I'm from the Capitol.
I really shouldn't be friends with them, we were warned about it at training, don't get close to the Districts, and above all, don't get too close to the people who live there.
Well, I have.
What are they going to do about it?
Nothing. That's what they're going to do about it because they'll never find out about it.
I'm pretty certain of that.
Well, as certain as I can be.
I'm on my patrol at the moment, a little more peeved then I should be as they've changed all the routes. New management they told us.
I sigh and turn the corner into the square in the centre of town.
Oh shit…
A man is standing on the stage holding a whip.
But that's not what sickening me.
On the stage is a pole, where Gale's hands are tied to, his back a mess of blood and loose skin, hanging off like bacon. Beside him is a turkey, he was probably hunting then.
I need to do something, but my feet seem to have stuck to the floor.
No…
I can't just stand by and let this happen! He does this daily! And I'm pretty sure everyone here knows what he does, and it never does anyone any harm!
I can't just let them do this to him!
I stand there, dithering for what seems hours, while both his blood and life-blood are slowly dribbling across the stage and dripping slowly off, tainting the grey snow a murky pink, like a slightly cooked salmon.
I need to do something! I can't just stand here and let this guy kill Gale!
"No" I whisper, so quietly it's no wonder no-one hears me, let alone the man standing on the stage.
"No." I say more firmly, as my feet un-glue themselves from the floor, and I stumble forward. The man on the stage either doesn't hear me, or just ignores me. This makes me angrier, which makes me realise who I am, a Peacekeeper. I can stop them!
"No." I say, sternly, or at least, I try to say firmly. "He's had enough. Let him go now"
The man on the stage turns to me, and I think for a second he is going to stop.
I walk onto the stage, trying to avoid the stains of blood dotting the mahogany wood.
I get closer, and the smell, the stink of iron hits my nose, and it takes all my effort not to vomit on the stage.
I still don't know who the man whipping Gale is.
He considers me for a moment, andI move closer, I don't really understand why. My legs seem to be moving of their own accord.
I reach forward, perhaps to take the whip from his hand, perhaps to help Gale. I really don't know.
That's when the man reaches his decision.
He draws back his (humungous) arm and in one fluid movement, swings it towards my face.
Oh shi…