Panem.
12 districts. One bloodthirsty Capitol.
Loads of people. And kids. So many that 552 had been slaughtered by each other for survival- I mean -entertainment.
Like- it wasn't for population issues, it was for a reminder that the people were helpless...
The Hunger Games.
The thought of it made Jeremick feel like crawling into a hole to die, of a natural cause, of his own hand, not because he accidentally puked on someone's pet cow.
You might be wondering... why would he puke? Because he's sensitive like that. A small nose bleed; puke. A paper cut; endless gagging. A scrape; collapsing. Watching the Hunger Games; fainting two minutes in.
Hey, he was just a kid.
You probably weren't wondering, but... meh.
As for the little pet cow who isn't you. Having domestic animals for pets instead of teddy bears was rather common in District 10. Livestock outnumbered the people there. Note that I said livestock, not specifically cows or pigs because that would be inaccurate.
So far, Jer had defiled 23 adorable farm animals, his most recent being-
Oh I don't know quite very recently?
The young farmer ran through the field, screaming at the top of his lungs as a huge boy with a scrape on his knee chased him, holding his puke drenched lamb like a club.
Jer was running partially for the lamb's sake, but mainly for his own.
It's okay, the lamb didn't mind.
He was losing the well-built butcher-in-training.
He was running in the general direction of somewhere in the Arctic... so that's North... and half a kilometer away was the mill / home he lived in. It's safe to assume that was his destination.
Jer took a deep breath, then put on a burst of speed with a fresh scream, his grey eyes alight with determination.
He once puked on my llama, so I'm rooting for Gurner-something-something, the guy chasing him.
Jer's a nice kid and all, but DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TAKES TO DYE A LLAMA IN SEVEN COLOURS!?
Anyway...
Soon, Jer reached his father's berry bushes. Brushing back his sweaty dark hair, he dived in and started crawling through the bushes. He must've wasted around 3 litres worth of Ribena...
Once he neared the end, he turned and ducked beneath the fence which enclosed the mill. He straightened up and looked behind him. Gurner was gone. Still, he continued running and he dashed into the mill. He ran down to the basement and into his home.
The three inhabitants inside froze at the sudden appearance and they stared at Jer. His clothes were all muddy and sodden with blackberry juice, and there were a few puke stains too...
His massive (by massive I mean horizontally and vertically) mother put her hands on her hips.
"JEREMICK DERRY LANE! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?"
Footsteps echoed from the stairs coming up from even lower (it was a two story basement) and Jer's wiry father came up.
"There you are! You missed your history lesson! Come, come!"
Mrs. Lane then turned on him. "ARE YOU BLIND YOU EYELESS WEASEL!? HE NEEDS A SHOWER! HE REEKS OF PIG!"
Funny how she's normally always saying that's his natural scent...
Mr. Lane sighed. "By the time we're done, he'd need a second bath."
Realization dawned upon Mrs. Lane's fat- I mean- massive face.
Jer dejectedly headed towards the stairs, heading down with his father.
Long story short... he watched the replay of the 1st Hunger Games... and Jer found out why the TV was in a completely separate room. It was because for the next 4 years, until he would be eligible for the reaping, he'd have to watch as many of the Games as possible... in the hopes of being desensitized.