District Two Female: Atlanta Manadnock

I dream of a small house in the woods where sunlight filters in through smudged windows. The solid mountains provide protection without blocking out the light, and the path to the front door is well worn. A little girl plays in the woods near the home, contriving stories and games alone or with friends, her dark brown hair wild, her almond eyes alight with something greater than happiness. I dream only when I sleep, however, and the dreams are not always so beautiful and nostalgic.

"Atlanta!" A yell jolts me from my sleep, and I sit up quickly, instinctively grabbing the makeshift knife by my pillow. I throw off the threadbare blanket, the cold air kissing my skin as I stand in the middle of the alleyway, looking for the source of the cry.

The five of us are nestled between four dumpsters, two against one wall, three against another. I relax as I realize it's only Winnie who's calling for me, eyes wide after a nightmare.

"Shit Win," I go to her, kicking the knife away. "Don't scare me like that."

We sit next to each other, careful not to disturb Alicia, who is still fast asleep. I take her hands in mine, rubbing them as I try to warm them up. She's nearly blue with cold, though it feels like it's only fifty degrees or so.

"Sorry," she says sheepishly, looking up at me with doe eyes that still remind me a little too much of Alex's. "Had a nightmare."

"I gathered," I say dryly, though its with a slight grin. "Wanna tell me about it?"

"No," she says, instinctively.

I raise an eyebrow.

"Fine," she relents, twitching slightly. Her cheeks are hollow, and her hair is limp and nearly matted with dirt. We all smell of refuse, but there is something acidic about Winnie's stench, like burning plastic. I glance over at Alicia as Winnie begins to speak.

"There was fire," she shudders. "That's what I remember most. A whole lot of-"

"Can y'all shut up?" Mandy's harsh voice pipes up from across the alleyway. "Some of us are trying to sleep, and y'all are kinda ruinin' it."

"She had a nightmare," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Oh, boo hoo," Mandy snorts, sitting up. "We all have fuckin' nightmares."

I'm on my feet now. "Shut your damn mouth. She's a child."

"You're a child too, bitch!"

"Fuck off!"

Suddenly there are skinny arms pulling me back, arms around Mandy as well. Jezebel and Alicia are wrestling us away from each other. Alicia dumps me against the wall, and I watch Jezebel tighten her grip on Mandy until she calms down.

"Well," Jezebel shakes her head at us. "That's one hell of a way to start the morning. You two- stay the hell away from each other today. Winnie, Mandy, you're with me. Alicia, Atlanta, you two are together."

I stand again, squeezing Winnie's hand. I don't look back at Mandy. We get into it pretty often, but not like today. I suppose today's different though- many people are on edge; we have a lot to lose. Alicia grabs my arm, hauling me off down the alley.

The District Two sun is hidden by a thick layer of mist, obscuring buildings not to far away. It casts everything in a blue-grey tone, the streets coated with a peculiar silvery glow. We use this to our advantage, Alicia and I slipping between the crowds, looking for those who might have a few extra coins tucked into their back pockets.

Most days it's more difficult, our rags and dirty hair marking us as little more than dumpster divers and street rats, which I suppose we are. Today, however, everyone is distracted. It didn't used to be like this. I used to walk around town with my older brother, my parents always a few steps behind us. But war has taken more than their lives from me. It's ruined my own.

Alicia grabs my hand, leading me into an alleyway. She opens her rough burlap bag, showing me the bounty within.

"We have…" she pulls out a handful of coins and bills. "Well, hell, I can't do math. You count the money."

I take it from her, carefully smoothing out the paper. My mother taught me addition and subtraction when I was younger, using smooth round stones from the river to show me that if you had two pebbles and took away one, only one remained.

"Fifteen." I announce.

"Hey, pretty damn good," Alicia grins. Alicia is all cinnamon and cardamom, summer and evaporating water. She has no filter, and reminds me of blinding sun. I, on the other hand, am silver and dead leaves crunching under your feet, drizzle and patterned ice.

"You know what else I got?" her voice is tantalizing, holding back laughter. I look up, rolling my eyes, not bothering to answer as she holds out a dead rodent of some sort.

"Hey, I thought it was funny." She shrugs, used to my silent, cool manner.

"We should get back," is my only response.

"You and Mandy almost made me crack up this morning," she says, as we begin to walk back towards the alleyway that we've claimed as our own. The official home of the Lost Girls, or our little ragtag group of war orphans. I resist that title. My mother is alive somewhere, though I'm sure I want nothing to do with her.

"She's a crackhead," I shrug. "Probably was high."

"Oh, you'd like to think that," Alicia says. "She's cleaner than Jezebel."

"Then why does it always smell like someone's doing drugs?"

"We live in an alleyway, stupid," Alicia shoots back. "Someone's always doing drugs."

I stop arguing with her as we approach our home. When she realizes that no one else is back, she continues to chatter away.

"I wonder if her parents did drugs."

"Her parents were loyalists."

"Oh, like that makes a difference. Mine were rebels, and I turned out ok."

I suppress laughter, not bothering to point out all the times she's mouthed off to officials. "If you say so, Alicia."

"I do say so. Loyalist or rebel, doesn't matter." she pauses, looking inside her bag to grab a stale piece of bread she must have pulled out of a dumpster.

"Mine were loyalist," I offer.

"You never talk about your parents," she pries, giving me a curious look. "Wanna talk about it?"

I snort, clamming up almost immediately, my face retreating to its usual bored expression. "You just want gossip."

She doesn't deny it. We sit in silence for a moment, contemplating each other. I put my hand out for a piece of bread, and she rips a small chunk off and tosses it at me.

Jezebel, all coffee and bitter chocolate and autumn, returns with Many and Winnie in tow. After carefully counting our bounty, we relax, munching on recovered food from trash cans as the sun rises low behind the haze of clouds around us.

It isn't much, but it's a family.

-:-

I've known hunger so well in the past few years, you could say we sleep together. The first time I felt the hollow of nothing expanding in my stomach, my mother had left over a week ago, and my youngest brother and I had run out of food. I was reluctant to go into the city. The massive mountains and thick woods that surrounded our small home made the bombs and fights in the city seem so much farther away.

But we were starving, our mother wasn't back, and neither of us knew how to survive in the woods. The city was our only option.

Hunger is your organs twisting inside of you, daring you to walk another step, lift another object, speak another word before you shove something down your throat. Stamina is continuing to walk despite that hunger.

By the time we reached the city, our feet were blistered and bleeding, and sweat poured down our brows. The heat from raging fires nearby cast everything in a wavering orange, and chaos reigned. I hoped to see Wren or my dad in their Capitol uniforms, trying their best to restore peace and order. Instead, I only saw horrific things, pillage and rape and murder and blood, blood everywhere.

I saw my little brother die, an explosion blasting him to bits.

I try to shove these memories down as Winnie and I continue to sort through our loot. I look down at her.

"Winnie," I break the quiet silence between us. "You never told me about your nightmare."

She glances back up at me, eyes doelike and so much like my little brothers. I promised my mother I'd protect him and failed. "There was fire everywhere," she begins. "And my mother was screaming. I think she was burning."

I inhale slowly. "And then?"

"And then I was burning," she says quietly, polishing a coin on her dirty shirt. She looks back up at me. "And then I woke up."

I shrug. "I wouldn't let something like that happen to you."

She laughs. "Thanks, Atlanta," she shakes her head at me. "The war's over now, so you don't have to worry."

"Well, if you ever need anything," I say, hoping my voice doesn't sound to eager, to clingy. "I'm here."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

-:-

"You won't die, right?" I look up at my older brother Wren, face hopeful. "You and dad have to come back for us."

"I'll try my best," he messes up my hair. "I'll fight really hard for you guys, okay?"

"Okay," I say quietly, falling into his arms. His crisp white uniform is starchy against my tearstained cheek. I can imagine that same material soaked with blood, a strange crimson against such a pure, blinding white. I shake my head. I can't afford to think like that.

I watch as my brother and my father leave our house for the last time, headed into the city, where they'll be sent to any of the other twelve districts to fight for the Capitol. I press my hands into my sides, glancing at my mother. Her face is strangely calm, though also tearstained, as though she's already accepted their loss.

"Bye, you three," my father smiles back at us, closing the door behind him.

And suddenly, our small home feels empty, too large, too spacious without them.

-:-

After two years of waiting, my mother told Alexander and I that she was going to the city for a week, to try to find some information about their whereabouts. She hugged me tightly and told me to look after my brother with my life. I swore I would. When she never came back and I lost Alex to a bomb, I found a new family.

The five of us walk to the reaping together, Winnie and I hand in hand. Her palms are soft, like the rest of her. She is all violets and spun sugar and springtime. The rest of our group is a few steps away. Though the rest of the district has dressed up for the first anniversary of the hard won peace, we are dressed in our usual torn and dirtied garb.

Everyone gives us a wide berth.

The stage that has been erected holds the mayor, a few town officials, and a few Capitol citizens. Most are in suits and ties, but one woman onstage, barely over four feet, is extravagantly dressed, her heels so tall they add what seems like a foot to her stature. I turn to Alicia.

"How much money do you think she carries on her?"

"At least six thousand," she smirks, staring at the woman.

We file into our respective age sections. Mandy and I with the sixteen year olds, Alicia with the fifteen year olds, Jezebel with the eighteen year olds, and Winnie with the fourteen year olds. I haven't given much thought about the actual outcome of today. Everyday is such a struggle that it's hard to pay attention to one in particular.

I suppose that whoever is picked today will be condemned to certain death.

"Welcome," the lady begins, her voice shrill and strangely high pitched. "To the first ever official Remembrance day, where we remember the horrid rebellion by selecting two brave candidates to represent their district in the Hunger Games! Who shall be the first?"

She blabbers on for a few more minutes, and I tune her out, focusing instead on the sky. It's still gray, though the sun is visible, a faint white outline behind the haziness of it all. It nearly blinds me, and I'm forced to look away.

"Atlanta Manadnock!"

My eyes widen, shocked, and then my face quickly reverts to a normal, bored expression. Inside, however, my guts are twisting and I can barely breathe. I hear Winnie's scream, and try to let it float away, just like I am.

By the time I make it to the stage, I've found a silver lining.

At least it wasn't anyone else in my new family.

Hello! Sorry for updating later than usual today. This was a hard chapter to write, so I sincerely hope it doesn't suck. Paperairline, you gave me a lit character and I hope I did her justice. Questions!

1) Fav and least fav thing about Atlanta?

2) Favorite tribute thus far?

3) Critique me!

y'all are lit, life is lit, and shit is lit. have a gr8 thursday!

xo Ethereal