"Songbirds in Shackles"
We were all gathered at home, around our old, decrepit television set. Gale, Rory, Vick, Posy, Hazelle, Mother and I watched as the fifth day (or at least I supposed it to be the fifth day; this all seemed to be taking millions of years to pass) of the 74th annual Hunger Games. The title of the Games almost makes me laugh. The way the Capitol put it, you'd think that the Games were for charity or something.
But the Hunger Games were more than that. The Hunger Games are a horrible, grotesque way of reminding us of the sick hold that the President and the Capitol have and have always had upon us, the Districts of Panem. Where innocent people, kids my age, are plucked hopelessly out of their already suffering homes that need them and are forced into a death ring to heartlessly murder each other. Innocent people like my older sister Katniss, who we were at that moment watching as she crouched high up in a large tree, as she seemed to be contemplating a tracker jacker nest that hung on a branch in front of her.
I knew exactly what was running through Katniss's mind, and it was confirmed that the Gamemakers knew as well because they panned down the length of the tree's trunk, directly below the nest full of poisonous tracker jackers. On the screen, we saw a sleeping pack of Career tributes, one of which was slouched against the tree trunk, obviously having meant to keep watch, but failed.
Suddenly, we heard the branch with the nest on it give a final creak as my sister sent the large branch tearing down at them. It caught on several branches on it's way, but eventually made it down to the Careers. I hoped that none of the deadly insects reached my sister, even though I could not see or hear her up in that tree as the Careers began to swarm towards the nearby lake almost as madly as the tracker jackers swarmed at them. I saw several Careers fall dead after multiple stings. Then the camera flashed back to my sister who had since climbed down from the tree and was, for some reason, running towards the limp body of the female tribute from District 1. Then I realized that the girl had something that my sister knew how to use well: arrows. My sister managed to pry them away from the girl's body just as the Capitol helicopter swooped over her to pick up the body. My sister was beginning to act very disoriented, and I could tell that she had been stung by at least one tracker jacker. She was stumbling over her own feet and her eyes were beginning to dilate as if she was on some sick drug. Then suddenly, Peeta Mellark, the boy tribute from our District burst through the leaves covered in stings as well.
"Leave Katniss! Go!" he yelled at her. It took Katniss several seconds before the message he was trying to send to her seemed to sink in, and she tried to stumble away, shaking her head as if trying to rid herself of the tracker jacker's venom. The head of the Career pack arrived on the scene with the remaining Careers, all horribly disfigured by tracker jacker stings. "Why in the hell would you let her go?" yelled the hulking boy. Peeta was beginning to look disoriented as well, but still able to put up a fight. The boy reached for his pack. In it was a glistening silver knife. He lunged at Peeta, and stabbed at him, doing awful damage. When he finally figured that it was enough, the boy stopped and look at the rest of the Careers before putting his knife away. "C'mon you guys. He's as good as dead anyway. Let's just leave him."
As the Career pack left the scene of the tracker jacker attack, the camera faded into an image that I couldn't handle. My sister had fallen, twitching and shaking horrible onto the hard earth. Her eyes were as black and large as coal rocks. She screamed horribly, so loudly that It was almost feral. Primal instinct. She convulsed on the ground, clawing at the dirt with her nails, eyes rolling back into her head. That was all that I could take.
I ran outside, going around the house and into the small shed that contained my goat. I sat down on an overturned bucket and put my face in my hands. I wept for I don't know how long before I heard a voice coming from outside. "Prim?" I turned my head and made a halfhearted attempt to wipe the tears from my face. I could not let Rory see that I was crying. Crying was a sign of weakness and weakness could very easily turn into death. That was something that I had learned from my sister. "I'm in the shed…" I managed to choke out, my voice raspy from crying. "Milking the goat…" I heard Rory's footsteps come closer, and when he got to the entrance of the shed his silvery grey eyes glinted in the early sunrise. Before the Games had begun, I had never truly noticed how handsome Rory had gotten. Much like his brother Gale, Rory had olive toned skin and beautiful black, slightly shaggy hair. He was also tall and skinny, like most here in the Seam. In the Capitol, he would be what they would call a "rock star".
Rory eyed the shed suspiciously, seeing that my goat was still tied up to the small wooden post she was on during her resting time and that I was sitting atop the only milking bucket in the area. He gave me a look of something that wasn't exactly pity, but more like regret. He pulled the small wooden stool from behind a small bale of hay and positioned it next to the bucket that I was on. Once we were sitting next to each other, Rory grabbed my hand. It was warm and worn from his recent load of farm work that he had been assigned around his home. He gently stroked the back of my hand with his thumb and we made eye contact. We stared at each other for what seemed like ages before Rory spoke. "She's going to be alright, Primrose," he said reassuringly. No one had called me Primrose for years, aside from when I was originally called on reaping day. Suddenly, a warm urge sprang from the pit of my soul and into my actions. I leaned forward and gently pressed my lips against his. They were soft and warm, and very comforting. After several seconds, I realized that Rory was kissing me back. Then, after what felt like an eternity, we pulled apart.
We continued to stare into each other's eyes and Rory gently pushed a loose strand of blonde hair away from mine. Suddenly, Rory stood up. He grabbed my hand again and pulled me up with him. "C'mon," he said, his eyes lighting up again. "We should get back now."
I gave him a small smile and gladly followed him out of the shed. And it was at this moment that I knew that things wouldn't be the same between us, or between our families. We would resist being trapped in the Capitol's cage that all of the districts were trapped in, like songbirds. Shackled to the floor so that we could not take flight, even behind the bars to stretch our wings.
We would make it. We would resist.
FIN