A/N: thanks to Emberlex for Nora and Dospacito for Axel!
Enjoy!
WARNING: THERE IS MENTIONS OF SUICIDE IN AXEL'S POV. IF THAT BOTHERS YOU, PM ME FOR A SUMMARY OF THE CHAPTER.
Chapter 11 – District 11 Reaping
Nora Caffler's POV
"Nora! Get in here!" Aunt Cary yells. "Quick!"
I waste no time dashing out of bed and down the stairs, my socked-feet making little pitter-patter sounds on the worn wooden steps as I make my charge for the kitchen.
I start clearing the table, taking the vase full of dying flowers and the napkins off like I've done it a thousand times before. In fact, I have.
Two large men slam down a wooden board on the table. But the board isn't what interests me—it's the girl laying on it.
Her back is shredded. The blood trickles onto the table, finding its way into the crevices where I will undoubtedly scrap it out later. I run over to the cabinet, grabbing our sparse medicine and handing them to Aunt Cary.
The girl splutters. I grab her hand as it tumbles off the table and squeeze it tight. I don't know her. I've never seen this girl before in my life. I don't know her name. I don't know what she did to deserve this, or if she even did deserve it. It's unlikely that she did.
"It's okay," I whisper, my voice low enough that only she can hear. This girl must have lots of pain tolerance, since she has yet to lose consciousness. I gently stroke her dark hair, trying to provide comfort for this girl. "I'm Nora. We're gonna help you."
I don't know if she hears me, or even understands what I'm saying. I've never been whipped, but I know there are rarely survivors, let alone a girl like this, maybe two years older than me.
"Nora, ice!" Aunt Cary yells. I spring up and cross the kitchen. We have a dedicated ice box for occasions like this. I don't even feel the cold that permeates my skin as I scoop up ice cubes and gingerly start placing them onto the girl's back.
One of the men who brought the girl in is kneeling beside her, his mouth moving like he is talking, but I can't make out the words. Tentatively, I approach him and touch his shoulder. "Is she your daughter?"
He looks back to me. "No. My niece." His head swivels back around, his eyes locking onto the girl's, now closed. "Her name is Camellia." He swallows thickly. "All this for a loaf of bread."
A loaf of bread. A single loaf of bread. This girl might die for a loaf of bread.
I suppose I should be used to it. This kind of thing is a regular occurrence here. Whippings are commonplace. No one hardly even bats an eye when the Peacekeepers drag someone onto the whipping post. No one cringes anymore when someone's screams are ringing through the air. It just… happens.
The whippings keep getting worse. So is the amount of food we have. Just to think, Camellia was whipped horribly for a loaf of bread. If she dies… her whole family might as well.
"Nora, bandages, quick!"
I snatch the bandages from the cabinet—we're running out, I hope we have enough money for more—and throw them across the room to Aunt Cary. Just as I turn back to Camellia and her uncle, I see my little sister, Laiya, peering into the doorway with her little stuffed rabbit held close to her chest. Quietly, I go over to her. "Laiya, you shouldn't be down here. You remember what Aunt Cary said."
She nods. "I just heard yelling. I had to come check it out."
I give her a small smile. "Come on, let's go back upstairs." I take Laiya's little hand in mine and guide her back upstairs and away from the voices in the kitchen. As we ascend the steps, the yelling gets louder. "She's lost too much blood—" "Her pulse is slowing—" "Quick, give me that—" "She's not breathing!"
I swallow and look down at Laiya. Tears are welling in her big, innocent eyes. "Nora?" she whispers. "Is the girl in the kitchen going to die?"
"Of course not," I say, as if saying it enough times will make it true. "She'll be fine. Like all of them."
"Oh," Laiya says. "Okay."
"NORA!" Aunt Cary yells from the kitchen. "Get down here!"
I hesitate for a moment before letting go of Laiya's hand and charging back downstairs. But by the time I reach the kitchen, Camellia is already dead.
It's not the first time we've lost a patient. Those people will stick with me until I join them.
The first one we ever lost that I really remember was four years ago. It was the first time I'd ever been allowed into the kitchen when Aunt Cary had a patient. It was a boy, probably around five years older than me now, who had been whipped even worse that Camellia. His name was Lark. He had a girlfriend. They were planning to get married when they both turned eighteen. His girlfriend had been there as he died, and the sound of her voice as his pulse stopped still haunts me today.
The second patient we lost was about a year after Lark. It was a woman in her early thirties, who was very sick. Aunt Cary didn't think it was terminal when we agreed to help her, but as it turned out… she left behind two small children, who had lost their father a year before that. I saw one of those kids get shot in the street, and the other starved to death shortly after.
I've seen people shot on sight. I've seen people whipped to death after stealing a single fruit out of a tree. I'd seen people fall to their death from a tree. I'd seen children as young as two-years-old starve in the streets, watched the life slowly ebb from their eyes until there was nothing left but a hollow body to bury. But I couldn't help those people. It's always the hardest when we fail to save someone. Someone who deserved to keep living, but couldn't, because we didn't have the necessary means to heal them.
Camellia's uncle and the other man who brought her in lift the board she was laying on, taking out to presumably bury her.
"Why weren't you down here, Nora?" Aunt Cary asks harshly once we have everything cleaned up. "We might have saved her." The regret, the remorse, the overwhelming feeling of failure is evident on her face.
"I was taking Laiya upstairs," I say softly.
"You could have just told her go back to bed," replies Aunt Cary.
"But I didn't," I say dejectedly. "I need to go get ready."
As I leave the room, the tension in the air is likely so thick you could cut a hole in it.
"Come on, Laiya," I call up the stairs. "Let's get ready for the Reaping." I slowly head upstairs and enter the room Laiya and I share. I quickly start getting dressed for the Reaping.
"Where did the girl in the kitchen go?" Laiya asks.
"Oh, um," I say awkwardly. "She went home."
"She's alright, though?"
"Oh, yes," I reply, running a brush through my long, chestnut colored hair. "Her name was, um, I mean, is Camellia."
"That's a nice name," Laiya says conversationally.
I nod slowly. "We need to leave," I say quickly in an effort to take the topic away from the girl who died in our kitchen.
Laiya, to her part, doesn't argue. She just obediently follows me outside to the Reaping.
District 11's escort, a very bubbly woman named Esmeralda Cantos, who true to her name, has emerald colored skin, eyes, hair… really, emerald colored everything. "Oh, hello, District 11! I didn't see you there!" She laughs boisterously, jumping right into the rest of her speech like we all laughed too. "Now, let's watch our special video!"
The video about the rebellion plays. I wonder if it is the same one they showed way back when the games first started, one hundred and fifty years ago.
"Now, let's choose our female tribute to compete in the one hundred and fiftieth annual Hunger Games!" Esmeralda cries, strutting over to the girls' bowl. She dips in a hand ceremoniously, her fingers dancing indecisively. Finally, she plucks up a paper, heading back to the microphone. When she opens the slip, I can see that some of her green skin dye has rubbed off onto the card.
Esmeralda clears her throat. "Nora Caffler!"
A feeling of cold dread washes over me. My breathing turns shallow, and I look around wildly. Run? Escape? Just go to the stage? Option three… most safe now… least safe in the long run.
I stagger toward the stage, letting the Peacekeepers place me up beside Esmeralda.
I survey the audience, the whole of 11. This the last time I'll ever see it. I need to remember every single detail. I need to remember what Laiya looks like. So when I'm dead, and I see my parents, I can tell them about us. I can tell them I was okay. I can tell them that the Capitol is responsible for my death.
Axel Douglas Kohan's POV
I still remember when I found his body.
He was hanging from the ceiling, rope around his neck, completely still. I had gone into our room in search of him, actually, and you could say that I found him.
It had only been two months since Dack failed to save Autumn. It was only four months ago that I found Dack's body.
People often say that grief gets better with time. But four months have passed, and the ache in my chest is just as fresh as when I saw Autumn loose her footing up high in that fruit tree, when I found Dack dead in our room. I used to say I didn't understand why Dack killed himself, but I suppose I do now. He had been just below Autumn when she fell, and almost caught her. He almost saved her. He almost saved our entire family dynamic.
I shake my head violently. These thoughts in my head need to go away. I'll never get anywhere in life if I can't stop thinking about Dack and Autumn. The past is in the past.
I watch Esmeralda Cantos sauntering around the stage before the Reaping begins, squawking and squeaking like some strange, green, featherless bird. I snort at the thought. The Reapings would be much more entertaining if the escorts were random birds. They could have seagulls in District 4, and woodpeckers in 7, and parrots in 1, and canaries in 12! Then, at least, the mood would be lightened considerably.
As I stand with the other twelve-year-old boys, most of them close to tears with nervousness, I can't help but roll my eyes, laughing inwardly at their frayed nerves. Well, guess what, idiots? I'm going to save all of your sorry asses.
I've been thinking about it for a while. The idea first came to mind when they announced the Quell twist. It makes more sense if I volunteer now. The Cappies will think I have the skills to win, or are trying to save a family member and think I'm all noble and all that crap.
No, I just don't want to live anymore.
Esmeralda picks a girl named Nora as the female tribute. She looks very nervous. I wonder if maybe she will be the one to win. I doubt it. She doesn't look like she has the guts to go all in.
The large, green, featherless bird goes over to the boys' bowl. She picks a name much quicker than she did with the girls and heads back to microphone.
"Yarrow Paulso—"
"I volunteer!"
The ripple of audible gasps go out across the square. I walk confidently toward the stage and stand beside Esmeralda. I shake hands with Nora, then they drag us off to the Justice Building.
I sit in the goodbye, expecting my parents to come say goodbye. But they don't.
I clench my fist around the wheat necklace in my pocket. Mom won't miss it. And when my body comes home, she'll have it back. I just hope she won't have to wash it.
Nora Caffler's POV
"Oh, Nora!" Aunt Cary exclaims, enveloping me in a big hug. "I'm so sorry I was mad at you. You were doing everything you could! Now you have to do everything you can to win these Games."
"How can I?" I ask, a slight hysterical edge to my voice. "What am I supposed to do? I can't win the Hunger Games!"
"Auntie Cary," Laiya said innocently. "Nora is going to the Hunger Games?"
"Yes," Aunt Cary says sadly. "Yes, she is."
"Will you come back?" Laiya asks, her head cocked to the side like a confused dog.
"Um, maybe," I reply. "I might go live with Camellia. You know, the girl from the kitchen. I think we could, um, be good friends."
"Oh," Laiya says, her little brow furrowing. "Will you come visit?"
"I don't think I can," I reply. "But, um, maybe. I'll see." I kneel down in front of her and gently kiss her forehead. "I love you, okay, Laiya?"
"I love you too," Laiya replies. She holds out her stuffed, hot pink rabbit. "Will you take Snumbus with you?"
"Oh, Lai, I couldn't," I say, pushing the bunny back toward her.
"Have it!" Laiya insists. Finally, I take the rabbit. It's hot pink, with long floppy legs, arms and ears. It's eyes are bright green and two different sizes. "His name is Snumbus. Take care of Snumbus!"
I laugh quietly, despite the circumstances. "I will. No harm with befall him while he is in my care."
"Okay!" Laiya says. She kisses me on the cheek. "I love you, Nora! I hope you and Snumbus have fun with Camellia!" She waves to me as they leave the room.
Finally, one more person comes into the room. Tanner. My only friend. We met in the fields a few years ago, and have been close ever since.
"Hey, you got this, Nor," he says with a firm nod of his head. He looks down to the rabbit in my hand. "Oh, is that from your sister? I was gonna give you something else, but you should take that."
I nod. "Thanks for coming to see me, Tanner."
"I wouldn't miss it," Tanner replies. "not for the world."
All I do is smile.
"I'm gonna miss you so much, Nor," Tanner continues. "You gotta win." He looks back to the rabbit. "So you can give that back to your sister. I bet she'll want it."
"They give the tokens back, Tanner," I say. "She'll get it back either way."
"Yeah, but she won't get you back," Tanner replies. "And your aunt! What will your aunt do without you?"
"She'll get by," I say. "She got by just fine without me and Laiya. It'll just be one less mouth to feed."
"Don't think like that, Nora," Tanner exclaims. "How are you ever gonna win if you already sound like you've given up?"
"I'm not going to win, Tanner!" I cry. "I don't know the first thing about fighting, and I can't even help Aunt Cary save someone else's life! Who's to say I shouldn't just give up now?"
"I am!" Tanner yells. "I'm not letting you go so easily, Nora!"
The Peacekeepers open the door and call for Tanner to leave. As soon as the door closes, I sink onto the couch, sobbing, holding Snumbus close to my chest like Laiya used to.
A/N: only one more Reaping to go! I'm thinking of having a party when I finish with them all. Anyone want to come?
What do you guys think of Nora? Of Axel? Do you think either will win?
-Amanda
