Here is chapter four! Enjoy! :)
The games are starting again and 23 people will be murdered for entertainment. The battle against the Capitol my parents fought in has not yet been won. Their physical and mental injuries have been for nothing. Innocent people are going to die. There is a chance that Rye and I might be thrown in the arena with them and there can only be one victor.
Our parents, the star-crossed lovers who won the 74th Hunger Games, will now be the mentors for District 12. Maybe to their own children. They have fought so hard to have this not happen again. They fought so hard to make sure not only fearing for their own children being thrown in the arena, but also everyone's children.
Rye and I could ultimately be fighting to our deaths. Could I kill my own brother? No, I would rather kill myself. Could he kill me? Why are they starting this up again? I might be dead within the next month. Rye might die within the next month. What was the point of the Rebellion if the Capitol was going to be throwing back into the arena once more almost twenty five years later? Is it because it would have been a Quarter Quell? If it is, then they're planning something drastic.
"Willow? Willow?!" My mother's voice tries to break through to me, but my thoughts are too overwhelming. She's panicking and it reminds me of the time where my brother and I were playing hide-and-go-seek and he couldn't find me because I fell asleep in a bush. He was taking too long and I fell asleep from the comfort of the smell of dirt and the coolness of the shade. Mom's voice woke me up and I still feel guilty for scaring her.
My lungs feel heavy and my throat is lodged with my heart that is pumping too fast for me to catch up to it.
"Rosey, come back," my dad's voice also tries to break through the surface of my thoughts drowning me. Dad always knows what to say to save Mom and me from the violating thoughts that try to keep us forever; Mom is always taken from the past and I am stolen by the future.
The Hunger Games are being brought back and my brother and I might possibly be fighting to the death with 22 other people who are most likely going to be our lifelong friends.
I might being fighting to the death with my twin brother who is my best friend.
I shouldn't be going through a panic attack. I haven't been through anything traumatic like my parents. I should be comforting them and trying to break the seal of their overbearing thoughts.
The heavy breathing coming from my lips finally reached my ears, and I know I'm resurfacing. Panic attacks are also, I guess, something I inherited while Rye did not. Rarely do I have them, but they are frequent enough to where my parents aren't too startled by them anymore.
"Rye, can you get her some water?" I hear our dad's voice ask. Rye's footsteps walk away into the kitchen and I hear the rush of water into a cup.
Finally, my vision comes back to me and I realize that I've collapse and my parents are kneeling in front of me. They are obviously worried with their wide eyes, scrunched eyebrows, and lips forming thin lines. Rye looks helpless while he stands in the doorway with glass of water.
"I'm sorry. I don't…" I shake my head to clear out more of the fuzziness the panic attack brought, but it still feels cloudy.
"It's okay; don't be sorry."
"Are Rye and I going into the arena?"
Dad shakes his head, "We don't know, Willow. All we do know is that the Games are starting again."
Rye speaks up, "We have to stop it."
I almost want to reply in a sarcastic manner, but I bite my tongue and hold out my hand instead so he can pass me the glass of water. My stomach feels as if it wants to regurgitate everything it has consumed today, but I drink the water anyway; I know my body is dehydrated which most likely contributed in my blacking out.
"We will try our hardest to stop it, but the Capitol will be expecting us to leave our districts to fight back. Transportation is going to be practically impossible," Mom replies, "Their protection and defense is most likely impenetrable. Unless we already have people in the Capitol."
"Rebels are going to be sent back to their home districts. Anyone who had anything to do with the destruction of the Hunger Games are going to be kicked out," Dad replies.
I want to scream and cry and maybe laugh at how ridiculous this all is. This has to be a dream or at least a joke, right? There is no way the Capitol wants another Hunger Games. Are there going to be riots and another rebellion? Is the second rebellion the cause of all of this?
"It's revenge," I reply dryly as I suddenly think of it, "They want to get back at whoever destroyed their precious entertainment."
"We don't know you two are going in or not, Willow, but we will exercise every medium as possible to allow no one entering the arena."
"There is a very high chance that we are."
We don't need to speak about them having a 100 percent chance that they are going to be mentoring. They don't need that reminded.
There is silence from there on out as my parents help me to stand again to return home. We are finished with whatever is to be done here and returning home is the best option. My family and I silently decide that it would be best to hide together in the comfort and security of our house and wait for the jurisdiction of whoever is going to enter the death enclosure with cameras.
A few hours later, we find ourselves huddled in each other's arms waiting for the announcement. My parents are not going in a third time; the Capitol knows people won't want to see Victors fight to the death again. I don't think they have enough Victors still alive to do so, and it's already been done. They need something new and exciting.
They country's emblem pops up with the national song. Shivers ripple through my body. The new emblem they created has the Mockingjay with a bow and arrow behind it. What a great smack in the face for the Rebellion. I could almost feel the confusion of Panem wondering why is sending out a message.
The Rebellion knows, though.
My mom's face is ashen, and I know she feels like throwing up. She went through Hell and back, and it is starting right up again. Both of my parents went through a lot of shit, and I can only imagine how they feel or what they're thinking at this moment.
The Mockingjay emblem fades away and into President Morgan's face with her bright, white smile with her blonde hair loosely flowing against her shoulders and blue eyes alert and nervous. There is a slight fraction of time where she looks nervous, but it fades to her usual confidence. Maybe it is my eyes playing tricks on me; I could have been the only one to have seen that. I quickly glance at the other three, but they show no evidence of witnessing the same thing I did.
"People of Panem, the Capitol and I have a very important announcement. Twenty-five years ago we had a certain group of people who destroyed something that was very important to our culture. The Hunger Games. Today, we are here to announce that we will have our fourth Quarter Quell this year since this year marks what would have been one hundred years of our annual festivities."
My whole family and I are all holding our breaths in blinding anticipation. I want her to just spit it out already.
I have a feeling that there are a lot of infuriated and enraged people becoming more irate by the second.
"Of course a Quarter Quell has a very special and different criteria. The last three Quells have been, for example, voting for whomever will fight, doubling the amount of people entering the arena, and finally the Victors re-entering the Games. This year will be no different in bringing something exciting." She is handed a white envelope, and she carefully slides out the card with her perfectly manicured hand. The card she possesses holds the future of so many people.
Now, I feel like the bile wanting to escape my throat and my heart is thumping strongly against my chest.
"The ones who will be pooled into the group of citizens that will fight in the arena will be," she takes a silent gulp as she reads from the card, "will be the children of the previous Hunger Games victors. Age will be thirteen and up; there will be no maximum age limit."
My mother lets out a strangled cry as she covers her mouth with one of her hands. My father holds onto her other hand with dear life. My brother and I cling to one another as we did in our mother's womb.
President Morgan then looks back towards the camera and she shakily says, "May the odds be ever in your favor."
The T.V. screen goes back to the Capitol emblem with the Mockingjay to remind us that the fighting was worthless. That we will never been safe and they have all the power.
Rye and I are going into the arena against each other and against our friends from other districts. We will be battling to the death against our parents' friends.
Our parents are going to have to mentor us and watch either one of their children be murdered. Or both of them.