Hey, it's been far too long but here's the next chapter. But I wanted to carry on with this, so even if it takes me a while it'll all be my best work, writing I'm proud of. And as you'll notice this is a bit longer again(: Anyway I think part of the reason I didn't want to carry on that much was the lack of reviews because since my story got deleted ages ago, nobody's really noticed. So I'm jyst saying that I'd really appreciate reviews... I think it would help motivate me. It doesn't have to be good reviews, it can just be what you think of the story. But yes, thanks for reading!
CHARLOTTE RIVERS
Dawn is breaking, I can see the flashes of light slide from underneath the door. Siary is across from me, I can see the soft rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps, she's surely having no nightmares, which I can't quite understand as I was crying my eyes out before my first reaping.
Five years later, it's just as scary, but I don't want to be crying, that won't win me any points if I am reaped. I hate today. Not just the fear of being reaped but the memories... My brother Peter killed himself on this day, five years ago, when he was just fourteen. I was eleven, and I remember it all. He must have been depressed or something. I know he was scared about the reaping, but he never told me he was that scared. So scared that he'd take his own life. He left me a letter but to this day I haven't been able to read it, too scared of my brother's last words. Maybe I'll read it when I'm eighteen. (If I'm still alive by then...)
I roll out of bed but I'm still overly tired, so i manage to crash to the floor, I moan, my head pounding, when my sister wakes up, rubbing her eyes. I try to shush her but she's tired too and confused.
"What?" She moans, her eyes barely open.
"Nothing, just go back to sleep!" I say, trying to keep my voice in a whisper. I slip out the room and go downstairs, and sit at our kitchen table. Five chairs, for a household of four. I look up at dad's hunting coat, hanging in the corner. I doubt we're going out today, dad will probably be grieving. He was close to Peter as well, but he didn't get a letter. I was the only one who got a letter, and that's why everyone wanted me to open it. And that's one of the main reasons I never did. If I read it I'd have had to explain why my brother killed himself, and who wants to do that?
I thought I'd quietened Siary back to sleep, but apparently not as she enters the kitchen.
"Siary, you haven't got a jacket on, won't you be cold?" I say, because I'm always worrying about my clumsy little sister.
"No..." She shakes her head at me and sits down opposite. "You're thinking about Peter, aren't you?"
"I didn't think you'd remember him..."
"Of course I remember him! I was only seven! And anyways, you guys have been dodging around the subject for the last five years. I wish you'd let me in, Charlotte, and stopped shutting me out!" At twelve, Siary seems so much older than I'd ever imagined her to be. I try to think of something to say, but Siary gets out of her chair and walks out the room. I sigh, I mean what am I supposed to do? When's the right moment to talk to your little sister about your brother's suicide? I head out the door, only grabbing a jacket at the last minute. To my surprise, Anerica is already in our spot.
"Hey," She says, smiling. "I thought you'd still be asleep."
"Nightmaring, you mean? But yeah, I woke up."
"Oh Charlotte I'm so sorry..." Sorry? This is everyone's reaction when I talk about Peter. I can't say it's overly helpful...
"And then Siary had a go at me this morning!" I am almost shouting now, it just makes me so angry, it feels like everything has been pinned on me and I'm sick of it. I'm only sixteen myself, so why should I be looking after everyone?!
"I'm sorry." She says, sympathetically. Again.
"Really?" I say, and I can't hide the anger in my voice. Maybe I am angry at my siblings, but I'm taking it out on Anerica, my best friend. Oh well, she should be more helpful. I need a friend, not someone who feels sorry for me.
"Well what do you expect me to say Charlotte?" This isn't an angry or sarcastic question, it's honest, but for some reason it only makes it worse.
"I just wish... someone would look after me!" I collapse into tears and Anerica holds me in her arms. This time it's my turn to be sorry. "I'm sorry for taking it out on you, Anerica." She just smiles. Anerica, always looking after me.
The reaping. Our square is small but filled, with some people even spilling out onto the surrounding streets. As I'm actually in the reaping, a peacekeeper guides me towards my section. Anerica said she'd meet me here but she's obviously not here yet. Probably helping one of her many siblings.
When she gets here she slips in silently and squeezes my hand, I smile gratefully, I really need her support. And then I see her. Siary stands, literally shaking, in her twelve year old section. I haven't seen her since this morning, after Anerica went home I just wandered around for a while. But I now regret it, I never got a chance to give her one last hug before the reaping.
DONNIE LEIGHTON
My eyes open instantly when I hear her voice at the door. She's talking to my uncle at the moment. How long do I have to get ready? I quickly leap out of bed and splash cold water on my face. My eyes sting from waking so quickly and my brain is barely functioning. I pull myself together enough to change out of my pyjamas, but I don't quite manage socks yet. I'm only just in time when I hear her bounding down the hall. Avril bursts into my room - if I had woken up five minutes later she would've walked in to find me sleeping - and doesn't seem surprised that I'm up, which is strange.
"Hey, come on, cameron's waiting outside!" She smiles. I can't quite return it.
"But it's so early..." I complain, still wiping sleep from the corners if my eyes.
"Yes, well it's reaping day!" She says, so organised.
"Fine..." Reaping day is at least meant to bs a holiday, so why doesn't it start at five in the evening? I need my sleep! Reluctantly I follow her down the hall and out into the brought sunlight, which I shield my eyes from.
"You're such a dork!" She laughs, I scowl.
"I've only just woken up!"
"Whatever.." She says and we approach Cameron, my other best friend.
"Still tired?" Says Cameron, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes." I snap, I have even less patience with him.
"Reaping today." Cameron says awkwardly whilst bobbing his head. He knows how I feel but obviously has no idea that I'd rather avoid the subject. The whole district seems to know about my history, my hatred for the careers, but Cameron has sat through almost every one of my rants. I try to keep it away from my aunt and uncle, because the subject of Ric, my cousin, and also my mum, is painful for them too. Both of them were killed in the games by careers, my mother when she was eighteen and I was eighteen months, and Ric three years ago, when he was only fifteen. I still remember the look of horror on my aunt's face, the sadness behind my uncle's eyes.
"You've been training right?" Asks Cameron.
"Yes." I reply shortly, I don't really want them to know about it. Because since Ric's death I have been training slightly, turning old scrap metals into knives and swords, and practicing with them. I'm not planning on volunteering but if I am reaped...I want to be able to kill at least one of those careers. Hopefully a relative of one who took part in one of my family's murders. But then again, I'm sure the careers will give me a reason to hate them, whoever they are.
It's like Avril has been reading my mind, because she comments "You know, they aren't the same people that killed your family."
"I don't care. They're all scum." Avril's face drops at this, which I can't quite work out. I don't want to be the angry one, the one she's scared of.
"Anyway, we won't be reaped." I say, trying to lighten the mood but it just reminds me of a thought I've been trying to stick at the back of my mind. My aunt wouldn't let me take tessarae out after Ric's reaping, so my chances are fairly slim. Still, I wouldn't put it past the Capitol to rig the reaping so I'm reaped. A relation to an already dead tribute would make an exciting storyline, and excitement and entertainment are what the games run on.
CHARLOTTE RIVERS
Our escort is tiny. A small women with yellow hair. Everything about her screams capitol, her extreme hairstyle, the silver tattoos that decorate the space above her eyebrows, even her posture as she walks. Her fingers scrape around at the bottom of the girl's bowl. Is she enjoying this? It seems like it. I dislike her already.
"And the lucky girl tribute..." Her voice, is not just high pitched, but it sounds like she's imitating a small child with the squeaky and innocent tone. It is almost laughable. Well, it would be if I didn't know that it could be one of my paper slips that she has grasped between her fingers. She opens it. And I hear the scream before the name sinks in.
My first instinct is to run forward, tell Siary that it is okay, but nothing will ever be okay for her again. No, not when her last remaining sibling has just been reaped for the games. As I walk towards the stage, I already feel like I don't belong. I feel like a member of the audience, like I normally am. Pitying this girl who only has days left to live. It barely feels like it's me. Like I'm pretending some imaginary game to myself, it is another girl who has been sentenced to her death. Not me. Not me. Maybe if I say it enough it will come true.
But it doesn't. It is me. I stand rigid when the yellow-haired women puts her arms around my shoulders. I ignore her when she asks me questions. I ignore the boy when he tries to shake my hand.
America is my first guest. I hug her and she hugs me back, whilst we say nothing. There are no words, but plenty of tears. Just before the guard comes in to drag me out she whispers:
"You're the best friend I've ever had." This breaks me down completely. My cheeks are soaked with tears when Siary, my mother and father come through.
"I'm sorry Charlotte!" Cries Siary. My parents don't know what she's apologising for but I do. And I shrug it off. I would have done the same. "I'll miss you so much." She knows already that I'm not coming home. I know it too. My parents probably know it. The only way I'm coming home is in a small box, dead. Hopefully still in one piece. But still I have at least five days until I do, so I will work as hard as I can, maybe I can at least die fighting. The last thing they do before they leave is hand me something, small and rectangular. I don't even have to look to know what it is. Peter's letter.
DONNIE LEIGHTON
"Mhm. Well we better get going anyway." Says Avril, clearly sensing my unease. We walk side my side, our paces matched. I can't help but snatch a glance at Avril as we walk. Her face is knitted with a strange kind of frustration which I can't quite match up. Our walk is filled with silence because nobody knows what to we reach the square we register, and then fill our places. Some invisible cloud hangs above everyone's heads. We all know that put of this square, in a few weeks, at least one child will be dead. Gone. Never to return. And we're all hoping it's not someone we the girl is reaped, we're all scared by a high-pitched scream which pierces the thick fog of anxiety. Everyone looks in the twelve-year old section, but I know this name. No, not personally but by name I know Charlotte Rivers. She's in my year. Her face looks empty as she staggers to the stage. I can't help but be thankful that it wasn't Avril, although I hope it doesn't read on my it's the boys. With Ric dead, I only have Cameron to be scared for. And myself. I brace myself, my hands in fists, my fingernails cutting the skin of my palm.
Then my name is read out. Am I shocked? No. It feels like the waiting has finally cut out. Let's face it, the odds were never in my favour. I make my way to the stage, nodding like it's nothing. Nobody screams for me, but I see Avril, her face pale. But then I realise. This is not just a reaping, but an oppurtunity. An opportunity to avenge Ric's death. And I swear I'll try.
My room is filled with visitors twice. Firstly it's my aunt and uncle, who've effectively been my parents for my whole life. I look at my aunt, study her face. I'll be her third loss from the games. No I won't.
"I won't lose the games." I tell them. They don't reply. They can't. Especially my aunt, who has been in this room twice before, and probably heard the same thing. They each hug me and then leave. Is this the last time I will see them?
Then my friends enter, Avril and Cameron.
"Damn bro, this really sucks!" says Cameron, kicking one of the chairs angrily.
"Donnie...?" Says Avril, her voice wavering. "I wish... I wish..." she can't finish her sentence because she bursts into tears. I put my arms around her.
"It's okay..." I say, "Remember what they did to Ric. They won't do the same to me."
"Mhm." She says, wiping her eyes on my shoulder.
"Look man I can't even be here!" shouts Cameron, then he lowers his voice, "I've got to go. Good luck man." He awkwardly pats me on the back and then leaves the room, kicking the door on the way out.
"Donnie I wish you could stay." Whispers Avril into my t-shirt.
"I know," I say, kissing her on the forehead, trying not to be upset, but failing. "I'm coming home."
"You better." says Avril, lightly punching my chest.
"I will, Av."
"Look I've gotta go soon, I'm gonna miss you, I can't do this. You're my best friend."
"You too." I say, but still I lean down and kiss her. It's our first kiss, and it almost makes me forget everything.
"I'm sorry.." She says pulling away and sniffing, she heads towards the door and looks at me sadly, one last time. And after she's gone I want to shout, to kick the door like Cameron did, but I can't. All I can do is sit down in the corner and remember.
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.. Please remember to review!
