Callia Lily Redwood, District Six
The District Six Square is unusually crowded and unusually quiet. I don't even know why we're all here-it's not a major Games event, at least not a planned one, and both the girl tribute and Garett are-
I burst out into a few sobs. Brock places his arm around my shoulders and leads me to the back of the square. "You have to stay strong, Callia. Garett would want you to stay strong." My husband wipes a single tear from his eye. It's so easy for him to stand strong. But me, I've been hysterical for the past week. Ever since my only son...
"Shh, Callia, shh. It's alright. You'll move on."
"But-"
"Shush!" This time it's not Brock's comforting lullaby voice, but a harsher sound, a bitter young man whom I never have seen in my life. Of course he doesn't know. Of course he doesn't understand...
My brain is so jumbled, I can't believe the Peacekeepers haven't just shot me already. I'm no more use to the district. Borck runs his fingers through my hair and turns towards the large screen set up specifically to broadcast the Games.
Day five. There's been a lull, especially for a Quarter Quell, especially for Games so short already. The wolf-mutts, they haven't killed anyone yet. Though they gnawed off the hand of the Killer-Boy from One.
Garett liked wolves. Normal wolves. He saw pictures of them in school and said he wanted one to take care of, to bring home-
Don't think of him. Move on.
The Killers go off hunting. The girl who killed the girl who killed Garett smiles. The boy from Four stays behind, looking bored. There's a sort of tension in the air. More children are going to get killed today.
More children who have mothers who will die inside just like me...
The cameras follow the Killers into the woods. The fog thickens. The music swells. Someone is going to die.
It is early morning. The birds sing. A knife is raised, a sword is followed as an example. I don't care who raises them. All I know is that today killers turn on killers.
The girl from One is knifed, the boy from One decapitated. Just like Garett.
I screech. I can't move on. Everything is swirling out of reality, into a horrible nightmare fantasy where talking heads roll on the ground. I've never been stable, but this is just too much.
Move on! Callia! Do something! Do anything! Move on!
Cannon. Cannon. The Killer-Girl from Four unleashes her rage on the Killer-Boy from Two. Cannon. The girls from Two and Four face off. No more decapitation this time; a knife is thrown from the trees. The boy from Twelve is here. Cannon.
Four deaths. Four grieving mothers, maybe a few who are broken beyond compare. They tell us to move on. We will never be able to move on.
Because we have already died.
Not my best, not by a long shot, but I had to get it out there. The district reflections are a seperate chapter, next chapter.