Chapter 7: A Story

Guys, I've been pretty busy, so sorry for not updating. But I will finish this story one way or another.

I'm awake, fully, and all I can think about is what happened yesterday. I felt nearly helpless. I've only felt like that once before, when my mother was taken away by the Capitol.

I was eight years old. It was a cold winter night, the wind blowing hard, seeping in through my coat and undershirt, chilling my bones and turning me into an icicle. I had gone out to buy a few pieces of meat from the butcher (with the money that we actually had back then), picking my way carefully back home. Then I heard my mother scream. I ran as fast as I could, knowing, just knowing, that something bad had happened. I got there just in time to see a squad of Peacekeepers haul her away, kicking and screaming. I ran after her, yelling for her. She told me to stay, and I did. I never saw her again. Nothing. I can barely remember what she looked like.

But I snap the thought from my mind, and close my eyes, feeling the cool wind on my face, focusing my ears to pick up any sort of sound in the distance. I lay down on my back, beside Harmony, who's deep in sleep, and look up at the stars. The moon hides behind some clouds, but comes out moments later to shine fully. I get up, pull out my sword from where I stuck it in the ground, and walk around, swinging it from side to side, cutting down the dense grass. I cut down an area separate from the campsite, and sit cross-legged on the hard ground. No fatalities today. I daydream about going home, what it might be like to be a victor, having all the money you need, enough food to last you your entire life. But then I'd be all alone. Except for Claire, but it just wouldn't be the same.

Then I have no idea what I'm going to do. If I die, and Harmony lives, then he'll be a victor to his own district, and then everything will be back to the way it was. With the Capitol ignoring us, and praising and showering the district that won with gifts and money and food. And our district would keep losing people to starvation. Like always. That's one thing that makes me mad. The Capitol has everything, electronics, food, clothes that aren't made of old rags, everything that we don't have. They ignore the poor districts, and drool over the rich ones. But I'm also glad that the Capitol ignores us. It could be a lot worse. Like District 11. I hear from some of the Peacekeepers that the Capitol has District 11 under lock and key. But it is a large district, so maybe they have to keep the reigns tight, so that it doesn't slip away completely. Anyway, I still hate the Capitol for leaving us to suffer. But maybe Harmony wouldn't move on. Maybe it would kill him that I was gone. Maybe he'd drown in his own sorrow. It twists my heart to even think of it. But what if we both died? Would we be free? Would the Capitol still rule even in death? No. Death is the only place where the districts can be free. Away from the Capitol's grip, free to do what we please.

"Why do you hate us so much?" I whisper, secretly to the Capitol, because for sure they have cameras watching me. I don't get an answer, but I already know it. The Capitol is self-centered, pampered brats. Why should they care about something that is beneath their notice? Someday, someday, maybe there will be peace. Maybe there will be no Capitol in the future. When everyone gets along and no more Hunger Games. No harsh winters that make people keel over. I throw myself down on my back and watch the sky.

I'm brought back to reality when I notice the soft pastel colors lighting up the sky. Dawn? Already? How long have I been sitting here? And I'm also jerked back by the sound of a cannon. Guess we'll find out who it was tonight. There can't be many of us left. I count on my fingers. Ten. Or, nine, now. The grass parts and Harmony sticks his head through.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"Yeah. Just thinking," I answer.

"I seem to be doing more of that myself lately," he says. He sits on his knees beside me and I lay my head on his shoulder, watching the sun slowly rise.