Oh, hi. Here's the next chapter, have it all to yourselves and enjoy~
Thank you to Remus98, MidnightRaven323, Sophia, writer12122121 (you troll, I can write those numbers faster now XD), Santiago, Alec, Sarah, cloudy5, MetallicShadow10, xxbookwormmockingjayxx and the Guest for giving me your amazing reviews! All of your comments have been duly noted. Thanks to everyone who have favourited and followed as well. :)
I'm so sorry that I forgot to thank Sarah, MidnightRaven323, cloudy5 and Nate, for Austin, Lenore, Nova and Parker last chapter! It completely slipped my mind, so I'm sorry about that! On that note, thank you to Everlasting Impression, Nrrd-Grrl-Meg, KittyMae98, and MetallicShadow10 for Aisha, Geoni, Cassia, and Barric! :D
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form. All rights go to their respective owners.
"Your perspective on life comes from the cage you were held captive in." ~Shannon L. Alder
Aisha Cain, Eighteen, District Four Female
They told me that revenge would be sweet.
I've always had to be the one who laid low, living her life and working as hard as I could, only to have someone that always bested me. I was strong and talented, not without my flaws of course, but I was up there, near the top. I could have been the one to beat them all, this year's volunteer; an honour that many fight for. I fell just short of it, losing out to my own twin. Obviously, there always had to be someone who was better than me, someone who fought with the grace of a bird and stung like a vicious wasp. I was almost the best, but I forgot that Nyah, my perfect sister, was the obvious choice for this year's competitor.
Jealous is not something I wanted to be. Nyah and I…we could have been perfect sisters together, always laughing and happy with friends and finally settling down with someone we loved. But life doesn't work like that. Sometimes, happy endings don't exist. I've always been compared to Nyah. I've always had to live in her shadow, the twin that was never quite perfect, the undesired twin, the unwanted twin. The one that my parents would sell off to a man for a healthy amount of money.
That's all my parents care about. Money. Money for them to roll around in and consume…coins and notes, cheques and bills, it all goes into their pockets. They had two daughters, two twins, one for the Hunger Games, and one to sell off like some kind of prostitute. I do see their reasoning. Money can bring security and the supposed "happiness" that people are looking for these days.
I wanted to be the twin that volunteered. I wanted it so badly that I knew I'd do anything to get where I wanted to be. After a lifetime of being second best, I used to ask myself if it was worth it anymore. But I knew it was. I needed to succeed. And I did.
All it took was some powdered fireroot in Nyah's morning cup of tea.
It was the perfect plan. The root would have weakened Nyah, ready for the choosing day. All I would have had to do was fight her and win. With my victory, would come my ability to volunteer. But my plan worked too well. Nyah was bedridden for days. Even I got worried when she started bleeding, staining her sheets and coughing violently. I never foresaw that she'd come to me, a few days later, weeping and sobbing like a child. Because that's what I did. I killed her child, the one brewing inside of her.
Now I'm conflicted.
I'm this year's volunteer, but only because I killed my sister's baby to get here. I feel guilty, and it's something that I know will hang around me for quite some time. But there's another feeling that reigns over my guilt; satisfaction. All of my life, I've been underestimated and unappreciated, and now it's my time to step up. It's my challenge, my need to prove myself in this world. It feels good. It feels good to finally have the opportunity to be valued more than second-best for once. With Nyah out of the equation, I was chosen as this year's volunteer. I know it seems stupid for me to want this so badly, to risk my life for glory, but it's something I have to do. I have to show myself that I can do this, that I'm better than a good for nothing, second-best twin.
I sigh to myself as I flick throwing stars into the neck of a dummy. Atlanta, quiet as usual, stays silent by my side. She's followed me around for a while now, and she's the closest person I could call a friend. I've never been good at making friends, and what friends I have are more out of convenience rather than anything else. I scan my surroundings, taking in some of the other trainees. Some look at me with intense disgust, while one or two send me a sharp nod.
I smirk slightly. I'm not the most popular girl around here; that was Nyah's role. I don't like all the joking and making friends for no reason. People tend not to like me because I cut them down for their lies or failures. Some trainees are a little too big-headed, too involved in themselves in some ways, so much that I cringe at them. Training isn't about how arrogant or how much of an asshole you can be. You're learning to fight and defend yourself, either for the Games or just for fun. I laid that out for all to see, silencing the idiots and respecting the trainees that did it right.
People hate me because they're wrong, and they don't want to admit it, but I don't care. There are some that understand, that respect me for focussing on what matters.
What matters right now is winning this thing.
Maybe for once, I'll prove myself worthy. Maybe for once, I'll show my parents that I'm more than a stupid price tag. Maybe I can really be the person I've always wanted to be. All I have to do is take action and volunteer as planned. I'm ready for this. I've trained for this. I stand a chance at winning.
There's no greater pleasure than how happy I am now. I've finally become my own person, and I'm noticed for it. I've broken free from my sister's shadow to shine on my own.
I've finally done it.
And all it took was a bitter cup of tea.
Geoni Proctor, Thirteen, District Six Male
"Hey, Jana, can you pass me that hammer?" I ask my friend, pointing a small finger at the miniature hammer in my toolbox.
"Sure!" Jana chirps, her green eyes searching for the instrument we need. "We need that to recalibrate the angular intermission between plates, correct?"
"Yes," I agree. "And we need to retighten the screws with an Alan Key again. Every time we readjust those plates I feel like the screws will come loose."
Jana hands me the hammer, the warmth of her hand combatted by the icy coolness of the metal. I lift the hammer in my hands and begin to tinker the metal plates into place. Jana in the meantime superglues the plates in the right places in order for them to actually stay on this time. My desk is immaculate and clean; we've had to stop many times to clean the long tendrils of hardened glue off its surface. I can't stand mess; it gets in the way of what I'm doing, and it distracts me. Jana knows that my OCD can be a problem at times, but she's patient around it.
The silence is comfortable, filled with the energy of two working minds on an invention of their own. It sounds pretty simple, but we're making a robot at the moment. But it's not just any robot, it's an automatic wind up with a potential battery life of at least six hours. The problem we've been having so far is with the shoulders of the robot. We wanted some metal shoulder plates, suspended by a screw, to protect the robot's neck in case it falls, but that's where we ran into a problem. The plates weren't positioned correctly, and thus we've been finding the angle we need…at the cost of the screws loosening several times.
Jana finishes off the last plate with the glue gun, and sets the object down, grinning from ear to ear.
"I think that'll be good for now, Geoni." she sighs, untying her brown curls from behind her head.
I wince slightly: imagine putting all the oil and stuff on your hair! Almost gagging at the thought, I quickly move over to the bucket of water in my room, feeling the cold water wash away the oils and sweat from hard work. The prototype for our robot is nearly finished, and I'm so proud of it! It will be the fourth project I'll have finished with Jana now. We've been working together really well ever since we became friends a while back.
I've never been the best at making friends because of my OCD and how awkward I feel around some people, but Jana and her twin brother, Lysander, were quick to find me. They had a problem making friends because their father is one of the large factory owners around here. Their social standing makes people jealous of them. Unfortunately, that's been reflected onto me as well. My father started off as a nobody, but as soon as he made his revolutionary blueprints, he made a livelihood. Most Capitol trains these days tend to be a version of my father's designs. He's away quite a lot, designing and making new trains, leaving me to live with my Mom, the Mayor of District Six.
A knock at the door brings me out of my closed mind, and my head moves towards the sound. Jana walks over to the smooth barrier, twisting the doorknob and revealing none other than Lysander, who appears to be shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"Ugh, what are you doing up here?" Jana groans. "You won't understand any of our blueprints, let alone the prototype for our automatic wind up version one point three!"
"Uh…what?" Lysander asks stupidly, his eyes crossing slightly as he fights to understand what Jana is on about. I have to confess, is it slightly amusing for the two of them to bicker, but it's more endearing than anything else. I guess it would be interesting to have a twin, but that makes me wonder about the genetics behind having twins.
Regrettably, I ignore that question and focus on real life.
"We're building a robot." I translate kindly.
Jana growls and rolls her eyes. She doesn't see the point in me translating our technical language to Lysander. If anything, I feel sorry for him. He's never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's not a lost cause, and I know he'll learn something eventually.
"Oh, cool!" Lysander exclaims. "Are you done with it yet?"
"If you consider the recalibration of the iron plates to exactly forty-five degrees, along with the necessary amount of superglue to stabilise and execute the stability of the-"
"No," I say simply, cutting off Jada with a sharp look.
As much as Jana is my best friend, she doesn't make things any easier for her poor twin brother.
"Oh…" Lysander visibly deflates slightly.
"What are you here for anyway?" Jana enquires.
"We need to head off soon," Lysander answers, scratching the top of his head. "Dad said he wants us back by the time we get home. He's got us some new reaping clothes and wants us to try them on before tomorrow."
Jana makes a face but resigns.
"Alright, alright. You coming, Geoni?"
"No, I'll stay here to clean things up," I reply with a warm smile. "But I'll catch you two before the reapings tomorrow!"
"See you tomorrow!" Lysander smiles, coming forward and embracing me. Jana follows the suit and pulls on her shoes, which are outside the door.
After grabbing a cloth and cleaning the doorknob of any germs, I follow the twins downstairs and open the door for them.
"I wish I could escort you back, but I really do need to clean up." I smile apologetically.
"But your room is so clean!" Lysander whines.
"Not clean enough for me," I shrug. "I'll catch you later!"
"He's OCD, you idiot!" Jana cries, swatting her brother playfully over the head.
"Oh yeah…" Lysander remembers, laughing as Jana facepalms.
"We'll see you later!" Jana calls as she leaves me behind, dragging Lysander before her.
Seconds later, the image of their retreating backs is filled by our closed front door, a door devoid of splinters and painted red. My brown eyes continue to stare at the door for a second, but they soon dart away, back in action once more. My hand slides gently across the smooth surface before falling to my side. I move up the stairs with hardly a sound, returning to my room and cleaning my desk for the last time today. I gently pull my duvet across the bed by an inch, smoothing it out with my hands in order to get rid of any creases. I reposition some books on my bookshelf and wipe up any excess water on the lip of the bucket. After a few minutes, I deduce that my room is as spotless and as perfectly tidy as I can possibly get it.
I hear a knock, and my bedroom door creaks open. I'm expecting to see Arryn, our caretaker and within seconds, there she stands with grey curls and a plump figure, looking down at me with fondness. She's like the Grandmother I never had, and even though her job is to clean and keep everything in order, my family pretty much consider her as one of us.
"Hi, Arryn." I smile.
"Hello Geoni." the woman chuckles, patting my dark hair. "Your Mother wants to talk to you, she'll want to spend some time with you before the reapings."
"Are you going to join us?" I question.
Arryn smiles sadly.
"I'll be making cookies in the kitchen, dear, but I'll join you shortly before I head home."
She pats me gently on the shoulder and sends me on my way, moving slowly after my pattering feet. I make my way quietly downstairs, offering Arryn to go before me (to which she declines). My Mother is in the front room, sat on the cushioned bench by the window. The light outside is bright, but my Mother's face looks anything but, obviously worried about tomorrows reaping.
"Mom?" I ask, stepping forward and readjusting my glasses.
With a jolt, she turns to me, soaking up my image as if to remember me for the last time.
"Geoni…" she whispers tiredly in greeting.
"Is this about tomorrow?" I question. "We both know I'm fine. The statistical chance of me getting picked is low. I know there's still a chance, no matter small it is, but there's no point in being worried."
My Mother smiles painfully and nods.
"I know."
"Then what's the matter?" I probe. "You look so sad. Are you okay?"
"I'm just worried. I know I shouldn't be, but I am Geoni." she sighs. "Come here."
She opens her arms for a hug, and I huddle into her warmth, closing my eyes and holding her tight. And that's where we sit, holding one another for the comfort my Mom needs. I can tell she's worried, and I'm scared too. I'm her blanket of comfort, and she's mine.
If there's one thing that's clear, if I get reaped, then I'm fighting to get home.
But I don't need to worry. I'm only in that bowl twice.
I'll be fine. Right?
Cassia Foster, Fifteen, District Eight Female
I'm so bored.
The wall I'm staring at is fairly uneventful in its appearance, wallpaper peeling and paint fading away. The only reason I'm staring at the wall is because nothing's happened for the past half an hour, and I have nothing better to do right now. I guess things would be more exciting in a home with a loving family…food on the table, parents that loved you and happiness all around. It's depressing, so bleak that it's worse than this care home I'm living in. There are several of these homes splattered around the District, almost as if they've sprung up everywhere for children left homeless by the rebellion. Only six years ago, District Eight was hit hard by bombings for being the most violent and rebellious District in Panem. President Snow halted the rebellion and stopped it in its tracks, but that wasn't before he killed hundreds of District Eight citizens. No parents meant nowhere for the children to stay. Eight has more children than adults, and the only thing that can heal that problem is time.
The care home I'm in has about fifty of us living in it, even though it's only meant to hold about thirty. Most of us have to share rooms unless you count the eldest ones. Once you're sixteen or seventeen, you might be lucky enough to have a room of your own. Eighteen-year-olds are forced into factories or other low paying jobs. It's not a pretty future, but it's better than going into the Hunger Games, getting killed by a Peacekeeper, or dying of starvation.
I would be a lot happier had my sister, Cumin, been here. I would have felt calmer, more myself and freer. But it's been a while since I've felt that way. Now all I feel is anger. I'm always wound up, tense and restless, almost as if I've been made for the very purpose to hurt other people, just like my Mother. It was rough for my family after the rebellion. I'd never known my Dad, and all we had was a bipolar Mom on drugs. We tried to get her to stop wasting our money, our livelihood, to try and make our family safer, especially for Cumin.
Then we found the diary.
It was Mom's, and I read every page. It was filled with writing, words that hated herself and hated me. They wanted to torture us, to hurt us until we moved no longer. Every word was like a knife to the heart, an eternal sting that threatened to stop its constant beat, leaving me on the floor to die. She hated us. She hated herself. She hated everything. Cumin and I decided to wean her off the drugs, throwing them out and getting rid of them in secret. We even decided to talk to her about her diary.
It was the biggest mistake I've made in my life.
Mom flew into a rage, shouting and screaming, eyes bulging and spittle flying from her lips. She whispered obscenities, and then shouted them, wailing in fury like a woman scorned. She swung for us, caught Cumin, and threw her down the stairs.
She broke Cumin's spine forever.
People helped us. They helped us escape from Mom, and Mom was sent to prison, never to leave again. But the damage was done, and I soon realised that Cumin would never, ever be able to walk again. The whole ordeal was enough trauma as it was, but what made it worse was that Cumin and I were separated. She needed extra care, but as much as I insisted that I was capable of looking after her, I was ignored and sent here.
I never saw her again.
"Cassia? Cassia!"
Rosanna, my only friend rushes over to me.
"That's where you were!" she gushes. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I answer, grateful for something to do. "What's up?"
"Nothing much," Rosanna shrugs. "You?"
"Staring at a wall," I smirk. "I love it sooo much."
Rosanna laughs and I smile widely. I like to make people laugh sometimes, because it brightens up the mood, even when I'm feeling less than happy myself. Rosanna is one of the only people who really understand me…but I haven't told her anything about how I got here. She's always been interested, but she knows not to bother asking. It's the only time I've yelled at her, so I think she guessed that it's a sore subject.
The sad thing is that I'm not sure if I'll ever tell anyone about what happened to me. It's just too close to my heart, kept under lock and key and hidden within me. I've never really let anyone in, but that was for a reason. What if they got too close? The results could only be disastrous, a failure that could threaten to break me again.
No, I'm definitely not strong enough yet, and I don't think I ever will be.
"Hey, Cassia, let's go for a walk!" Rosanna chirps cheerfully. "It's our last free day before…you know…"
I look up to her, watching her irises twitch slightly as they scan my face for a reaction. She cares so much about me, and yet she knows so little. My heart yearns for her to know about my past, but both my head and my lips know better than to speak the words that so desperately wish to be free. They're on the tip of my tongue, so close to making themselves known that it almost drives me crazy. There are times, random moments in my friendship with Rosanna, where I've just wanted to blurt out everything that's happened to me, but I can't. I just can't.
"Okay!" I smile brightly, trying my best to hide that I'm really not feeling great at the moment.
As I stand up and follow my friend, my past flashes before my eyes; my Mother, Cumin's broken form, and the diary in my hands. I wish someone knew what I've been through and what I've had to cope with for all this time.
I wish I could tell someone, but…
It's just too painful to share.
Barric Roland, Sixteen, District Nine Male
The screen flickers in front of me, coloured bars skimming over the surface of the faded picture that lights up our sitting room. Snuggled up next to me is my younger brother, Blaze, and growling over in the corner to the left is my younger sister, Selena. Of course, she's never pleased with whatever I make her do because I'm "overprotective" and "boring". But she doesn't realise that I'm doing this for her own good. I don't think Mom would forgive me if she walked in right now, to be honest. Her eyes would bug and she'd freeze up in horror. Never, ever, would my Mom endorse me to watch the Hunger Games.
Yet, that's exactly what we're doing.
Maybe that's why Selena keeps grumbling.
Currently, we're watching the review of last year's Hunger Games for the third time this month. Condensed into a couple of hours, the film is a highly edited collection of major events that took place during the Eightieth Hunger Games. I'm not watching it because I like the Hunger Games, I'm watching it because I have to. Blaze, Serena, myself…if any one of us went into the Games, we'd never have been prepared for it. So that's why the three of us are sitting here and watching this. Every year I have and will sit them down to watch the recap of the Hunger Games. I'll point out strategies and mistakes that each tribute has made, so the three of us will be none the wiser should the time come for us to fight.
Another annoyed huff from Selena diverts my attention from the TV screen. I skim over her small face to see her eyebrows meshed together, and her skin wrinkled in a childish scowl. I look at her intensely, silently trying to attract her attention.
"This is boring!" she whines aloud, shifting slightly out of her position in the corner of the room.
I sigh, shaking my head at her.
"It's for your own good," I explain to her calmly. "What if you went into the Hunger Games and you didn't know how to do anything?"
"How's this supposed to make us better?" Serena fires back. "We can't learn by sitting here all the time. Plus, it's my first reaping. I won't get picked!"
I smile a little at her confidence. She's too young and naïve to understand the reality of her situation. She's pretending to be fearless, like a ferocious lion cub that is desperate to prove itself to the rest of the pack. But Serena doesn't get it. If she doesn't know something about how the Games function, then she'll be doomed if she's reaped, and there's nothing I can do to protect her.
I can protect Blaze, who's only thirteen, but he and Selena are like chalk and cheese. He agrees with me about what we're doing, because he realises that it's necessary. Selena's the type of girl who would volunteer just to prove herself. That's something I'm making sure doesn't happen. I mean, I've done all I can to keep them out of the arena, and that includes prohibiting them from taking tesserae. I've taken out what my family needs.
Today, however, it's Blaze that goes against my word, which is rare. My head turns to him as he sits up and runs his small hands through his hair.
"Can we have a break?" he begs me, looking at me with those wide pondering eyes of his. "We've seen this so many times, and we already know who wins."
I bite the inside of my cheek, considering Blaze's request. To be honest, I wasn't really paying attention to the programme either. It's not like missing out on this will hurt too much. Plus, tomorrow's the reaping. Maybe I should cut the other two some slack. Someone's getting reaped tomorrow, and it could easily be someone they know. It could easily be them.
It could easily be me.
Caving in, I nod.
"Fine," I tell them. "Make sure to see your friends in case you don't see them tomorrow."
Blaze gives a loud cheer, leaping off the sofa and hugging me tightly around the neck.
"Thanks, Barric!" he chimes. "You're the best!"
At his words, I can't help but to smile and watch him as he races out of the house. I hear the front door slam loudly, followed by the receding sound of his footsteps scraping against the gravel outside. Serena is a lot slower to move, but finally, she does so, stretching and putting on her shoes. I can tell she's happy that she's won this time, but I know she cares. She just thinks I go too far sometimes.
As if to confirm my thoughts, she returns to the living room and gives me a hug.
"Stay safe out there," I tell her.
"When am I not safe?" She snorts.
"Pretty much all the time." I smile, waggling my finger at her.
She flashes me a cheeky smile in reply, and in seconds I'm left alone.
Mom's not home yet, and she won't be for a couple of hours. Like me, she works odd jobs, earning money the best way she can. People need a lot of help around here, and they offer food, clothes, and sometimes money for it all to get done. I'm willing to help whenever I can. It helps Mom out a lot too. As for my Dad, he took the coward's way out. He killed himself when I was five. He didn't think he could run a family.
I vowed never to be like my father. How can I be a coward when my family is in need of so much help? I've sacrificed everything for Mom, Serena and Blaze; school, my dreams - even my social life. But you know, it's not that bad. It makes people happy. It makes my family happy. I just want to be there for someone so I can help them out.
But what about you, Barric?
Sighing to myself and shaking my head, I get up off the sofa and turn off the TV. In a small burst of static, the screen goes dark, and the dim light in our sitting room leaves me in darkness. Stumbling over to the curtains, I open them, wincing as the light floods the living room and assaults my eyes.
What about me?
I can't think of my own dreams and wishes, at least not yet. While there are so many things that I want from my life, I have to remember that my family are more important. Their needs must come before mine. A more selfish part of me reminds me yet again of what I want to do. I want to settle down with someone, someone who cares about my needs as much as I care about theirs. My family are happy, so why can't I be the same? People tell me that I have so much potential, with a head filled with ideas and a smart outlook on life. And yet, I have to keep my family safe. I have to be the Dad we never had.
Leaving the house and walking down the street, I head for the fields. One of the farmers asked me for a hand; he has some carts that need pulling. Walking down the street, I glance at people from afar. There are a lot of attractive people here, both male and female. It's a shame that I can't get with someone and settle down like everyone else does, but maybe that's for the best.
Maybe I have to sacrifice my own happiness for the well-being of those closest to me.
But I can't help thinking…
Is that really fair on me?
Another one done~
So, drop me a chart! Who did you love/like/feel neutral to/dislike in this chapter? Do you think Aisha did something wrong, or could she be forgiven? Do you think Geoni is smart enough to make himself a threat in the Games? Do you think Cassia's right to keep her past to herself? Do you think Barric should find his own happiness, or is he being too selfish? Did I write these characters well enough, or are there things you want me to improve on for next time?
I will update at some point soon :P
Over and out!
~Mental