Thanks to all my reviewers...
this chapter is dedicated to LoveTheBoyWithTheBread, who sent me a cookie!!!
om nom nom... and this chapter is also dedicated to whisper666 for his/(her?) constructive criticism! :)
Any MR fans out there?
This chapter is mostly character building. Yup, you caught me. :D
*
The train is going faster and faster, and I feel like I am flying, almost, whooshing past many different, vibrant colors. It's really cool.
For the first time today, I really get a look at the inside of this huge vehicle. Shanna and I each have our own bedrooms, bathrooms, closets filled with clothes. It's certainly a step up from my small country home where I share a room with my two sisters and my dear brother, Ben.
I can only imagine what life would be like if I won...
But of course, it won't happen. I know I won't last long, but I'm certainly glad it's me going in to do this.
I go to the bathroom, larger than my whole house. It's filled with two sinks, a shower, a bathtub, and a separate room for the toilet. I take off my clothes and step into the shower, spending five minutes trying to figure out how to work the damn thing. (Turns out, you turn the little knob so that the arrow is pointing toward the letter "H." I totally prefer the hot springs in my backyard.)
When my shower is over, I look into my dresser and find a simple burlap shirt and black pants. A fielder's outfit. It makes me think of home, and after I dress, I sit down on my oversized bed, and I cry.
After ten or so minutes, I don't really know, I wash my face of all my tears, sniff, and head out to the main lounge for supper. Shanna and Micah are already there, and Mony walks in as I sit down. We talk about what has happened today, and we talk about what is to come. Strategies, techniques-it all blends together in my mind into one big mushy ball of knowledge.
Finally, our dinner comes. I see a long breadstick with rye seeds in it. This is bread from our district! I point it out happily, and Shanna meets my eyes, her own blue eyes shining with tears. I feel a pang of jealousy because Shanna can cry all she wants, while I have to remain stoic.
Stupid Capitol. I cut up my steak with more gusto than needed, which is proven when I hear a crack and half of my plate falls to the floor. Flimsy decorative plates-I snort loudly in disgust, and Mony looks at me as if it is the biggest horror in the world. I glance at Shanna to see that she is hiding a smile.
"Oh, my," Mony says in his strange Capitol accent. He whistles loudly, and a stocky man comes running out the doorway and collects my plate, which has now proceeded to drip broth onto my pants. I smile apologetically to this man, who refuses to say a word. I wonder if I have set him off somehow.
After dinner, I stagger off to the bathroom and sit on the cool tile floor, putting my head between my knees. The full force of today, the breakneck speed of the train, and the rich Capitol food are too much to bear. I stagger to one of the sinks and heave. When I am done, I am certainly feeling much better.
The train stops for some reason, and I thank heaven, clean the sink, and collect my thoughts.
My mind drifts off, and I think of something that hasn't been talked about in my family for seven years. Something my sisters and Ben barely even remember, but I know this painful, vivid, memory by heart.
I remember my older sister, Anya.
Anya was eight years older than me, and she hated the Capitol. She would do everything in her power to piss them off, and one day it went too far.
I remember pulling up weeds, Anya next to me, and she told me something I would never forget.
"We're just pawns, Tay," she said. "We deserve the right to do something with our lives, and we deserve more than this hellhole country will ever give us. We can be free. I know we can be free!" Anya was nineteen, and I was eleven. I remember not knowing what a hellhole was, or what was so wrong with the Capitol. They saved us from war, didn't they? Isn't that what we learned in school? But I nodded, anyway, when I heard the sharp clack of boots just as a Peacekeeper grabbed Anya's arm roughly. I remember screaming as loud as I could, taking off to run from the fields, running, anywhere. Finally, I stopped and headed back toward where I had left my sister, but before I could return, I heard commotion in the city square. My mother was there, waiting for me, arms outstretched.
I remember Anya's shrieks of pain echoing through the wind, spiraling, drifting off to unknown places. I remember watching from behind my mother's crying form as Anya was put through that horrible, awful whipping, and I remember seeing the crimson blood flowing down her back. I remember the last word Anya had said to me, her face distorted from all the pain. I remember her yelling out to me, before she drifted away from me.
"Taylor," she said, tears and blood streaming down her face. "Remember me. Remember freedom." Anya had said her last words to me, and only me, before she took her last breath and her heart stopped beating.
The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly at what she had accomplished.
She had instilled rebellion into my veins.
And that is how my valiant sister, Anya, died smiling.
