BLAH BLAH BLAH DISCLAIMER BLAH BLAH BLAH I'M NOT SUZANNE COLLINS BLAH BLAH BLAH
THIS IS CO-WRITTIN BY MYSELF AND PRIMROSE-RUE HER FIRST FANFIC EVER...AND OUR FIRST SUBMIT YOUR OWN TRIBUTE!
ENJOY!
I sit there on the uncomfortable and decrepit sofa, with my little girl on my lap braiding her long black hair. I look at her and decide that for a five year old its time to cut that mane of hers.
I turn the TV on to see President Livencia taking her place on the bright stage. The sky is a stunning crystal blue and the sun is shining brightly it looks like a painting. The capitol is so beautiful, unlike here where it's cloudy, windy, cold, gloomy, and dark, just like how I feel. The weather in the Capitol is completely contradicting how the entire country on Panem feels right now waiting for the President to open up the envelope.
The envelope mocks me in her hands, laughing at me as it senses my fear. My fear for my daughter, my fear for my friends' children and for all the children of Panem. As she twirls the letter, continuing to mock me, my heart starts beating uncontrollably fast, about to burst out of my chest. I know it's stupid to feel this, I'm blessed that my daughter is only five. We have seven years till she has to face the reaping; she barley understands the premises of the games. We still watching the reaping and the games out of force knowing that one day she might be a candidate. That day won't arise for many years to come, for now it's time to for her to be a kid, and live life, and be happy. After all, that's only job a kid should have to worry about at her age.
I gently pick up my little angel off of my lap as I go to the kitchen to make us dinner. The president is doing her annual speech, ranting on about the rebellion. She talks with such passion about the rebellions' peak and fall. About the rebels winning and how that rebellion caused damage and the capitol was reinstated. Once again destroying district thirteen and reestablishing the games putting fear and heartbreak into every single one of us.
That's when I hear the tear of the envelope. I sigh, another 23 teenagers are plummeting to their deaths. It's unfair how they can just kill us instantly and not even care. It for the greater good they say, but it's hard to believe that when children are dead. How is that in anyway good?
I stir the soup mixing in the ingredients, as I quickly glance at my daughter intensively watching the TV. Seven years, I think, only seven year.
In the background I hear the coarse and husky voice of our President, a voice I've always hated and feared. She begins her speech with the usual Capitol bullshit, but then comes the dreaded information.
"In the first Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that their own children were dying because of the rebels' choice to initiate violence, all districts were made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that would represent them. In the second Quell, as a reminder that two rebels had died for one Capitol citizen, every district was required to send double the amount of tributes. In the third Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power the Capitol possesses, the male and female tribute will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."
The president goes silent, remembering how those games never actually finished due to the rebellion, I know it pains her to think of that. I'm happy that for once the Livencia is in pain and not me. She continues.
"The games live on!" Her voice booms, breaking the silence. "We are now at the fourth quarter quell, the first quell since the rebellion. And we plan on showing no mercy." I shut my eyes, picturing a better world where none of this existed, but that's never going to happen and I continue to stir the soup. I hear the tear of the envelope and almost hear the smile that must be on her face right now. The President reads of the card. "As a reminder that the Capitol is not merciful, that we do not protect anyone that will not obey, and that no one is safe there will be 2 reapings. The first reaping will be only one tribute from each district aged 14 to 18. Both Females and males will be put into the same bowl. As no children are save 2 tributes, one male and one female will be reaped. The ages….. 5 to 13.
May the odds be ever in your favor."
I freeze, the words repeating in my head. Feeling the scream building up in my chest. I can't think straight, I can't control my angry anymore. I throw the pot at floor, cracking the tiles and sending a chaos of soup on the floor.
I know what this means. My daughter, my little angel, just a baby, may be reaped and killed. I fall to the ground, tears filling my eyes, just like the millions of other mother in Panem. This is no game, this is pure torture. How could little children be reaped, they barley know what the games are.
My daughter comes up to me, I bet she doesn't even know what just happened, and she probably doesn't even realize she may have to fight for her life. Her voice is quiet filled with concern. "Mommy, why did you make a mess?"
I look into her beautiful green eyes. "I didn't make the mess, the Capitol did."