Rooker Hilt, 13, District Twelve Male, Two Months Before the Reaping
Warning: Profanity in Rooker's Intro
X
"Give me food!"
I yell it to no one in particular. The whole street is full of those rich merchant scum, some even with potbellies. Nobody cares.
"Assholes!"
I haven't eaten in two days, and these sorry people don't care. They're just like everyone else in the world: Useless, dumb, idiots.
My broken ribs poke out of my skin, and every breath causes me pain.
I kick a pebble in frustration. By a fluke it hits a burly boy passing by me. He picks it up and lobs it back at my head. I dodge.
"What the hell was that for?!" I ask him.
"You tell me, starveling!"
"Asshole!"
I pick up the pebble and throw it at his face. It his him in the collar. He looks mutinous, but I stand my ground as he stalks towards me, showing him the finger.
"Now listen here, you little shit!" he yells in my face as he throws me against the wall and brings back his right arm. "Never!" Punch. "Mess!" Punch. "With!" Punch. "Me!" Punch.
I fall to the ground and taste blood in my mouth. My nose is throbbing.
"Asshole," I call out weakly as he walks away, and I'm left to heave myself back to my house.
On the way, a boy steps on me. I trip him in receipt. He stomps on my face.
I return home with a bloody nose and head and bruises all over myself. Ma gives me one more for getting blood all over the carpet. Like Pa doesn't do that every other night to one of us. She tosses a fork at my head as I crawl to the kitchen.
Why does the world have to be this fucking stupid? Why does everyone here have to be scum of the earth?
I've contemplated ending it myself a few times, but never been brave enough. I don't think anyone would care, though.
God, this shit is painful. Every breath feels like I have knives in my stomach, my face is throbbing my back stings and something gravel-like feels lodged there.
They'll pay for this. All of them. I don't care who I punish.
X
At the schoolyard the next day, I pull out a knife and threaten to butcher the enormous boy from the candy shop. The bullies hear, and as they prowl towards me I chuck the knife at one of them. It sails yards away from the shoulder of the one closest to it, past the gate, and into the sewage river beyond it that goes underground.
"Come on and take me, shrimps! Five of you couldn't take me, you fucking shitcakes!"
They're all larger than me, and taller than me, and faster than me in my injured state.
The largest and fastest of the bunch punches me to the ground. I try to trip him, but it only results in a bruised wrist for me. They beat me down to the ground with their punches and their kicks and their stopped, and as they leave the candy shop boy spits on me.
"Go on ahead, fuckers!"
Ma doesn't care about this, either. She makes me wash the carpet down before I can even tend to myself. We don't have any bandages, so I'm forced to use my blanket to staunch the blood pouring from my mouth.
I think that there might be internal bleeding.
I don't care, because nobody fucking cares. Nobody gives a damn about me.
This is a cruel, horrible world full of shitheads and jerks and assholes and bullies galore. The world itself is one big, gigantic asshole. The only way Ican try to survive is to be one too.
X
Marvel Silver, 18, District One Male, One Month Before the Reaping
"Oh, Marvel, I'm so proud of you!" Mother runs forth to hug me, pat me on my back. "You'll do amazing in that arena!"
Always the same behavior. As if we're all at one continuous, never ending gala where everyone must be cordial while they whisper cruel, fake rumors behind the back of the one the rumor centers around. It's actually been surprisingly helpful. I had to learn from somebody.
Mex runs forth and squeezes me, her thin frame against my toned one. "Marvel, good job! You're so strong, I knew you could do it." She looks into my eyes, and her happiness falters for a second in place of concern.
"We must have a celebration," Mother says. "I'll tell Cook to make cognac."
Mother bustles off to the kitchens.
"What is it you want?" I ask my sister. I've always been good a reading people.
"To talk… right now, while we are alone."
I pass her on my way to the couch of the living room.
"This is about-
"I know what this is about, Mex." My sister never trained for the Games, always Mommy's little budding socialite. "I know that you think you have to do this because of Lux, but-
"I do have do this. You don't understand."
"Marvel, I understand! He was my brother, too! And I don't want to lose both of you!" Her eyes begin to fill with tears the way I taught myself never to let happen to me five years ago. "Marvel, I know you only want revenge, but it's pointless. The Two boy and the Four girl who did this to him didn't survive. You would be killing people who had nothing to do with this. You would be killing innocent people who didn't volunteer for the stupid Hunger Games!"
Me and Mex have always known of each other's darkest sides, the sides that neither of us dare to express to others. I want revenge. I want to torture them all. On the way here I ripped the wings off of an injured bird. Mex doesn't like the Games, the complete opposite of my mother. But we love each other anyways.
"Marvel, you think I don't know about when you slit your wrist in the bathroom? I'm the one who cleaned that up, Marvel, so no one else would know!"
"Mex, this is my life, I can do what I want with it-
"Marvel! You can't die… I can't l-l-lose y-you."
She pulls me to her chest and weeps into my front. She knows that she can't stop me from entering the Hunger Games.
Mex readies herself. "Just promise me this:"
"What?"
"You won't let yourself die. Fight."
"I will."
Just then Mother bustles in.
"What is it, Mex? Tears of pride and joy? I told you never to give in to such silly things as those."
But not even Mex can see into my mind. Revenge. That is all I can dwell on, all I can think about, before I lose my will to live. I need to show them all never to mess with a Silver. I don't care if I have to kill every person in that arena. But of course, I would never kill them myself. No, I'm not strong enough or that. But I am smart enough.
The cognac is fine, Mother doesn't know it, but I'm not much of a fan. It's a good thing she gives food connoisseur work to Mex, I've never been much up to it.
I look over to her. She looks like she has little appetite.
While Mother rambles on about generic rumors about the Mayor's wife and the Head Peacekeeper, I lean over to Mex and whisper in her ear:
"I'm not strong enough to kill them all. But I can get them all to kill each other."
She looks back at me and nods. She is worried, but she is also confident in me.
I don't know how confident I am in myself, and I don't know if that will matter. Confidence never has provided much use for me. I was confident in Lux, and he ended up in a measly eighth place when he could have won, he was easily the strongest tribute in that arena.
That all goes to tell you that strength is never what truly matters in the Hunger Games. It's wit, intelligence, and above all, manipulation.
And that is what I am best at.
As for my will to live after my job is done… I don't know. I don't think many would care. Yes, I would like to bring honor to District One, but I don't know if I would have a lot of interest in life after the careers, and the girl from District Four especially, are put in their graves.
I take a sip of my cognac on the rocks.
Just like it, revenge is a dish best served cold.
X
Raihan Everstow, 12, District Ten Male, One Month Prior to the Reaping
"Raihan, come on, let's feed the animals!"
"Okay, okay, Wyola, I'm coming," I say, finishing polishing off the dishes after breakfast.
Wyola reaches up with her stubby little arms to tug me outside into the damp morning air. On the stairs she almost trips, but I pull her back up to safety.
The animals are still lazy after their long rest. I prefer them later in the day, when they're playful. It's horrible they'll all have to die someday soon, except Dozer, since he's a dog. Daddy says it's our job to give them a nice life before they get shipped off to the slaughterhouses. Wyola has no idea, she's only five. We just tell her the animals get sent to a bigger farm down the road.
Wyola feeds the chicken while throw some more slop into the trough. As we finish up, Noello rolls up on us in his wheelchair.
"Hellooo!"
"Nello!" Wyola says as she runs up to hop into his lap. She can't pronounce his name yet.
"Hey, Noel," I say as I run up to him. "What brings you here?"
"Bored," he answers curtly. "Home isn't very lively. Here, on the other hand…"
He tickles Wyola's stomach, and she laughs raucously and squirms.
Noello really is the coolest. Even though he's in a wheelchair, he can still play princesses and dragons with us, and he can do all other sorts of things that I can't. He's also the smartest boy in school, he's in tenth grade even though he's only thirteen. He also saved Wyola's life a year ago… all the blood… like when Mommy died…
I don't like to think about that.
"Can we play princesses and dragons?" Wyola asks.
"Of course," we respond.
It's fun playing like this, with Noello and Wyola. They're two of my favorite people in the world. Wyola always gets saved by Dozer, who plays the prince, and me and Noello are the dragons.
Really, I don't understand why people are always so sad. There's a lot of good things in this world, things that outshine all of the bad ones.
X
Later, once Wyola is down for her midday nap, Noello and I go on a walk, or I guess a roll more like in Noello's case, since I push him in the wheelchair. For a while we just enjoy the scenery. I've lived here since I was a baby and this farm has never gotten old. Then, Noello says something I don't quite comprehend.
"So, how do you think you'll fare if you get reaped and sent into the arena?"
There's a pause.
"I thought it was called the Hunger Games."
Noello sighs and facepalms. "The arena is where they send the poor saps who get Reaped."
"Oh… I guess I've never really thought about what goes on in the Hunger Games, just that one kid lives while all of the others go to Heaven." That makes me wonder: What does happen? How do all of those poor children die? Before I had just unconsciously guessed it was some sort of race to a finish line or something and the first one there won.
Noello looks up at me. "You mean your father has never told you more than that?"
"Yeah."
"But isn't there mandatory viewing?"
"Daddy never made us watch it, and the men in white never came around to check."
"Well it's time you know."
Noello looks to be pondering what to say.
"Well tell me, Noello."
"Okay. So twenty four of you are Reaped. You all go to the Capital, and there you're all prettied up and trained to go into war. You get interviewed, have a parade, yadda, yadda, yadda. Then you go in the arena. It's usually a forest, or some mountains, or a big castle or mansions or something like that. Some years it's different, like a big playground or a sewer system or something like that. There are weapons, and at the beginning everyone runs to grab them and kill each other. Everyone just tries to survive. The last one alive wins."
This is overwhelming. "But I though the Capital was good."
Noello lets out a derisive laugh. "You thought wrong, bud."
This is horrible. What if I get Reaped? I don't want to die. Nobody wants to die!
I start to cry, first because I'm overwhelmed, and then because of all the children that have died in the past, and then at the thought of me, put in the arena. And all of the blood. The blood that took Mommy.
"Hey, hey, bud, stop crying." Noello lays at hand on my head. Only now do I realize that I've stopped pushing the wheelchair. "I didn't mean to make you that upset.
"No, no, it's okay. You were right to tell me. It's just hard to think that the world can be so cruel."
"The world isn't just cruelty, Raihan. There a way more good things than not. And, if you face bad things, you just gotta be brave, like me."
I look down at Noello. "Yes, I want to be brave, just like you! But I'm not! When Wyola was attacked by that crazy dog, I just sat there and had a stupid panic attack while you saved her."
"Raihan… you're brave. I've seen you stand up to bullies I was too afraid to face. To bullies that were bullying me. That's stupid, but brave."
"Thanks, Noello."
We spend the rest of the walk in silence, up until the house is in sight, and Wyola's tiny frame can be seen through the screen door waving.
"One more thing," I say. "How come kids from District Ten never come home?"
"They do. It's just the bullies in the arena, the careers."
The word is foreign to me, but I excuse it. Wyola is running to us now, and I can sens another round of princesses and dragons. Despite what I just heard, I have a fun rest of the day, for Wyola's sake, and Noello's, and mine.
X
"Daddy," I ask him when he is tucking me in. "How do I be brave like Noello?"
Daddy looks at me. "Raihan, you are brave. You just have to believe that you are, and summon up all of the strength in your heart."
"Okay." I nod.
I can be brave, I can be. I just have to be like Noello. I can make the world a better place than it already is. I believe it.
X
A/n: Hello readers, I hope this was a read-worthy and enjoyable chapter! Please give all of your thoughts in the reviews, give me negative feedback and positive feedback, this is a journey of improvement as a writer for me. A big thanks to Nautics for submitting Rooker and Marvel, and to Bribooks13 for submitting Raihan. I know Rooker's POV was a bit short, but I just felt like it was right for him and there wasn't much else I felt I needed to convey. Now, onto the questions of the chapter:
How do you predict these three will interact with each other and other characters? I'll give you a hint, two are close to characters that are coming up next chapter, and those are Arlo from District Two, Konani from Five, and Nerissa from Three.
What is the name of Marvel's sister?
Remember, please review once again, and have a nice day!
-Mills