Disclaimer: I still don't, and never will, own the Hunger Games.
Everything was black; I couldn't move a muscle. The last conscious thought that I had control of was about how glad I was that I slipped into vulnerability in the cover of the mangroves. Then memories started to come.
I was four years old. My brother w\as taking me through the square. He had money in his hand, his birthday money. In his other hand was my small toddler arm. He was allowed to buy whatever he wanted with his money, I had begged him if I could go with him to look at the shops and help him pick his gift. He had smiled and said I could. Never once in my life did he tell me I couldn't follow.
We walked by the candy shop, my favorite store. I yanked my toddler arm out of the grip of my brother's hand and ventured through the snow and brisk, chilly air to the window. He soon followed once he realized what I was doing, and was looking at the window from behind me. I was gazing at a jar filled with lollipops. I had never had one before, and the one in the window was a shiny red color. "Do you want that? I can get one for both of us." Hayven had asked; his voice filled with patience once he noticed my gaze locked on the sugary treat. My face lit up with delight and I nodded.
Hayven smiled, took my hand and led me through the door. A blast of warmth greeted us on the inside. Hayven was lost in the myriad of color that the candy shop had to offer, but soon resumed what he came to do. He went to the jar that held the lollipops. He took out two and handed them to the store owner. That's when he learned that he only had enough money for one. After very little scrutinizing, he decided what he was to do. He put the other one back, and handed over the money.
Once outside, he unwrapped the plastic of the one lollipop he could afford, and handed it to me. A smile still on his face, but a certain sadness in his eyes. Being four, I took the candy without any hesitation. He then took my hand and led me back home. I skipped the whole way there. He had spent his birthday money on me. I never did have the chance to repay him for that.
That was the happiest memory I had at my young age. I still remember the cherry taste of the lollipop that Hayven had given me. I had almost forgotten that memory, lost into the abyss known as my mind. I guess the venom of the bug drew it out of my subconscious brain. I had what seemed to be less than a second before the next memory came to me.
I had just turned five. Hayven and I were playing tag with a group of his friends. Hayven was it. I was running down the brick pathway of the street. At least as close as you can come to a street in the districts. I turned around to see if I was being chased. Hayven was right behind me, and he was gaining fast. I started to move faster. That's when I tripped over my own foot.
I skidded along the path, my knees and elbows grinding against the street. At first I was dazed, then the stinging pain hit. I burst out crying. Hayven ran up to me, knelt down, and looked at my arms and legs. He picked me up and carried me the half-mile distance to our home. Once there he placed me on the worn couch. Once he assured himself I wouldn't die in his absence, he ran into the kitchen to get my mother.
My mother came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her flour covered apron. She was followed by a worried looking Hayven. Her eyes watered when she saw me hurt. She ordered Hayven to get some wet cloths. Hayven left the room. My mother walked up to me, and started to brush back my hair with her hand, comforting me, telling me I was going to be all right. I was still sniffling
Hayven returned and my mother gently washed off my cuts. Hayven paced impatiently behind her, occasionally having to answer the door, to tell annoyed friends that the game was off because I was hurt. Once she washed all of the dirt away, she wrapped my knees and elbows in cloth. Hayven left. I started to count how long he was away. Ten minutes later, when he came back, he had a bundle of blue flowers in his hand. He gave it to me, then led me to my room, so I could lie down.
Once Hayven had led me to my room he had sung me a lullaby. He was an amazing singer, one of the few boys who would dare to do so in public. His voice was soft, like a cloud. Or at least I think so. My thoughts are hazy. The only clarity in my head is from my memories, which I was going to return to soon.
I was five, almost six. It was the first day of school. I was nervous, and it was all I could do not to show it. My mother had wished me and Hayven off. He was the one that took me to school. Along the way, he had joked around, trying to lift the fearful thoughts that were playing again and again in my head. Once we go there, he walked me to my first class, regardless of the snickers of his fellow classmates. He made sure that I sat in the front. I asked him to wait with me until the teacher came. He rolled his eyes sarcastically and agreed.
The rusty old bell sounded the start of class. The teacher walked in and saw him. "Hello, Hayven. Is this your little sister?"
"Yes, Mrs. Kari." Hayven replied in a formal tone. "I have to get to my class now. It was nice to see you again." He gave me a hug, nodded Mrs. Kari goodbye, and then left.
He left the room and went to his classroom. The boy that sat next to me, Quill I think his name was, smiled and said hello. I just nodded in response. I was too shy to talk to anyone without Hayven. The bell rang once more and the class settled down. The teacher walked to the front of the room and wrote her name on the board, along with a sentence.
"Hello, class. My name is Mrs. Kari. Can every one say 'Hello, Mrs. Kari'?"
"Hello, Mrs. Kari." The class chanted in unison.
"Very good, now can anyone tell me what this sentence says?" She points to the board. No one raises their hand. "No one? How about you, Hayven's little sister?" The class giggled at the teachers reference to me.
I looked at the board nervously. Hayven had taught me some letters and numbers, I knew how to read some words, but this was…different. I swallowed, and tried to pronounce what might as well been a foreign language. "Um…We-well-welcome to skewl." The class giggles again. Mrs. Kari smiled pleasantly.
"Very close, it says 'Welcome to school'. Good try, though. And class, we don't laugh at others. I doubt that most of you could read that either. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mrs. Kari." The class chanted in embarrassment. I didn't join the response.
"Good, now I want you to take out your math notebooks and work on the additives of one."
Hayven walked me to school every day. He always made sure I sat in the front of the class. Once he died, I started to sit in the back. I stopped talking to the teachers, and they stopped talking to me. I was no longer Hayven's little sister. I was Glynn for one of the first times in my life.
I was six and a half. It was Hayven's birthday, December 13th. He was turning twelve. The number that I considered to be the source of all misery. He needed to go to the Town Hall and register his name for the reaping. I was scared that he wouldn't come back. I begged to go with him. He took me along with him. As always.
The walk to the town hall was filled with silence. Neither of us even tried to make a conversation. Once we made it to the Town Hall, we paused out front. As if we waited, something incredible might happen. Nothing did, so we had to enter the scariest building in town. I was surprised when I walked through the doorway. The Town Hall looked as it always did. I had expected it to turn into a dungeon, with skulls and weapons hanging on the wall, and dead people lying in puddles of blood on the ground. Hayven walked to the front desk. I couldn't see over the top. Hayven was barely able to."Today is my birthday."
The attendant looked down from the book she was reading. "Congrats, kid what do you want, a piece of candy? Because I don't have any." She looked back down at her book.
Hayven shook his head. Come on Hayven, let's run, they forgot, I had thought in my head. "Today is my twelfth birthday." A shiver ran down my spine as that sentence was spoken.
The attendant looked back up with renewed interest. "Oh. That sucks for you. Here, sign your name here. If you need to take the tessera, then sign your name that many more times." She handed Hayven a clipboard. I looked and saw that it had the names of other twelve-year-olds on it. Hayven signed his name once. He handed back the clipboard.
The attendant took it. "Good luck, kid. You're going to need it." Hayven nodded and then left. I followed close behind. We didn't talk on the way back either.
I was more scared when I went with Hayven than when I went by myself. I guess I knew what to expect by then. Nothing seemed to matter at that point anyways.
I was eight. I looked out the window. Rain was pouring down hard. A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, closely followed by a roar of thunder. I screamed and bolted under the couch. I huddled there in a ball for ten minutes. Then I saw a head appear on the ground. "What are you doing under there?" Hayven asked.
"I'm scared. It's lightning. It's raining really hard." The fear was present in my voice.
"So what are you so scared about?"
My brow crunched together in frustration. "I don't know, I just am."
Hayven laughs. "Nothing to fear but fear itself."
A quizzical look grows on my face. "What?"
"Oh, nothing. Just something I heard in school. Now come out of there; don't worry, I'll protect you from the rain and lightning." I come out from under the couch and sit on the floor.
"How can you protect me?" I ask skeptically.
"Oh, well you see, the lightning is actually a knight, using his sword to hit the ground, to make sparks. He is trying to cheer up a little princess, much like yourself, by putting on a light show. She must be upset about something. Do you know what?" I take up a while to think an answer.
I cup my hand around my ear as if I were listening to someone tell me a secret. "Yes. She told me that her canary died. It would sing her to sleep. She loved it an awful lot."
"What was the canary's name?" Asked Hayven, smiling now that he knew that I would play along with his game.
"Heaven."
We sat like that on the floor; telling the story of the princess and the knight for an hour. We made up ways that the knight would try to cheer her up with, and her reaction to each. Then the rain stopped. There was a pitter-pat of water dripping down from the roof. Hayven looked out the window to investigate.
"It looks like the knight finally cheered up the princess. How did he do that?"
"He got her a new canary. But he sang her to sleep. That was what really made her stop." Hayven smiled.
"Like this?" and he started to sing me a lullaby.
I still remember the story of the knight and the princess. It was the stupidest and most childish story I had ever heard. I still told it to myself when it was thundering and lightning.
I was nine. Tears had soaked my face. I was in front of my parents, ready to run through the door once it was opened. The peacekeepers let me and my parents though the door. Hayven was sitting on a couch in the back corner of the room I sprinted forward and wrapped my arms around his neck. My parents stood frozen by the door. "I don't want you to go Hayven." I cried.
"I know, Glynn, I know." Hayven said that surprisingly calm, he was stroking my hair as I sat next to him on the chair, arms still constricting him.
"You're going to come back, right?" I look up to him, eyes wide in fear of what the answer might be. Of what the answer could be.
"Of course he is coming back. He is a smart boy. He'll make it. What a stupid question." My father said from behind me. My mother broke into tears; she buried her head into my father's shirt, muttering in soft wails, my poor, poor, baby boy.
Hayven, who had turned to face my father, returned his attention to me and answered my question. Staring me straight in the eye, he said in a whisper, "I'll try my hardest. I swear to it." The Peacekeepers came in and ushered us out. As they led us out the door I cried. I yelled back to him one more time.
"I love you Hayven!" I screeched, my voice cracking from fear.
"As do I, Glynn."
Don't forget what you said."
"I promise I won't." He then mustered up a smile, I tried to do the same, but I couldn't. The Peacekeepers slammed the door in my face. I never saw him cry. The whole time at the Capitol, not one tear escaped from his face. Never once was any of his sorrow captured on television. I wish I were strong like him.
My father didn't cry. My mother wept bucketfuls. I was confused. I didn't know whether to be sad or not. That was one of my most painful memories.
The day after Hayven's death. My father was handing me my backpack. I took it and lifelessly shrugged it onto my shoulders. I wiped a tear from my already red, puffy face. I had been crying all night. Now it was time to face the other children at school.
"I don't want to go to school though. Can't you tell them that I'm sick?" I beg my father for what seems like the tenth time.
"No. You need to go to school. I'm sure that your teachers know what happened. They shouldn't ask you to talk. You need to make sure to get your education. I'm going to the carpentry shop today." I will never understand how he can work through the worst events.
"Where is Mom?" I ask. She would let me stay home. She would understand.
"She just needed some time alone. She will be back." Just then there was a knock on the door. I went to go answer it. When I opened it, I was shocked to see the head Peacekeeper stand in front of me. My father came to stand behind me. For the first time in my life, I felt cornered.
"What can we do to assist you today?" My father asks. His tone letting no emotion escape.
"This is the family of Ellien Sail. I am here to inform you with the lamentable news that her body was found in the Meadow this morning. The cause of death was pneumonia." I let out a wail. My father nods and shuts the door. He still makes me go to school. The only problem with what the peacekeeper said was that it was the middle of summer.
The day in school was the worst I had ever experienced. People kept coming up to me, saying they were sorry, and asking if they could do anything for me. Normally, this would be pretty cool. It is just whenever people offer to do that, you just want to be alone.
I just turned ten. I wake up screaming in the middle of the night. A cold sweat lines my face. I run to my father's room and shake him awake. After three minutes, he starts to come to his senses. "Wha? What wrong?" says my father, rubbing his eyes of any remaining sleep.
"I had a nightmare." I said, eyes wide.
"Again? This is starting to get ridiculous." He grumbled the last part under his breath.
"I keep seeing him dying. Sometimes I'm with him in the arena. Sometimes I die too." My father sighed.
"I can't do anything about the nightmares. I can build you another bed and put it in my room though. So you don't have to wake me up in the middle of the night." I nod, hesitate a bit, but head back to my room. When I get back to sleep, I plummet into my nightmare again.
I'm standing on the platform. I'm surrounded by a desert. Next to me is Hayven. He has his eyes on a sword sixty yards in. The gong rings. Hayven sprints in. I'm close on his heels. He grabs the sword. The boy that I now knew as Glitch's brother intercepted him.
I saw the spear enter Hayven's chest all over again. I was soon to follow. I bolted out of bed. A glint of light shun threw my window. I had made it until morning.
I heard a canon fire. It wasn't in my memory though.
Hiya! I'm posting two chapters today! (Don't get your hopes up, this is the second.) Sorry about not being able to post in forever, but my dad was trying to fix our printer and in the process he killed the internet. Seriously, that only happens me. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. It was pouring rain when I wrote it. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review :D Oh, and I looked it up, Australian release date for Catching Fire is Oct. 1st. I think. :D