My sister keeps trying to steal the laptop. I'm sure Suzanne Collins never had that problem :)
So I don't own hunger games!
I hope you like it!
The girl refused to sit down. She stood in front of the rebels, hands at her sides, tall, proud. Her hair was so matted with a mixture of mud, blood and ash that they could not tell what colour it was. In places, it was plastered to her face. Her dress colour was unidentifiable, and the small areas of skin left uncovered were smeared with the same mixture of mud, blood and ash that now characterised her hair colour. Her lips were cracked and swollen. She had a gash going from knee to ankle, parts of her dress were signed away, and her body flecked with small, shallow burns that looked to be caused by sparks. On her left cheek, there was a more serious looking burn, but nothing too bad.
It was her eyes that most intrigued the rebels of four. They had already spent hours trying to place her eyes. They were certain they had seen them before. They look out from her grief blackened face, the clearest, most beautiful shade of blue the people of four had ever seen, like the sea, and there was a depth to them that could only be imagined. Surely, one would not forget seeing such a pair of eyes?
There was a hint of something in those eyes, too. Something the people of four could not quite put their finger on. These eyes had once danced with laughter, shone with happiness, sparkled with youth and vigor and the joy of being alive...
Now there was only emptiness. Grief and loss and despair, forming an abyss of suffering. A void within the woman that made you want to look away.
She was an avox. Or at least, she was as quiet as one. Most probably she was from the Capitol. Snow was becoming increasingly fond of burning things. Only a week ago, he had given the order to burn a house full of avox's. As it they hadn't been punished enough, thought Mrs Hadds. It fit with the woman, however. How did she escape? They all had many questions, of course they did, none of which the poor girl was likely to be able to answer.
What's your name? That seemed important. How old are you? That seemed important, too. She did not look so very old, not as old as me, thought Mrs Hadds. She wasn't young either. It was hard to tell. In her eyes, there was grief and wisdom enough for any 70 year old. But the lines of her skin told another story. She was tall, with a full figure. She had clearly left her days of girlhood behind her years ago. Early 30s, wondered Mrs Hadds. Perhaps late 20s? Who knows? Not I. Perhaps her. Perhaps not even her. Suffering ages us all, and this woman had suffered well beyond her years, way beyond all their years. That much was clear.
As to the rest, it was guesswork. Unless she answered their questions. But it soon became clear she either couldn't or wouldn't. It was only natural, thought Mrs Hadds, that the girl did not want to talk. But wasn't she even a little curious as to how the war was playing out?
As it frequently did these days, Mrs Hadds mind wandered to her grandson, Finn. She wondered absently what he would make of the silent, sorrowful girl who had been through so much and would not share her woes. She was certain of this much; Finnick would be able to get her to talk. He could get anyone to do anything, even walk through the gates of hell.
"Could you tell us your name, my dear?" Asked Mrs Hadds. She cursed herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. How stupid, how insensitive, how plain rude! Of course the poor girl couldn't tell them her name! She was an avox!
"Are you an avox?" Asked someone else. Way to beat about the bush, thought Mrs Hadds, throwing a glance at her son in law and grandson, who sat in the corner. Mr Odair returned her look with a ghost of a smile. He was worried about Finn. Of course he was. They all were.
"You can just nod or shake your head, my dear!" Mrs Hadds urged.
The girl stared straight ahead, unflinching, unmoving, completely devoid of emotion. Either she was deaf, or she really didn't want them to know.
"I swear I've seen her somewhere before!" cursed Mr Andrews, rebel leader of four, from the corner.
Only then did the woman respond. She looked at Mr Andrews, her blue eyes filled with hate and mistrust. Her glare would have silenced a much more insensitive man than Trie Andrews.
Mr Odair gasped, and hit himself on the forehead. Everyone turned to look at him. He turned to his son.
"Taylor, didn't Finn take her to one of those fancy Capitol dinners?" He cried.
The girl started, and shook her head, somewhat urgently, too urgently, thought Mrs Hadds. She really didn't want them to know. What was it exactly she was hiding?
Taylor look up, almost lazily. There were deep purple circles under his eyes, dark enough to match the woman's. He looked at the woman a moment, then looked at his father.
"To be honest dad, Finn has taken a lot of girls to a lot of fancy Capitol dinners. If she is one of his dates, she's not worth saving. Those girls are just more of the girls Finn despises. They're all idiots with too much gold, eating out of the Capitol's hands. They make Finns life a misery. None of them are Annie."
His father cuffs him on the back of the head, though gently. "Taylor, the girl's an avox! Doesn't that tell you enough about her for you to know she's not just another of the Capitol's puppets? She's been through hell and back! Have some respect!"
Taylor's cheeks flushed. He got out of his seat and walked over to the girl. Stood in front of her, he saw her amazing eyes were even more tragic up close. She held herself up straight, looking him straight in the eye without flinching. She was brave. It was one of the most amazing displays of courage the young boy had ever seen. A level of courage he had always seen in Finn. A level of courage he could respect.
Shame rushed through him, making him want to vomit.
If she was an avox, and she must be, or else she would have answered their questions... If she was an avox, it meant she was not the kind of person who could stand by and watch whilst cruelty happened. It meant she was the kind of person that stood up for what was right. The kind of person who acted. At the cost of her life. At the cost if the right to speak.
She was exactly the kind of person Finn was. Exactly the kind of person he aspired to be.
As all this went through his mind, he continued to look her straight in the eye. Suddenly, he couldn't bear it any more. He reached out to do, he didn't know what, take her hand or something, offer her some kind of comfort.
For the first time since she'd arrived, a flicker of something akin to fear sparked in her eyes.
Cursing himself for acting like the child everyone but him knew he was, Taylor hurried to reassure her.
"No one here will hurt you. You are safe. Don't be afraid, please." he paused. "Dammit, I wish we knew your name!"
She squared her shoulders ever so slightly, rekindling their eye contact by looking directly into his eyes. A boy she knew. A boy who had not recognised her.
There was not a trace of fear in her as she opened her mouth and said "My name is Madge Undersee. And I am not afraid. I am angry."