Orla Ferraris
District 4 Female, 17
District 4 Justice Building
I'm still fuming, even as I am ushered into a clean room with a tiny couch and a swivelling chair in the middle. I keep pacing, as my heart races at a thousand miles per hour, my hands twitching ever so slightly. I know the little boy whose name I already forgot is in a room identical to mine. I can't focus, I'm just so fucking angry.
My parents are both cowards. Brent might act nice and approachable, but in the end, they're both just huge liars and I got played my entire life. That's the realization that hurts the most. The fact that the people who should have taken care of me my entire life were sidelined, and instead these two people who claimed to love me, to care for me…. just kept lying and lying until I had to do something this drastic. It's too bad for the people who stand in my way, I know I'll win these Hunger Games. Still, it didn't have to be this way, if people were just honest with me for once in my life. If my supposed parents didn't hide things under pretenses, pretexts and layers upon layers of bullshit.
Duncan and Brent enter the room simultaneously, Duncan's hand is on Brent's lower back, stabilizing, and it makes me even angrier. They were both in on this. We already started this argument, and this is just the culmination of it all.
I give them one hard look and keep pacing, largely ignoring their presence.
"Why the hell did you do that? You couldn't wait to come home and talk it out with us? You just had to throw your life away to prove a point?" Duncan starts until I shoot him a glare that makes him shut up.
"Are you really this selfish, Orla?" Eventually, anyways.
"We've raised you properly, we've done everything we could for you, and this is how you repay us?"
I glare harder.
He finally stops talking, waiting for me to grace him with an answer, obviously.
I ignore him, instead sitting down into the only chair available. I don't want to sit on the couch because I don't want to give them both the chance to encircle me, to trap me with their disgusting emotions and reasoning and pseudo-care. I want nothing to do with them right now.
"This might be our last time together, stop being petulant," Duncan counters my silence, anger tinting his smooth and deep voice.
I swivel around to shout at him, looking him directly in my eyes. I've had enough of him patronizing me for something I had every right to do, especially considering the circumstances.
"You LIED to me. You've been lying to me all this time! HOW COULD YOU?" I scream, aware of how childish it sounds and not caring in the slightest. I decide to keep going, while the rage is still boiling over.
"I knew I never belonged, but you never told me to what extent. You are both cowards. I hate you, and when I win, I will have my house in the Victor's Village all to myself. I'll surround myself with people who actually care about me. Who don't lie to me about my past."
Both of my fathers stand near the doorway, looking shell-shocked. Duncan slightly less heartbroken than Brent. It's always like that, with Duncan. Brent was always my favorite dad, because of that. Not-dad, I have to remind myself. They're looking at me as though I'm the one being unreasonable here, and it is driving me insane. How can they not see that it's their lies and hidden secrets that drove me to a breaking point?
"I-I mean….I mean…" I stutter, at a loss of words, which isn't a common occurrence.
"You're not even my real biological parents!" I decide on finally, screaming loud and clear.
"No, really? What clued you in?" Duncan asks, sarcasm tinting his tone.
I stomp all the way to where they both stand, like two dumb birds cocking their heads almost in synchrony. I don't like the tone he's using, I'm not stupid. I'm not fucking stupid, that's why I found the evidence in the first place.
"You know what? You're not allowed to be snarky with me right now. I'm leaving, I'll come back, and you'll have time to figure out how to explain this mess to me. Or, what's more likely to happen is that I'll discover the mystery of what the hell is going on myself," I ramble on, searching through my pockets to find the evidence to truly punctuate my point by tipping over the already-overflowing vase.
I feel the ripped edges of the paper in my pocket and yank it out, thrusting the faded photograph into my parents' faces. Not-parents, I have to remind myself.
"This…this is what I'm talking about! You knew. YOU KNEW ALL THIS TIME AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME!" I scream at the top of my lungs, tears of anger finally escaping my eyes. They didn't fall last time when we had this argument, when I found the photograph and confronted Brent and Duncan about it. My not-dads.
I found it at the very bottom of Duncan's drawer, underneath an array of files, lists and journals. I can't exactly recall why I was rummaging in the first place, not that it was important. I just saw this photograph featuring a couple, one man and one woman smiling wickedly at each other. I traced their faces with my fingers, and something inside me just came into its own. These two people, who were they? I kept asking myself, as I deciphered their tattoos, memorized the dozens of piercings on their ears and faces, the colour of the man's wildly extravagant hair. As I looked over and over the inscription on the woman's hat which read "Officer General, Capitol 260704". They looked so confident, so sure of themselves. They had the same slanted dark eyes and the woman bore the straight black hair I have, while both Brent and Duncan lacked these specific features. That's when I knew, deep down inside.
When I had seen this photograph, by god almighty did I feel betrayed, my heart had stopped.
Somehow, right now was so much worse. I had confronted them about it, asking who these people were. Turns out my real parents died fighting for the Capitol, a side demonized by most people in my dumb district, including the people I had been calling my parents ever since I can remember. Duncan and Brent hadn't even tried apologizing either, they only tried talking me down like I was some sort of low-breed dog they could tame with praise and promises. Brent had assured me they were going to tell me eventually when the time was right, but I thought and still truly believe in my heart that these lying sons of bitches would have never told me anything. If I hadn't shown a bit of initiative, I would have never unearthed my past, so tightly kept under wraps. I would have never known why this feeling of not-belonging threatened to destroy me on my worst days.
"You're not my real parents and I'm going to the Capitol to know about the people who were supposed to raise me. People with whom I truly belong," I add resolutely, shaking the photograph for effect.
Brent flinches away and hugs Duncan, his expression heartbroken and disappointed, while the latter looks like he could strangle me right about now.
He advances on me, trying to rip the photograph out of my hands. He doesn't succeed, he's only got one hand free right now and I'm too fast for him. I'm too skilled for him, and I haven't even trained yet. Imagine what could be accomplished once I got access to the training facilities before the Games. That idea gives my anger a small respite, even as Duncan just seems to get more pissed off by the second.
"I can't believe I've called you dad all this time," I start again, but Brent interrupts, his voice shaking.
"Because we are your dads, Orla, baby, why can't you understand? We love you more than anything."
I scoff.
"Sure. Just like Tanisha did, before she denigrated me, insulted me about my choice to volunteer."
Once again, Brent physically cringes as Duncan keeps him close, almost as though he is afraid his husband will collapse without the support.
"Baby, Orla. Tanisha did no such thing. She told me afterwards that you punched her, honey. You never gave us the chance to talk about that incident but …she didn't mean to insult you, she just wanted to get your approval. She didn't know this meant so much to you."
I cross my arms.
"I don't care. She said I was a fucking nut job. I'm not stupid and I'm not a nut job."
I can see Duncan roll his eyes and prepare myself to verbally attack him again, even as Brent disentangles from his arms and tentatively approaches me. I see tears in his eyes and all I can feel is deep-seated repulsion and pity.
"I know you're not a nut job Orla, but you can't just punch people. Especially not your friends."
"She's not my friend anymore. She was just a side-kick that was too much of a loser and I helped her become everything she never could have been without my help. And then she went and insulted me, and that's when she crossed a line," I say simply. I still bear the marks from when I punched her a few days ago. My hand was throbbing, yes, but that's when I knew I was made for these Games. I had that violence inside of me.
It was right after I found the photograph, too. I had stormed out of my house, brought a few items so I can sleep over at Tanisha's. Ever since we became friends, she let me stay over whenever I needed to escape my household. She wasn't the brightest, but she suited me just fine, right up until that point. Before settling for the night, I expressly told her that I didn't want to talk about anything. Not about my fight with my fake-parents, not about the test I had just flunked because she hadn't moved her arm like I asked her, so I could steal a glance on her answers to confirm. I didn't want to discuss anything, I just wanted sleep.
Instead of just staying quiet, of realizing I wasn't in a talkative mood, she still insisted on chattering and stammering and annoying the living shit out of me. I mean, I guess I have her to thank for finally pushing me to make this leap. I was destined to volunteer for the Games, but her comment about what kind of people volunteer and the way it made my heart sting from hurt and betrayal is what truly cemented my decision.
That's why I leapt on stage, even as the escort called out another girl's name. That's why I utterly and completely disregarded our Victor's warning stare, even as I took the microphone and succinctly clarified that I was indeed the chosen tribute, that Quinn-whatever-her-stupid-name-was could go to hell because I got to the stage first. Again, I don't need to repeat myself, I'm not stupid, I know something was up between Quinn and Mags, but I didn't know what all these looks had meant and I utterly did not care.
It was a culmination of little things these past few weeks that caused this.
I snap back to reality, just as Brent puts his hand on my shoulder.
"We chose you, Orla, because you were special. You were always our baby daughter, and we love you so much," Brent whispers, even as I flinch away out of his grasp, staggering a little bit.
"If you loved me, you would have told me the truth about my heritage," I elaborate.
Duncan explodes.
"Why is your heritage so important to you, anyways? You're just a dumb seventeen-year-old who just made the worst mistake of her goddamn life and are going to pay for it! We know how influenceable you are, we didn't want you having a melodramatic episode like you always fu-sorry, freaking do."
I open my mouth, partly because I'm surprised at how savage his verbal blows are, and partly because I want to retort, but Duncan cuts me off.
"You were an orphan, we adopted you, end of the story. End of the fucking story, Orla. And now you're pretending like your issues, your deep-seated …. issues are because of us? I always wanted you to grow up Orla, to see how things really are."
He pauses, and bitterly adds, "Now, you'll never have the chance."
"That's exactly why I'm leaving. You never had any faith in me, you never believed in me. I was never your flesh and blood, and you didn't care enough to tell me the truth. Goodbye, fathers," I finish, adopting a poisonous tone for that last word that rolls off my tongue like acid.
Brent tries to approach me again.
"Orla, we only have a few more minutes, together- "
I cut him off, because I'm frankly tired of everyone's disregard for my patience.
"If you'll excuse me, I am certain I have other people waiting to see me, and I have nothing else to say to you. Goodbye."
I practically slam the door in their faces.
I know it seems harsh, even for me, but it's the truth. Either way, when I come back, they'll have time to cool off and we can maybe start interacting civilly again.
I stop pacing because as quickly as my anger surfaced, it recedes and leaves behind only clarity. I wait for the next visitor, probably Tanisha. Or maybe Ricotta and Jane, from school. Perhaps even my teachers, Sandra and Coral. That's why I quickly escorted my not-parents out of the room, right? Because I thought I'd have quite a bit of people coming to see me?
Is that what I thought? I question myself, even as the silence becomes unsettling.
Surely, my volunteering has earned me some bravery points, and the girl I volunteered for can at least have the decency to come say thank you.
I wait, and there's no one.
I don't really care, they were probably all just processing what had happened, and I'd receive compensation for that during the Games. They'll probably rally together and raise money for me, since, let's be real, that little shrimp of a district partner won't be making waves.
The Peacekeepers come to fetch me, and I stand up proudly, keeping my head up high, even as I exit the room. I see commotion at the other end of the hall, a small animal being kicked by a huge Peacekeeper and the little boy, the shrimp, struggling in his arms.
What a pathetic spectacle, I think to myself, and my guard seems to agree with me. He boards me on the train, and I nod, silently thanking him for the courtesy. He doesn't seem to notice but as I've mentioned, I don't really care. I can get by without the constant attention of some pathetic Peacekeeper for whom it is an honour to escort the likes of me on a train.
When I win the Games, I can already imagine him regaling his family with stories of how he helped Orla Ferraris board the train that led her to her Victory. He'd even maybe come to the Victor's village, to ask for a photograph, but I've already forgotten his face, let alone his name.
I see my district partner being ushered in, and a sad little child waving at him from the other side of the train, his or her red hair waving in the wind.
Squint? Score? I forget his name. I decide on calling him shrimp, for now, at least in my head.
Shrimp is looking horrified and I almost scoff at him, before remembering that now is not the time to be antagonistic. There will be a ton of time for that in the arena.
He looks at me, his eyes welling with tears. I'm surprised, because it doesn't look like any of them have spilled over. That's interesting for someone who looks twelve or thirteen years old. They're usually the criers.
I try to strike up conversation.
"So, is anyone going to miss you back home?"
"Yeah," he replies sheepishly.
"So was that your girlfriend with the red hair, waving at you? Boyfriend?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"No, they're uh…they're my best friend. They're not a girl or a boy, they're non-binary, I guess," he explains and I'm already pretty bored.
"Cool. Cool cool cool," I repeat, drumming my fingers on the window edge, just as the train springs to life, the engines revving. I heard the Capitol will be investing in newer cleaner technology for our railway system, since pollution is part of why the old world crumbled. I don't really know. It's just something I remember Tanisha saying. Not that I mind or care. If they want to create faster and more efficient machines, it's fine by me, but this one is already top-notch.
I see Mags enter, and immediately stand up.
"Hi," I venture. "I'm Orla Ferraris, and I'm seventeen."
Mags doesn't look happy, but she doesn't look particularly upset, so I take that as a good sign.
"Yeah I know, heard it from your volunteering."
Her reply rubs me the wrong way, though, but I swallow my pride.
"Mhm…so I was thinking, maybe we can start immediately talking strategy, and if uh….he wants to participate, we can do that too."
Mags stares at me, and drags her hand over her face. If I didn't know any better, I'd think it's in exasperation.
"Hold up for just one minute. This is Scout, he's thirteen, and he will be participating in making the decisions with the two of us, for what we're focusing on. Second, why did you volunteer, exactly?"
I pause. I have my own motivations and I don't really want to be wasting my time talking them over, because, hello, we've got strategy to think of and I also need to find time to start buttering up the escort to help me with my quest for finding out the identity of my parents…
But Mags won this contest once, so I should listen to her. Answer her truthfully, because I need to stay on her good side.
"I volunteered because I wanted to find out more about my parents. My real parents, from the Capitol. They fought the rebels, apparently. I also wanted to show my friends I could do it and that I wasn't crazy. I know I can win," I conclude confidently.
"Okay. Uh…I guess that's a good reason," Mags responds, but her face says otherwise.
"I guess you weren't in on the fact that I already had a trained volunteer set up for this gig?" she elaborates.
"No, I didn't. I guess that's what Quinn was so upset about. Don't worry about her Mags, she's harmless and I can do more damage than she can," I console her.
"Sure. Considering she's trained for the past year and a half. But I'm guessing you have something more to offer," the older woman says, leaning in towards me and narrowing her eyes. I don't like how closely she resembles Duncan right this second, so I become defensive.
"Excuse me, I've fought before, and you'll see when we start training, I'll probably have the most skills out of all of the Careers!"
With that, I storm away because I am tired of Mags' judgemental bullshit, the teary-eyed expression Shrimp-Scout-whatever seems to permanently wear on his tiny little stupid face and the whining of the engines as we speed away from District 4.
I bump into our escort, and politely ask where my room is.
"Your room is on the left, right near my own," he responds, smiling politely back. Now here's one reasonable human being I can connect with.
"Thank you," I answer sweetly, just as I close my door and take in my surroundings. Time to get to figuring out this mystery with my parents, all the while ensuring my survival.
I have a feeling it'll go smoothly.
Notes: Orla from District 4 everybody! I don't think I've ever written anyone this delusional. Like ever. That being said, this is going to be fun! Let me know what you thought of her.
Since I wrote all of the inner districts, do you have any idea on whether or not the Careers will be a thing this year? Will Mags successfully push for D4 to join the alliance or will her tributes (I'm looking at you Orla, because Scout doesn't really have a chance, does he) be rejected once again? Can Orla's superiority complex get any more annoying?
Thank you to everyone reviewing. Let's bump up that number even higher, I crave reviews! Next up, District 5 which is going to bring on its own set of shenanigans.
Peace and love.