear your feedback on it - should I carry on? Or should I try again with the other one? Let me know what you think by reviewing, or just PMing me. Your reviews and feedback are/is greatly appreciated! Please review, follow & favourite! LittlexMissxVicious X