Tongues. You don't really think about them. But they are there. They are the things that help you eat your food. With tongues, people can talk. They are filled with nerves. Thousands of them. So when you eat food, you can taste. I used to take my tongue for granted. But I have been thinking. What really makes a tongue special?
I have time, too much time. I think all the time. There isn't much else of a path for me. I am uneducated. And I can't speak. There is no way for me to get a job. I do attend the finest parties. But not because I was invited. Well I was. Sorry. This is so confusing, I don't even know.
Allow me to explain. There are thousands of people who live in Panem. A fraction of those people do something wrong. A fraction of THOSE people get caught. And then there are those who do something wrong, get caught, and get punished. We are now in a group so small; it would be a one-in-a-million chance to be there. So go ahead. Ask me what happened to me. Ask me why I have all this time. Ask me who, what, where, when, why, and how. Ask me my story.
_
It happened years ago. But not too many. I was a normal child. Unbroken, unchanged. I lived in the Capitol. I only knew President Snow's name. In no universe did I think, well, um. We'll get to that part.
I had a small family. Just my father, mother, and me. We lived in a small house. It was like us, only slightly changed. We had no tattoos, no skin designs, no crazy hair styles. But we had regular skin, hair, and eyes. We were different.
The dreadful day came. My mother was executed. She had stood up against the president. If only there was a way for me to have stopped her...
She was shot. A bullet straight through her head. Father told me not to watch, but I never listen. I maybe should have listened. The pain and suffering I go through now might have been stopped. If only I listened. That is one thing that anyone can use against me.
A worker for President Snow stood next to Mother. Her knees were pressed against the icy ground. White bleakness surrounded her newly washed pants. I stared as the worker, I know now of him as Maxwell, pressed something shiny and black to Mother's head. It was clear what his intent was. I shut my eyes. But it seems now as if I could actually see her.
Loud booming echoed through the area. There was only silence to come. But in my head, every day, I remember the boom. The boom and the feeling of my eyes squeezed together. I try to forget, but it just replays over and over in my head.
Then the scream comes. It wells up in the back of my throat. I threaten it to stay, but the scream bubbles over. It spills out of my mouth. You can hear the blanket of silence being cut by my banshee shriek. "Mom!" I yell at the top of my lungs.
Running. My feet pounding the ground. "Mom!" I didn't know it then, but these are the last words that I will ever speak.
From here on out, the memory goes fuzzy. I see the scenery all around me go rushing forward. A limp, lifeless, body sits in front of me. I can only guess that it is my mother. I am engulfed in a giant hug. But not nearly as friendly. My father behind me is screaming. "April!" He shouts for his only daughter. "April!"
But he is too late. My pleas are muffled, and I can barely breathe. What comes next is pain. Pain in the place that I always had taken for granted. My tongue. The pink object is rapidly becoming red. The blood from my mouth is, well, bleeding all over the thing. I try to scream and call out for my parents. But inhuman grunts come out instead.
I don't know what is the worst thing. Being left in the Capitol. Staying in my own home with my father. But I would also be mocked. Teased. Tortured. I would be called a traitor.
Or here. Still in the Capitol, but a different part. A part where no one wants to be. Would I rather be teased and tortured at home, or here. With no family, no friends, no tongue, and way too much time on my hands.
I didn't choose it, but I have become the infamous Avox.