Turning Tables – Chapter 10
After being sold out of items at the hob, I make my way home once again. Gale offered to send the money over to the Justice Building to send over to the Capitol. I have a feeling in my mind that I need to ask my mother who this person is. Who wrote this note. I miss Prim so much. I hope Prim has survived while I have been gone to get her sponser money. Please help her to survive. Someone. Anyone.
When I arrive home, my mother is sitting in front of the television. As everyone in Panem is doing at the moment. Her eyes are glued to the screen. I follow her gaze. Prim is on camera. I quietly sit beside her and place my head on both my arms and watch. Watching ever so closely. Because of the fact that Prim is still alive.
"Still alive!" I say to myself. She's found refuge in a tall tree. But I watch closer as the camera zooms into her face. She looks...broken. Her hair is all a mess, mud covers every inch of her. Her face is almost unrecognisable. Oh Prim. She's been struggling. The only two things I can be glad about is the money we raised for her, and that she's still alive. But not well. Not alive and well. Just alive. I start to have tears stream down my face again. I can't bare to see her this broken. Never.
But there's one other thing I notice. She's crying, too. She sits there with her back against the trunk of the tree. I hope none of the other tributes are nearby. But I can tell she hasn't been in a fight. Yet. But, her face suddenly lights up. A package is coming down for her in a meduim-sized silver container, attached to a parachute. A gift from her sponsers. It's up to the Capitol sponsers to vote on what to give tributes. I wonder what helpful item she got. I haven't see that face in a while now. And it's because of me. And Gale, and Greasy Sae. The money we raised has gone towards this. Helping her survive. At least for as long as we can.
Gale once told me that money gets sent to the Capitol in a flash. Since it's lighter than people, you send it through a tube and it gets sorted into the collections for each tribute. Prim rips off the parachute and opens the box eagerly. Her lips form a smile. Packages of food, a bottle of clear, fresh water, and a empty bag. As she pulls the bag out, a small slip of paper falls out into her lap. 'Stay hangin. – Haymitch.' Haymitch is her mentor. Or was, anyway. Prim takes a few small sips and a few bits of dried fruits and nuts that came in the food packages. She says a small thank you up into the sky. What she doesn't know is that is where the camera is. So she's looking right at the camera as she says it. And I smile once again. Alot of smiles in one day. But no more. I guess that really is all we can do for her. I wish there could be more. More is better. But there was something we could do, and that was to gie her that food and water. But now, she'll have to fend for herself. I don't know how she'll cope, but I know she can do it.
I'm desperate for her to come home.