District Eleven
Maurice Toussaint (15) D11M
It was a beautiful day in District Eleven. The sun reached out to the citizens with its warm fingers. A gentle breeze was blowing, making the leaves on the high trees rustle in reply. A coolness had engulfed the place despite the sun and the birds, unaware of the tension among the residents, were soaring high in the sky, chirping merrily as if carrying news from some unknown lands.
Maurice Toussaint couldn't enjoy the scenery though.
It wasn't as if he didn't want to. He just… couldn't. As he stared at the birds from his open window, the wind slapping his freckled face, he wondered how they managed to do it. To fly, to sing, to be happy. There was a delight in their voice, something that was absent from Maurice's life. Letting out a sigh, he withdrew himself and looked around the room. There was nothing much to look at but his family still had a better house than most in the District.
However, his bare room still gave him the little comfort that he received. This was a place where he, and only he, ever entered. This was a safe haven, away from the prying eyes of the bullies, away from the hateful glare of his sister. Here he could be himself.
For somebody who was the birthday boy, Maurice wasn't too happy. After all, there had been nothing much in his life to look forward to. Besides, his birthday happened to be the Reaping Day. Most children would be worried about being selected to go to the Games. For Maurice, the fear went deeper than that. It wasn't just about being chosen to compete in a deathmatch, it was about going out. Outside was dangerous. Outside was terrible. There was nothing good outside his bare room. The world, with its vile creatures known as humans, only brought a terrible fate to those who tried to fight it. No, he was safe inside.
But today he'd have to go out, just like every other year. That one day when he wasn't safe.
In a place like Panem, one would wonder how a person could survive without going out. People had to work to live. People had to go to school. But the people of Eleven would also remember the shy boy with freckles all over his body and startling amber eyes. They remembered the boy who was teased by his peers for being different. Humiliation, bullying…. He was used to all of that. After all, he used to attend school till he was fourteen. However, there was a limit, and it seemed that fate wanted his life to cross that limit that kept him in contact with humans.
He was always shy, but both he and his mother realised soon enough that he couldn't really be an academic genius… or even someone who could just pass his exams. The alphabet appeared very strange to him. The numbers weren't any better. It was later that he found out that he had a problem called dyslexia.
Wasn't he just so full of problems?
Anyway, being unable to read and write properly brought Maurice under the radar of the school bullies… and his beloved elder sister. Cherie had no reason to hate him other than the sole strong desire to do so. This desire, possibly born due to sibling rivalry, was beyond strong. Cherie, who was so much older than Maurice to even contemplate on being jealous of her little brother, left no opportunity to torture him. She and her friends made Maurice the source of their entertainment. Once she left him in the incinerator of their basement. Another time she forced him to dress in their mother's clothes and walk around the school. another time her friend enlightened him on his ugliness. It was, in fact, not surprising at all that he feared all women and girls.
Now, Cherie had moved in with her fiancé. She worked as a nursing aid. Everyone loved her. All was well. Or… was it? Maurice could never get past the colours that his sister had shown. She had spoilt her childhood but now she looked after other people. How ironic.
Being in solitude had many advantages, but one disadvantage was enough to outweigh them all. Solitude gave a person time. Time to think, time to ponder. Time to reflect on one's life. And Maurice, in the solitude of his room and in his estrangement from mankind, had more than enough time to contemplate on the events of his miserable life. Cherie was to be blamed for this, but was she having any misery? No. she was happy. She was happy. She was confident. She owned it. Although she ruined his life she carried on with her own without a care. And what about Maurice? He was doomed. Words like confidence and happiness did not exist in his vocabulary.
But now was not the time to think about it. His own thoughts had become his enemy but in them he found comfort. How strange was the human brain! Indulging in what it despised! Attractive and yet repulsive, that was the power of the mind. That was what made humans as wretched as they were.
It was time to get ready though. His red hair in curls… most of it was shaven. As a child, most people couldn't decide on his gender based on the back of his head and many assumed him to be a girl. Now he wore distinctly male clothing, with his dark full sleeved shirts and trousers made specifically for males. Maurice didn't want to spend any time on getting ready. Why would anyone get ready for going to a 'ceremony' that selected a child to get slaughtered? He dropped the idea of dressing in anything fancy, and so, putting on black shoes full of holes, Maurice, with shaking steps, emerged out of his room.
He let out a deep, shaky breath before stepping forward. Two more years other than this one… Then he'd be free. Free to stay in his house. Free to think in his room. Clenching his fists, he tried to relax himself in order to proceed. Very soon, very soon he'd be free.
Ari Bell (17) D11F
"Ari, I'm sorry…"
"It's okay Rocco. No need to apologise."
"But- but you always have to do everything because of me. I-I feel so useless, watching everything as a spectator."
"Enough of that! None of it's happening because of you, Rocco, so you better not blame yourself for everything wrong happening. And you're not useless. I don't I could've continued to live through another day if it hadn't been for you. Plus, I like working. It's for the family, after all."
"You're too sweet, Ari. You're too sweet."
"Not as much as you."
The boy smiled at his sister as soon as the words left her lips. Ari pushed the chair forcefully, and a sigh escaped her. Her tired eyes still smiled at her brother, and then she stopped pushing the chair. Holding his hand and grabbing his back gently, she somehow managed to put him back in bed. Rocco was paralysed from waist down, and hence was incapable of moving around on his own. Ari didn't mind helping him but sometimes, her tired muscles simply begged to give up. It wasn't Rocco's fault that this had happened, neither for their misfortune. If anything, he was the victim of domestic assault.
No, Ari didn't blame her mother either. Or rather, she didn't want to blame her mother, but the mind wasn't like the heart; it knew what was wrong was wrong and couldn't be excused. Sure, she knew her mother was mentally unwell, and would have never pushed her son from the stairs so hard that he'd break his spine had she been healthy. But the fact remained the same, that both her mother and the two siblings needed help, their mother for her health and the children from her mother.
"Where have you kept the bottle you ***?!"
Rocco looked at his sister fearfully, who just pursed her lips. This was the problem. Alcohol had destroyed her family completely. It wasn't her mother Willa who consumed alcohol, it was the alcohol that had consumed her. Now Willa cared neither about her son nor her daughter as long as she had her beloved alcohol bottle with her, which Ari paid for, by the way.
"ARI!"
"She's mad," Rocco whispered softly, and reached for his sister's hand. Giving it a gentle squeeze, he smiled at her softly. He wasn't oblivious to her pain and suffering and the many sacrifices she had made, and he himself didn't feel particularly good about it. However, he was there emotionally if she needed him, and Ari was grateful for the support.
"I'll be back in a minute," she said giving her brother a pat on the shoulder and extricating her hand from his grip. Walking out of the room, Ari shut the door slightly to keep her brother out of the mess that was sure going to be created. Slowly, she walked into her mother's room.
Empty glass bottles were littered on the floor. There was an unmistakable stench of cheap alcohol in the stagnant room. Old, ragged clothes were strewn across the room. Dust had settled on the window sill as if they had found a new home. The mattress looked as if it hadn't been washed in months, because it hadn't. And the woman lying on it too looked as unclean as her bed.
"Where were you, you stupid woman?!" Willa screamed.
Ari closed her eyes for a second. It was hard, looking at the woman whose very image she was. She despised herself for sharing her mother's looks. In fact, the resemblance was so striking that people had told her when she was sixteen that she looked exactly like her. That was enough for Ari, and without wasting a moment she shaved her head. Some of the curly black hair had grown back now, and its length was the only thing that distinguished between their appearances. Otherwise their dark skin, full lips and dark eyes were too alike, except that Willa's eyes held cruelty which Ari's lacked.
"I asked you something! Answer me!"
"Where I was is none of your business," Ari replied calmly, all the while mentally preparing herself for the fight that was about to happen.
"You're forgetting girl, that you live in MY house! Otherwise you and you good-for-nothing brother wouldn't have a roof on your heads! Don't talk to me that way! do you get it?!"
"Very well."
"Now give me a bottle. Go get it!"
"I won't."
Willa raised her gaze slowly, her dark cruel eyes piercing her daughter. Slowly, she staggered to her feet, swaying as she walked towards her. Looking at her straight in the eye, Willa said in a low, steady voice, "What did you say?"
Ari knew what was coming. She knew she might not be able to even walk out of the room on her own if she said a word. But looking at her drunk mother, she just didn't want any more of this. How long was she supposed to listen to her mother's taunts, her screams and bear her beatings? There was a limit to everything, but Willa seemed to have forgotten everything.
"I- I have yet to receive my wages," Ari said. Of course, it wasn't what she had in mind, and it wasn't what she would have said, had she not had a paralysed brother to think of. Ari was the bread earner of the household. She worked outside, reaping the crops, far away from the house. She couldn't be available instantly in case of an emergency. And in such a situation, it would be unwise to leave her angry mother with her helpless brother. What if she did something drastic? Beatings, taunts… they could survive. But what if Willa decided to do something unforgivable? What if she attacked Rocco and he died? That was not only possible but also probable if she angered her mother.
"I don't know about that! I want my alcohol!"
"I'll- I'll try," Ari said and retreated a few steps before leaving the room quickly. She didn't want her mother to say a thing more, and leaving the spot was the best way to avoid that.
However, this couldn't continue for long. Every day the situation was getting worse. Her mother's sanity was deteriorating with every passing second, and something had to be done. Rocco deserved better. He could be helped. It would be in everyone' favour if he could become independent, especially his own.
Maybe there was a solution to this problem. But it had a huge risk attached. Would she survive it? Could she survive it?
Rocco's bedridden image flashed her mind, followed by her mother's threats. No… things had to be taken into her hands now. The Games were approaching. Normally, nobody would ever want to 'participate' in this event but Ari was helpless. Earlier, things had been slightly better. She hadn't really been afraid for her brother's life. Volunteering wasn't something she wanted to do but honestly, somethings didn't happen according to our wishes.
And however hard she'd try to deny it, there was no better option. Volunteering was the way out of this mess.
District Twelve
Horatio Aravani (14) D12M
"District Twelve, I am pleased to announce the name of the lucky young man who'll represent District Twelve in the Ninety First Annual Hunger Games. Ladies and Gentlemen, let's give it up for Claude Reynaud!"
A young man of eighteen stepped out of the line immediately. Even as the crowds started heaving sighs of relief, the young man started walking ahead in a brisk manner. The Reaped tribute's reaction wasn't what people were used to see. In circumstances like these, people were expected to show some fear, some anger, some sadness, anything really. But smiling? Looking relieved? No, that was a spectacle in not only District Twelve, but in majority of the world. Hence, neither the escort nor the crowd could understand what was evoking the smile on Claude Reynaud's handsome face.
However, the tribute's strange cause of happiness was certainly known to one young lad, four years younger than him, who watched the events unfold before him with a frown. Whereas his peers talked among themselves to congratulate each other on surviving another year, for Horatio Aravani the only person that existed was Claude Reynaud.
In fact, he despised the older boy's happiness to such an extent that he couldn't bear it. Raising his thin arm, the fourteen-year-old boy said in a loud, clear and authoritative tone, "I volunteer as tribute!"
Claude spun on his spot, his eyes fixed on Horatio, his smile wiped out, replaced by a look of terror that nobody other than him could explain. There was silence in the Square like the one before a storm, and even the escort had no idea what to say.
The boys appeared to be in utter shock. They couldn't decide who was crazier; the boy who was Reaped or the boy who volunteered? Some of them shook their heads wisely, coming to the conclusion that Horatio might be a poor little thing needing help. The boy in question was unfazed by all the stares and pointing. His light brown eyes were focused only on the boy he volunteered for his deathmatch for.
"No Horatio!" Claude said finally, as if he had just come to his senses. As the younger boy passed by him, he grabbed him by the arm. The younger boy paused, and his eyes seemed to be aflame. Everyone was holding their breath.
"You- you can't volunteer! I deserve this! Please- please don't do this!"
Finally, Horatio looked into Claude's eyes as he aggressively pushed his hand off his wrist. The younger boy was only five feet four, significantly smaller than Claude, but he seemed to be towering over him. So intense was his gaze that Claude lowered his; he didn't have it in himself to look Horatio in the eye.
"You don't decide what you deserve, Claude," Horatio said smoothly, "I do. And a deathmatch isn't what you deserve. Because a deathmatch will kill you once whereas your guilt will kill you everyday Claude, just as it has been for the past couple of years. Your guilt will kill you, and that's the punishment you deserve."
"Horatio, please. If anything happens to you, I won't be able to live with it! I've wronged you! Why are you punishing yourself?"
"That's where you're wrong Claude. I'm not punishing myself. If I die, my story will be over in a second. But you'll know till your last breath that I died because of what you did. You'll remember that you destroyed fourteen families. You'll remember that you took the lives fourteen innocent people. And I don't mind being added to the list."
"I-I'm sorry-"
"My father was one of them," Horatio whispered, as his moist eyes started stinging him. A single tear trickled down his right cheek even as he tried to keep his voice steady, "He was my everything Claude. You snatched him from me. I get it that you weren't in the right state of mind when you did it, but a murder is a murder. The only reason I never informed the Peacekeepers is that I want you to finish yourself. That'll be my revenge."
"Hor-"
Before Claude could say anything, Horatio pushed against him and started towards the stage, where his escort was staring at him in awe. His District Partner looked less than impressed though, and he smirked at her. Where everyone was talking about him volunteering, and that too at the age of fourteen, Teddy Formico simply looked bored. This would be interesting.
"There was no need to do that, son."
Ah, there he was. His dear father… initially, when he was thirteen, a really tender age, he had been troubled by the voice of his father. His father was, after all, dead, and hearing the voice of the dead was not the most desirable ability. The voices disturbed him, and he thought he was going insane. His mother didn't want to hear about it at all. Nobody wanted to help for nobody took him seriously. And so his father's voice stayed. Horatio would have tried harder had his father not mentioned the name. The name of his murderer.
Horatio couldn't believe it at the time. How could Claude do this?! The murdering spree in his District that had happened when he was eleven… how could Claude be the murderer? Wasn't he very young himself?
But the voice kept on egging him until he finally decided to confront the said boy about it. He was sure he wasn't doing the right thing. Accusing someone of murder was no small deal, and he had made a mental apology if needed. He was certain it would be needed. Therefore, it was only natural that he got puzzled when Claude looked at him with terrified eyes.
He had never imagined that his father's voice had been right all along.
"It was dad. This is the best punishment for him."
"But what about you?! You can die in there!"
"Well yes, but that'll also fall in his kill list."
"You're more forgiving than that."
"Yes I am dad, but only for them who deserve it."
Finally, brushing his medium length dark hair from his face, Horatio stepped onto the stage and next to the escort. He looked sideways at Claude, who still stood at the exact same spot, his eyes full of tears, and then turned to the escort with a smile.
"A volunteer! And so young too! What's your name, honey?"
"Horatio Aravani."
"That's a pretty name! So Horatio, do you want to say anything to your District here?"
The boy shook his head to which the escort nodded. He asked Teddy to come forward, and the two shook hands. Her grip was strong but her face looked completely blank. To Horatio it seemed as if she wanted to say a million things, but somehow, they'd all been erased from her mind.
"District Twelve, give it up for your tributes; TEDDY FORMICO AND HORATIO ARAVANI!"
Teddy Formico (16) D12F
There was a lot to process at the moment.
Teddy Formico paced her room silently. The sound of her feet on the blue carpet was light, but to her it was too loud. The beauty of the Justice Building seemed to be non-existent right now. The long tapestries depicting stories centuries old looked unimportant. Their worth might be more than the earnings of half the District, but right now the beautiful bluish unicorn was of least matter to her.
All her life Teddy had taken all her decisions by herself, with no restraint. Her freedom was without boundaries, and she savoured her independence. Sure, she may not know what she was going to do with her life once she'd have to leave her parents' home, but she was certain that going to a deathmatch was never on the list. And here she was, pacing this majestic room, unable to focus on any single point.
Well, she thought bitterly, at least everyone will know you now. Attention was something Teddy craved, and she didn't mind it being of the negative kind. Attention was ultimately nothing but attention, and she was happy with being the name that was on every tongue, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. Who cared anyway? Her parents didn't. Her friends didn't. She didn't.
But now wasn't the time to contemplate on the past. Now wasn't the time to evaluate her life. No… action was needed now, and solid plan. She had to take some decisions now, right decisions. It wasn't something unimportant at stake, it was her life. Her life that she wanted to save at any cost.
Tired of pacing the room, she sat down on the sofa in exasperation. The seat was too soft for her and she sighed. Had she come in at any other occasion, she could have truly enjoyed being here. But at the moment, the luxurious room appeared to be mocking her at her fate.
No…!
It was a relief when the door opened and in stepped her parents. Teddy almost jumped to her feet but then decided against it. She wasn't one to show emotions, and running to her parents who didn't even care would be the biggest display of weakness, something that she couldn't afford. So she sat straight and eyes her parents curiously as they stepped towards her rather awkwardly. The two didn't get along with each other, or with Teddy. Outside home they were social butterflies, and ever loving but away from the prying eyes of the world, this family was not only dysfunctional, but also detached.
"Teddy," her mother said, sitting down on the sofa next to her. Before the Reaped girl could say a word, her mother wrapped her in an embrace. She felt as if something wet had fallen on her shoulder. This behaviour perplexed Teddy, who wasn't used to portrayals of love from her parents. She looked at her father, who was standing rather awkwardly. He tried to smile at her, but failed miserably.
"I-I'm sorry!" her mother said, her voice threatening to crack, "We should've had looked after you better. We should've taken care of you! But we didn't. I'm s-so s-sorry!"
"She's right," her father said softly, his eyes on the floor, "We should've tried to cooperate. I hate it that your mother and I could never make amends, and you had to suffer because of that. We failed as parents. I'm sorry Teddy. I really am."
Unsure of what to do, Teddy patted her mother's shoulder gently. This reaction was something new for her, as she would usually not respond in a semi-kind way, but her parents' emotional outburst was overwhelming her, and she didn't know what to do.
Wait…
"Mum, dad," she said as she released herself from her mother's hug.
"Yes child?"
"You really want me to come back, don't you?"
"What question is that?" her father exclaimed, "Of course, we do!"
"Then do me a favour."
"Tell us Teddy."
The tribute's mind was turning fast now. Her parents, despite the huge social gap, were on good terms with the mayor and other influential people from Twelve. If she could make use of these connections…
"Okay. I want you to make use of your contacts and persuade people from this District into sponsoring me."
"But-"
"No buts dad," Teddy said in a steely voice, "That's the least you can do to make up for everything. And that'll definitely improve my chances of getting back here alive."
"We'll try, honey," her mother whispered with a nod, "We'll surely try."
"Good, mum," Teddy replied with a smile. Hopefully that'd take care of sponsors.
Soon enough, it was time for her parents to leave. Teddy gave them a hug each, and reminded them of their task unabashedly. When they were out, she let out a deep breath and sat back down on the sofa. Hopefully, her parents would secure some sponsors for her. All they had to do was to sell her image as a potential victor, and half the task would be done.
The small, scrawny girl crossed her legs and closed her blue eyes. Pushing her dark hair from her fair face, she let out a deep sigh from her thin, cracked lips. She was certain nobody would visit her now. Her friends were pretty much like her. At least they tried to be. Hence, she had not a doubt in her mind that nobody would show up.
Therefore, when the door opened, it was no surprise that she was shocked. She opened her eyes hastily, only to look at Blake, her partner number… five? Six? Who knew? Teddy had long ago stopped counting her lovers. The relationships never lasted, and it was no news that she changed her boyfriends like clothes. However, she was shocked to see Blake there, in her room, to bid her goodbye.
"Blake?" she asked in surprise, getting to her feet.
The boy didn't look happy at all to be there. However, he simply smirked back at her.
"We may never get to meet again, Teddy," he said, "And so I had to tell you."
"Tell what?"
"That you're a ***. No way will you escape that arena alive. I hope you enjoy your time in the Capitol."
Teddy's mouth formed a thin line on hearing his words. Suddenly she smiled at him and replied, "Thank you so much, Blake. I'll certainly enjoy my time. You do too."
Smirking, the boy turned around to leave, when Teddy grabbed the nearby glass and threw it at his head. It shattered and fell on the floor, and a loud cry left Blake's lips.
"Security! Take this man away!"
Even as Blake held his head to stop the bleeding, the door burst open and in stepped tow Peacekeepers. The boy turned to Teddy furiously, holding his wound tightly.
"You think you're so cool and superior Teddy? Well then, mark my words. You're returning in a coffin. You got me? In a coffin!"
"Please remove this piece of junk from my eyesight."
There were many more obscenities that Blake shouted out even as the Peacekeepers dragged him out of the room roughly. Once they shut the door, Teddy sat down again. Well, if nothing else then this encounter was at least amusing.
"Oh Blake, you're so wrong" she said, closing her eyes again, her mind working on a strategy already, "I'll be returning alive. Just wait and watch."
Uh… hi all. Look who updated after two months. XD I'm really sorry for the delay, people, but things are rough. I won't give up on this, certainly, but I guess updates will be late. Not two months though, no that will too much. Anyway, how are you all?
So, how was this chapter? My writing is pretty rusty here, especially for Maurice. All these four tributes were some of the hardest of the lot, and I threw them all in that one chapter that I wrote after two months. Smart, right? I know. So what are your thoughts on these four? Who did you like the most? The least? I'm sorry if they weren't portrayed correctly. As I said, these were hard for me, and my writing is rusty from that two-month break. I'm honestly just happy that I wrote something.
Have a great day!