Ingrid Chantilly
16 years old
~Every scar I have makes me who I am~
All the shine of a thousand spotlights
All the stars we steal from the nightsky
Will never be enough
Never be enough
Towers of gold are still too little
These hands could hold the world but it'll
Never be enough
Never be enough
Three in the morning is a time where magic can happen.
It's also a time where you can be laying in bed, eyes- or eye in my case, wide open. Terrified of what could happen. For six years of your life, you live in almost constant fear. At your most happiest of moments- at your most relaxed, there will always be a voice in the back of your mind. A voice saying: "Only a few months before you could get picked."
There's no escape from the feeling, and tonight- the night before the reaping is when the cold hand at your stomach begins to tighten.
Sleeping is rarely an issue for me, but I realise as I switch on my lamp and search around for my notebook that tonight I will not be getting any.
3:42am
I write after checking my watch.
Dear diary,
It's me again. I shouldn't have to introduce myself so formally, I'm the only one that will ever read this, but there's something comforting in it.
District 6 is my home and I love most of it- except the druggies, but I wish the Gamss didn't exist. I wish the Capitol didn't exist!
I hurriedly scribble the last six words out, my heart beating. Hopefully no one will ever read those words, but it's better to be safe then sorry. If anyobe ever found this notebook, words like that could be taken as rebellious conduct, punishable offence.
Which is a reason I hate living in Panem. I've read books. Books where the world is free. Books where you can say things without fear of things happening.
I clench my fists and push the bad thoughts away. District Six is where I live and I should count myself lucky. We don't know much about other districts, but whilst Six may have a drug problem, in other districts, you would be killed for so much as thinking about drugs. When I was young, older classmates would scare me by telling me stories about the Capitol having mind reading machines, but I think they were joking. I still try to only think good things around Peacekeepers, but sometimes my head buzzes with thoughts before I can remember to push them away.
I only have a few years more to go, but I'm scared. If I'm picked what will I do? I'm not strong and my only talent is drawing and even then only people. My teachers tell me to 'look on the bright side' but I can't find what the bright side of dying would be. Maybe, if those people that stand on the streets are right and there Is really an Afterlife I'll be able to see out of both eyes and people won't think I'm weird but what if what I said about the Capitol makes me go to the bad afterlife.
Though I don't really believe it. I asked Mom once and she spjust rolled her eyes and then told me: "Ingrid, those men were on drugs and you shouldn't listen to them," only she also swore a lot when she said that and she didn't say it politely, but I only got this notebook a few weeks ago and I don't want to swear in it.
Anyway, my hand is starting to hurt and I don't like writing so I'm going to draw until it's late enough in the morning for me to be able to do stuff without waking Mom up.
I don't know whether or not I should say 'bye' because it's just something people say to be good socially, but I will anyway.
Goodbye-
Ingrid Chantilly
It's weird, writing makes my hand ache, but drawing doesn't. I open the book on my desk and look at the picture. I wanted to draw every Victor of the Hunger Games as project, but I couldn't find any pictures of victors from before the rebellion, so I decided to just do the ones from the 76th and onwards.
At the moment I'm on the 85th. His name is Caddy and even 52 years, at 70 years old he's mentoring. He's from Distruct 6 and mentors every other year. When I saw uphold picture a few days ago I was surprised about how handsome he was. Even before winning, he was rich enough to dye his hair, and even though his stylist tried to hide it by making him wear a hat, you can still see from the strands poking out that it was bright blue. The picture was taken in his pre-games interview and I like to think I can see some laughter in his eyes- even if I'm bad at reading emotion even in real life.
Four hours later, I finish sketching and shading his face, although I still need to draw his hair and clothes on. When I lose myself in drawing, I often don't notice how much time has past. I focus on other things too. Once I spent an entire lesson just staring at a spot of ink on the floor, and another time, at a stray hair on a girls jumper. The latter of thosd times ended badly for me, because the girl thought I was staring at her and took offence, and she got her boyfriend, who is known to take drugs that make him angry, to punch me. It really hurt, and for a few minutes I saw these black spots, which really scared me because I'm already blind in one eye, and my second biggest fear in my life is going blind in the other, which was said to be likely when I was born.
No one says it, but me having so many problems was such a cause for stress that my father- barely even twenty-five, killed himself rather than deal with me. Mom says he already had problems, but I'm scared that she resents me for being a factor. He died when I was four, so I still have memories of what he looked like but when Mom showed me the wedding photos, tears after he died it made me sad to see how carefree he looked.
I shake my head to get rid of the bad thoughts again and walk into our kitchen and pull out the box of oats. I get a saucepan and add water before shaking in the correct amount of oats and putting it on our gas stove. For five minutes, I mix, making sure the oats don't stick to the pan and burn and then I leave them to rest for a few minutes. I look in our fridge and smile when I see that the pot of cream I had a few days ago both has some left and is still smelling okay.
I pour the porridge into two bowls, leaving one for Mom, and putting cream in my own. I take it into my room and sit at my desk. I can't concentrate on more then one thing at once, so I don't read as I eat, but when I've finished and washed my bowl, I open my reading book and making sure to be conscious of the time- allow myself to get sucked into the story.
I fold my page over to make sure I don't lose where I am, and pick up the clothes I chose yesterday- a pair of black trousers and a blue shirt. They're comfortable but look smart. I put them on and make sude my hair is neat. I keep it cut short so it doesn't tangle or weigh me down, but sometimes it sticks up.
Satisfied that it's okayi walk into moms room. She knows that I need to be alone on a day like this so I don't freak out. I'm too anxious to hug her, but I squeeze her fingers.
"See you later Ingrid. Try and keep calm in the crowd."
Talking is too much energy, and I need it all to brave the square, so I just nod my head and give her a quick wave.
Time to be brave.
Nox Elderman
12 years old
~I didn't want to be an outcast. But apparently I am~
On the outside, always looking in
Will I ever be more than I've always been?
'Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass
I'm waving through a window
I try to speak, but nobody can hear
So I wait around for an answer to appear
While I'm watch, watch, watching people pass
I'm waving through a window, oh
Can anybody see, is anybody waving back at me?
"Have you got any threes?" I ask Viveca, my older sister. She groans. "Should I take that as a yes?"
She mock glares at me and reluctantly hands over the cards. "Fuck you bro," I stick my tounge out at her. "Fuck you."
"That isn't very nice!" I say mock indignantly, "but luckily I think winning will take the edge off of that." I show her my cards and she faceplants. "Read 'Em and weep sucker!"
I begin a victory dance and she shields her eyes from me. "Make it stop!" She groans, meaning I have no choice but to continue.
Then mother walks in, and I immediately sit down, back straight, Viveca having already straightened up.
"What was that I just saw Nox? Why are you embarrassing yourself like that?"
I look down, embarrassed and not wanting to make a sound. When mother is in a mood like this, anything can anger her. Today, it's my first reaping and Viveca's third, so she's even more tense than she is normally. Walking in on me doing a stupid dance couldn't have helped those feelings.
"Do you know what? I'm not in the mood. I'm going into my room and don't disturb me unless there's an absolute emergency. Do you understand?"
We both nod, ashamed.
At least she didn't hear Viveca's swearing. That would have tipped her over the edge.
As a Peacekeeper, she's never truly relaxed, even more so from absolutely hating District Six. She was trained to be a Peacekeeper in a career District, and they have slightly different training from normal Peacekeepers. Having to work in Distruct Seven was apparently bad enough for her, but when she met my dad, and fell in love with him, she was sent out to District Six in a disgrace.
She was amazingly lucky though. Often, people in her situation could end up avoxed, but she was allowed to keep her toddler as she moved, on the condition she never talked to my father again- not that she could. When she got to Six however, she discovered she was several months pregnant with me.
Of course, she would never tell either me or Viveca any of this, but a while ago, we found her old journal when we were sorting out the house. We shouldn't have read it, but we knew nothing about our mother or father and we both needed to know.
Reading it was surreal. We couldn't imagine our plain, no nonsense mother ever daring to rebel. She doesn't take any pleasure in hurting anyone, but she follows the Peacekeeper rules almost exactly wguch has resulted in her having to whip people only a few years older than Vivica for things like graffiti or breaking curfew.
From that, and having the names and appearances of children from seven, neither me or Viveca are particularly liked. Maybe the one good thing about this is how close we are. She's my best friend, even if she is two years older than me and annoying as hell.
We aren't bullied, or even teased, but we are different, and sometimes that feels pole enough. It's not fair, but I understand and I can't blame them. If they had family that ever hurt Viveca in any way I eiuld never be able to speak, or look them in the eye without spitting at them in contempt.
"Nox!" Viveca clicked her fingers in front of my face. "You alright?"
Suddenly, I realise I'd zoned out with all the thoughts running through my head. "Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking. Do you you wanna go make lunch?"
She looks at me oddly. "Yeah sure, what are we having?"
"Steak?"
"You must not have zoned back in. Maybe on Sunday if we could spare the cash, but unlikely."
I sigh, but it wasn't like I really thought we would be able to. "Grilled cheese then?"
"Better. You can grate the cheese. Don't you dare get any blood in it."
"I won't! You startled me last week."
"I asked you to pass me the salt!"
"And that startled me!"
She glares, but there's no heat behind it. "Whatever, hurry up I'm hungry and we've only got two hours and I need to wash my hair. It feels greasy."
"Why don't you cut it short then?"
"Because then, we'd probably be identical. And no one wants that."
"Hey!" I pout. "What's wrong with my appearence?"
"What's right with your appearance more like," she snorts, and I try to punch her arm but she dodges.
Before long, the cheese is ready and we sit down, talking about random things, trying to keep our mind off of needing to leave for the reapings.
"Try and look smart for once in your life," she says . I'd pout, but I can't refute the fact that my style is normally pretty messy.
"I'll try," I groan, and I'm rewarded by a smile.
"Good luck then. See you in an hour."
Before a few weeks ago, I didn't own any smart clothes, but knowing I'd need some for the reaping, I went shopping. Our family is well off, it's not like being a Peacekeeper is bad pay, even for a less important district like Six, but we aren't mega rich so I couldn't get anything too fancy- not that I'd want to. Eventually I decided on a black dress shirt and matching trousers. Viveca polished my shoes when she was doing ger own earlier today, so the overall effect was pretty smart.
My hair is so closely cropped there's nothing I can do with it, so don't bother, and walk out. Viveca takes longer, but finally she's ready too.
"Goodbye you two. I'll see you later if you aren't chosen."
Viveca rolls her eyes at her bluntness, but I have the sudden urge to hug her and beg for her to get me out of this situation, but I manage to control myself, although I dont know how.
I don't know if I can do this.
I have to do this.
Caddy Benz
Winner of the 85th
67 years old
So many years of mentoring and it never gets easier. Each tribute blurs into each other but I can remember a few. The little 12 year old that screamed if you would go near her, The fifteen year old that never said a word. But the worst are the optimistic. The ones that try to keep their partner smiling. The ones that never get upset or angry.
Almost every time, they're killed in the bloodbath.
Most victors in Six- not that there are many, turn to morphling to self medicate, but I've never done so. Not our of morality or wanting to stay alert. For I another reason. I won the Hunger Games, but I'm terrified of needles. It's an odd contradiction.
"Welcome to the 137th annual Hunger Games!"
They're so faint now, but I have memories of before the rebellion. I was 3 when it happened, and six when they restarted the Hunger Games. It started with doing one for Capitol children but they continued. The saying is true: An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.
"This year, we have a special surprise for every District. We get to watch a video!"
Her sugary sweet voice hurts my ears, and when she starts the video, it's the first time I ever wish I'd started taking Morphling. It wasn't pretty. And judging from the reactions, the kids didn't like it either. Or maybe they were just scared shitless. That could be a reason.
"Our first tribute is Ingrid Chantilly!"
A sobbing girl with pale skin and short dark hair walks on stage. Sobbers rarely last for more than a few days. It's hard, but true.
And my heart sinks when the boy, 'Nox Elderman,' walks on stage. He's only 12. Another loss year for Six.
I keep my expression neutral but already I know that I can't have any hope.
They should have their funerals now.
Ingrid Chantilly
Why me?
I've never done anything wrong. I've always tried to be a good person. It's not fair.
"I'll miss you so much, mom," I say and she hugs me.
"Don't lose hope Ingrid. Once you lose hope, you're dead in seconds. Anyone has a chance. Please try Ingrid."
I wrinkle my nose in disbelief. "I won't not try, but it won't help mom. I'm useless."
"Don't say that Ingrid! You aren't."
I am, but I refuse to argue with her on the last time I see my mom. Instead, I just sink deeper into her hug. Maybe it won't be too painful to die.
Nox Elderman
"Where's mother?" I ask Viveca in the mix of crying and hugging. Surely she isn't that cold.
"Don't worry bro, she's coming in a minute. She wanted to talk to you alone. I think it's important."
"It doesn't matter. You're more important," I say and she smiles faintly. "Love you Vivvie."
"Love you too Nox."
A knock at the heavy door startles us out of our hug, and mother walks in, back even more rigid than normal. "I'll meet you at home Viveca,"
"But," she protests, but mother cuts her off.
"Go home Viveca."
Viveca angrily walks out, and I keep my eyes on her, until I can't see her. When she's out, mother quickly shuts the door.
"We don't have much time," she says urgently. "Take this." She hands me her Peacekeeper badge. "If you survive the bloodbath, somehow destroy this in the arena."
I look at her in shock. I knew she was angry at the Capitol, but to not just condone, but ask me to do an act like this. That was downright rebellious.
"I'll try."
"Goodbye Nox. Good luck son."
Sorry this took slightly longer. As I've been complaining too much to my friends, a slight lack of reviews was the reason. I know it sounds really bad, but I won't sugar coat it. Feedback, even if it's "meh, you've done better," means a lot to me.
Anyway, thank you for being patient with me. What did you think of these tributes? We're half way through with the reapings which is pretty cool.
Who do you like more out of these two? Is there anything I can do to improve?
I know this is this account's first SYOT, so I shouldn't expect too much if terms of reaction, but ya know, I'm weird. Thank you to all that have read! I hope you're still enjoying.