She was murdered two months ago. I still miss her. I can still picture her. My Amity, long flowing blonde hair, blue eyes and glasses.I have red hair and brown eyes. At school she had been teased for her cleverness and nerdy glasses. I liked that she was smart and I thought her glasses just made her cuter than she already was. I still sometimes visit our old hangout place in a tree hollow in our part of the woods. If only so I can sob my heart out at all the happy memories that we once had there together. My parents didn't like me going there. They said it was too morbid to keep visiting it was if it was a grave. It certainly felt like her grave and I chased away anyone who dared to play there. (I had a temper as fiery as my hair.) I wouldn't even let my younger brother Vero play there.
There are three questions that you would like to know the answers to. First off what is my name?
The answer to that my dears is Verity.
The second what exactly was the nature of our relationship?
To be truthful we were more than friends. Even more than that.
The third why was she murdered and who did it?
She was murdered because we were in love. And same-sex love was forbidden in the districts,because the capital wanted us to reproduce for their sick Hunger games. She was killed by those Capitol pricks. It was me or her and those Capitol pricks chose her. I wish I had died instead of her. She wasn't just my girlfriend she was my best friend. I still missed her so much. So much that it hurt.
I could still remember the first day we had met. We couldn't have been more different. I was loud, had a fiery temper and was in a middle-class family. Amity was quiet, shy and poor. We had been about six. Even then I had thought she was a cute girl. We played in the sandpit and I built her a sand castle and sprayed water at her from a watering can. She had giggled and clapped her hands in delight and we had been friends ever since. My parents didn't approve of our relationship. My mother couldn't understand why her daughter liked girls not boys.
"I hope Vero likes girls. We need someone to carry on the family tree." Mother had sniffed. None the less she would never tell tales on me. I think it was her stepfather who told. How I hated him. It was his fault that she I don't think he knew that they would kill her. Or maybe he simply didn't care. I don't know.
My brother Vero who was seven was too young to understand. I found myself blurting out stuff to Sapphire our white cat with blue eyes. Today my mother was oddly very affectionate and warm towards me.
Ha. Shes only being nice because she knows that I have a chance of dying tomorrow. Because tomorrow is the reaping for the Hunger Games. Which was a kind of gruesome and horrific entertainment for those Capitol pricks. I went to bed and could only pray that I would not have nightmares about tomorrow.
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