Author Note: Hello Everyone! I'm shooting my shot at a Hunger Games fanfiction with no games but I'm keeping the same general idea of Panem and the districts. I don't foresee this being an incredibly long fanfic but, we'll see where I decide to take things based on the type of reaction I get from all of you! Don't be afraid to review what you like, what you don't like, and where you might like to see it go. I love your opinions!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or its characters. Just my version of the story!
Chapter 1:
Everything is warmer out here. The way the sun beats against my skin, the vibrancy that surrounds me, and the feeling that overtakes me. The grass is still glistening with morning dew as it soaks my backside but, I'm not ready to move just yet. I need to absorb every opportunity for serenity before I'm forced to move back into a state of derealization. Out here, everything is real, and it all makes sense but, back in there, on the other side of the fence, nothing feels real. It is just a bunch of starving broken people pretending they are better than the next starving broken person in a way of life that we all created but nobody wants. There is no color in there like there is out here. Everything in there is dull, lifeless, two dimensional. Out here everything is bursting with life, potential, freedom. Maybe that's why we aren't allowed out here to begin with. If people could see a life outside of the artificial, they might dare to wake up and do something about it and we can't have that. That would be an uprising. That would be destruction. Then where would we be? In the rebirth of the ashes, who will clean up the ashes? What would be next? So, we all do what we do best. Survive.
I release a deep breath and slowly sit up, feeling my muscles scream in protest. It has been raining the past few days, so I haven't been able to hunt; therefore, I haven't had any food to eat or sell. We've been surviving solely off Prim's goat, which is also slowly starving to death, and the Capitol supply of grain and oil. They think they're doing us a favor by providing us a monthly allotment of tesserae for all of our "good work" in supporting the economy of Panem. We slave away in the mines dying young of black lung, exhaustion, and starvation, but at least they're warm in the Capitol. Our entire existence is to serve people who have never struggled a day in their lives, and we don't even have the time or energy to do anything about it. The system may be exploitive, but it works. For them anyway.
Gale was supposed to meet me here today, but I guess he picked up an extra shift at the mines because he's over an hour late. He's been working non-stop lately. Every time I see him now his eyes look dimmer. He has those Seam gray eyes but there's something different about them now. Is it possible to suck the color out of something virtually colorless? How much can they drain from him before there isn't anything left? He always sets his face into a hardness that he believes covers his vulnerability but the boy behind his eyes is shaking. He's afraid. None of us can fight off the child inside crying out for something we don't even understand.
Accepting the reality of the situation with Gale, I stand up and brush the dirt and grass from my pants and begin sinking deeper into the woods, grabbing my bow and arrows from the tree I hide them in as I go. The deeper I go, the quieter it gets. Prim asked me once if my thoughts grew louder in the silence. I looked at her funny at first but, overtime, I grew to understand what she was really asking me. The truth is, they do and they don't. In the silence I can evaluate my situation, our situation, for what it really is. There is no one around me telling me how to think or feel or exist. I, for the rarest of moments, have the opportunity to form my own thoughts and opinions. Realistically though, the moment I set foot on the other side of the fence I am no longer myself. It isn't safe to be. There isn't time to be. Even if I had the time to think of a better life inside the fence it's not like I could do or say anything about it. Not with the peacekeepers and the cameras and recording devices that are hidden all around District 12. They think we don't know about those, but we do. We're poor but that doesn't make us stupid. It just makes us tragic.
Fortunately, it seems as though the animals are also basking in the long-awaited sunshine after nearly a week of rain. I'm able to snag six squirrels, a couple of rabbits from the snares, and some wild birds. I'm packing away everything into my game bag when I spot a deer out of the corner of my eye. I haven't seen a deer in months. That could provide for my family for a week between the meat and the money I could make off what my family can't eat fast enough. I sink into the overgrown weeds around me and pull the bow back. As I release a breath to fire off my arrow, the deer looks into my direction. My eyes meet theirs, but they can't see me, that's the beauty of my position. The prey or the predator? Only one has the advantage over the other. I almost sympathize with it. What am I if not prey to those with the advantage over me? Do they hesitate before firing? I doubt it. So, I don't either. My arrow flies and the deer falls to the ground as it screams out, causing the birds to flee from the trees. I stalk over to it and it looks at me both an agony and in plea. I don't know if it understands I'm the one who shot it or if it thinks I might help or if it understands any of these things at all. I pull a knife out of my bag and quickly do what I need to do so it doesn't suffer any longer. Of course, it wasn't suffering before I put it in pain but I fight that thought off. Prey or predator. Eat or be eaten. That's what I tell myself to survive. Maybe they say the same thing in the Capitol.
Luckily, I brought my larger game bag because I was anticipating, or rather hoping, for a large haul. I am, however, unsure how I'm going to get everything back home. I can't carry a deer on my own and I still have other game as well. This is where Gale would really come in handy.
"And what exactly were you planning to do with that deer, Catnip?"
I look up and Gale is walking in my direction smiling.
"Well, I wasn't really thinking with my head, more so my stomach," I laugh. "Good thing you showed up because I was just wondering how on earth I was going to carry all of this on my own. If you help me carry it all I'll split it with you."
"You act like you weren't going to split with me anyway," he smirks.
"I would have split with Hazelle. At least she's on time to things."
He grabs at his heart in mock pain, "You wound me, Catnip."
"Shut up and help me with this thing."
After some struggle we've managed to balance the weight of the bag and after putting back my bow we make our way back to the fence.
"So, what happened to you this morning? I was laying out in the meadow for over an hour waiting for you."
"I picked up an early shift. Mom and Posy caught a cold from the rain, so she hasn't been able to take on work. Our window is broken and I haven't been able to fix it. Unfortunately, this means it's hot in our home during the day but freezing at night," he sighs.
His smile falters as he goes on about how he hasn't had the time and he can't afford to fix it without sacrificing something else from the family budget. I take this opportunity to look him over for any new signs of illness or strain. He's always been thin, but now his eyes are beginning to hallow out, his collar bones are jarring, and he truly just looks as though his soul has been shattered.
"Why don't you take the deer? I'll take the rest. You'll make a lot of money off the deer and it will be able to feed all of you."
He looks aggravated at my suggestion. "You shot it down, you should keep at least half. I'm not going to take it just because you feel sorry for me."
"Don't be an idiot, Gale. Family helps family. You would do the same for me and you know it." I lock my eyes firmly on his and set my jaw.
"Fine," he resigns. But he's not happy about it. I would have just dropped it off with Hazelle anyway.
Once we get back to his house, he takes the deer from me and two rabbits.
"I can't come with you to sell today. I have to go back to work."
"Again?
"You know me, a slave to the system," he laughs but it's empty.
"When will I see you again?"
"I'm not sure yet. If I don't see you, I'll have Rory tell Prim and she can tell you."
"Take care of yourself please," I beg.
"I always do."
I want to tell him that he never takes care of himself, only other people, but I don't.
My mother is sitting in a chair by the window when I get home. She's not looking at anything in particular, just the past. She seems to see it all so clearly sometimes, as though no time has passed at all. As if my father will come walking up the street at any moment, ready to embrace her. I can tell when she's not here with me in the present because she doesn't acknowledge my arrival. Her eyes never move. I'm not sure she blinks. If she blinks, she'll miss him. Her hands are clutching the same cup of water I gave her when I left this morning. The water inside remains untouched. Her knuckles are white in protest from holding on as tightly to that cup as she does to the memory of my father. The only way she'll let go of either is if I rip them from her forcefully. I'm not in the mood to do either of those things today.
"Prim?" I call.
"I'm in here!" She calls from the kitchen. She's making cheese at the stove when I walk in. I set the game bag on the table and start sorting what's for us and what's to sell.
"Good haul!" She smiles, eyes watering at the sight of the wild bird. She loves it the most, which is why I saved one for us. After saving what I think we need, I have one bird and four squirrels to sell which doesn't seem like a lot, but I know Mr. Mellark will overpay for them in coins and bread. He always does. I stopped fighting him on it a long time ago and came to rely on his generosity.
"I had a deer, but I gave that to the Hawthorne's to sell to fix their window."
"Oh yes, I had to take over some herbs to Hazelle today. They seem to be getting worse and I swear I overheard Rory sneezing. He wouldn't admit it and refused to take more herbs from me just in case. He's too proud to admit he might be sick, let alone take anything extra from me," she rolls her eyes.
Prim is not one to turn down generosity and cannot understand why any of us would. Prim sees the world through rose colored glasses. She believes that everyone is inherently good and that even the deepest of cracks can be filled. I've never had the heart to explain to her that shattered beings cannot be glued back together. If I were to take the time to explain that to her then she might start to see our mother for what she is; broken pieces, strewn about the floor, that we have to be careful not to step on and crush to dust. Mom needs Prim's belief system and I would never dare to change it. We are very different in so many ways and she is definitely the better of us. She is beautiful, intelligent, optimistic, spirited, and driven. The only trait we share is our stubbornness. She just uses hers for good.
"Has mom spoken to you today?" I ask. Clearly she didn't go with Prim to see Hazelle.
Prim doesn't say anything. Instead, she just shakes her head and stirs a little more aggressively. She never admits that it bothers her. I'm vocal enough for the two of us. Prim feels more deeply and she sympathizes with mom. I see it a different way. To me, mom is weak. She had a family she abandoned. Plenty of men have died down in those mines, Mr. Hawthorne for example, and plenty of women push forward just like Hazelle. It was mom's choice to abandon us for the memory of someone who no longer exists.
"I'm going to head to the Hob and then down to the Bakery to sell what's left, you'll be okay?" I ask her.
"Yeah. I'll go head and start on dinner while you're out so don't be too long."
"You remember how to prep the bird to cook?"
"You've showed me a million times, Katniss. I don't enjoy it, but I'll do it. Better to start now than wait until you get back. I'm starving." She laughs but it's literal. We're actually starving.
"Alright, I love you. I'll be back as soon as I can." I give her a kiss on the head and grab my bag as I head out the backdoor.
And that's it for now! I just want to gather interest in the story before I progress. I think what I'm going to do is a Katniss POV followed by a Peeta POV as the story progresses. Don't worry, I'll never repeat whole days just to get the opposite point of view. I hate when stories do that. What do you think? Let me know!