District 5 and 6 Reapings: Alborada and Noctuelle
-Lars McKinley, 18, District 5-
"Look at Teeny Weeny Lars!" Rasputin said, sneering at me. "Mama's special boy."
"What an Angel," Eliezer said, snorting as Clyde lifted me by the seam of my pants.
"Please stop!" I said desperately, but no matter how much thrashing I did, I couldn't escape his grip.
"Teeny Weeny Lars!" Levon said, from his position firmly against Rasputin's side. "So small and pathetic! Can't even tie his shoes!"
"Mama's Perfect Baby," cooed Eliezer, grazing a finger across my jaw, his lashes flickering to the side in disgust. "And yet without the woman you're helpless, aren't you?"
I saw Clyde stick some more chew in his cheek and knew that soon it was going to be all over the inside of my only storage bin.
"Please!"
"Listen to him beg," Rasputin said, leaning on the wall with a smirk. "He knows he's outmatched."
"Please! Not me!"
"Who else?" asked Eliezer, his gray-green eyes boring into mine. "Who else is there?" I noticed Levon tense at the question, the coward.
I got used to the beatings, usually the dread and foreboding was always the worst part.
The scene blurred out with the sound of my brothers' laughter on top of my wails, and I was left in darkness for a while.
I rolled over, but didn't wake up. Oh, how I wished I could wake up…
"Now here's a runt if I've ever seen one." Suddenly, I was standing with them. All of us together as brothers, looking down upon an outsider. He was a year older than me, but much smaller, thinner, and paler. His silver-looking gray eyes were wide in a plea for us to go easy on him.
Now Clyde was holding him up by his pants and I was on the other side, laughing. Levon was attached to Rasputin again, but this time Eliezer had an arm around my shoulders.
I had been in my cousin's position before, but I was so excited to stand with my brothers instead of against them that I joined in the fun. I was laughing as Glitch was whimpering and asking us to leave him alone.
That made me a coward too, of course. I was young, though, only six or seven, how was I supposed to know any better?
"You're just lucky that Dad convinced Mom to let you in," Ras snarled.
My cousin Glitch and his parents were kicked out after Dad died. Dad's cause of death was never decided on, but I had some suspicions that Mom had something to do with it. I couldn't have ever reported it, though, as if the Peacekeepers gave a shit.
"You're just here out of the goodness of Dad's heart! Taking our hard-earned money, eating our food, sleeping in our beds! As an outsider!" The rest of us agreed quickly.
"We're cousins!" Glitch pleaded, his eyes full of tears.
"You still don't belong," Eliezer said, the corner of his mouth going up.
"We know what happened," Rasputin said.
I had no idea, at the time. Mom didn't even give me the birds and the bees, I had to get it from Eliezer and Clyde, who were very descriptive and also had no fucking idea what they were talking about.
"How your parents were kicked out all because of you. And they were idiots to begin with, fooling around, but it all falls on you."
Fucking hypocrite. It almost made me laugh, if the memory wasn't so traumatizing.
Mom had never yelled like she did that day. She was flaming mad.
"You deadbeat! Failure! Do you have any idea the consequences for your action!? I always knew that you would amount to nothing, and I was proven right! You've failed, you're nothing but a fucking failure! You are not my son and you will leave my house!"
"Please, Mom." I had never seen Rasputin like that before. He was… He was Ras. He was the oldest. He was the figurehead. When in doubt all eyes looked to him. Now he was crying and on his knees begging.
"I said get OUT!" she slapped him, hard, right across the face.
The other brothers were only watching in shock. Levon ran to his room after that, his face in his hands. I just stumbled backwards, running into the warm mass of Clyde, who wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me in closer to him.
"Mom…" Rasputin looked up at her, in shock.
"You've disrespected me and your father! If only your father could see you now! You weak, spineless, good-for-nothing boy! You were never loved, not by anyone! You have no home here, no home anywhere!" She pulled him up by his shirt collar. He was scared. He was really scared.
"I'm sorry, Mom-"
"Don't call me that. You've lost the privilege of family."
He glanced back at us. I could hear Levon crying from his room. Eliezer was cleaning his glasses, head down. Clyde was quivering, I could feel it from where he'd pulled me close.
"Get out of here! Never let me see you again!" she shouted, so loud I was cringing and trying to cover my ears.
So, Rasputin left, and I've not seen him since.
After he was gone she turned back to us, her composure regained, her disposition just as chillingly gentle as always. "Sorry about that, Loves. Don't worry, that will never happen to you, so long as you make smart choices."
I was twelve years old. Do you think that consoled me at all?
And after Rasputin left, she was even more toxic than ever. Two years later, as soon as Clyde was 18, he left with his share of our father's inheritance. It was really just a relief that he was gone.
Eliezer liked being the oldest, but he avoided Levon at all costs so everything he did to torment me came completely from him.
Then, something weird happened. He started spending time with this rich kid called Algernon, and after that he had a total personality change. It seemed he was always in a good mood, and he left me alone a lot of the time. Sometimes he would even greet me and ask how my day was. It was so weird. I realized why when I came back from school one day and saw them snogging on the couch. I didn't say anything, though. Eliezer took his share of our dead dad's shit and left in the middle of the night one night when he was 18, only leaving a note that he was going. I assume that Algy had something to do with the decision to go.
That just left me and Levon. Levon never acknowledged me or talked to me, instead preferring to avoid me like the plague.
That was better, though, now that we had rooms to ourself he couldn't hear me crying as I was trying to figure out what the hell I was feeling for York. We just left each other alone. He still hated me, though. I could feel his glare on me when Mom fussed over me, or when she was praising me. He just moved out a few months ago.
I didn't think life being the only one left in this damn house would be so hard. Now, I was the only object of my mother's affection left, and she was such a toxic and horrible bitch. She was hateful and spent all her time telling me that I was a failure and I couldn't do anything without Mama's love and affection, causing me to beg her for validation. She knew how to wear me down and she would never hesitate to do it. I was afraid of her, I hated it when she touched me and when she would say she loves me. I would believe it when she said it, even though I knew it wasn't true. She forced me on my knees, breaking down at her feet, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. She kept me there, she had an iron grip on me. It seemed I'd never be able to escape her.
And, of course, it couldn't have just ended there. Of course not.
"Do you know how pretty you look when you're fighting?" Casimir shifted on his elbows.
"I don't care," I said, crossing my arms.
"York wants his two best friends to get along, Lars. Just think of how ecstatic he'd be if we were dating!"
"Stop. Please." I'd never been hit on before, it was making me really uncomfortable.
"But you're so pretty. You play hard-to-get, huh?"
"No. I just… Casimir, please. Just back off. I-I need space." At those words he only came closer, causing me to step back.
"Scared of me?" His eyes danced with amusement. "Lars McKinley is afraid?"
"No, I'm just not interested." Not in him. Not at all in him. I barely even wanted to get to know the guy, but we were pushed together by my best friend York. The one I'm really interested in, I guess. I've been too scared to think about that, though.
"It's York, isn't it?"
"No. I'm not gay."
"You're not? That can change."
"Stop. Casimir. Please."
"I love it when you say my name," he said, taking another step closer and cupping my jaw in his hand.
"Step. Back." I clenched my fists. Instead, though, he took another step closer.
Too close.
I snapped, shoving him off of me.
Suddenly, though, my voice wasn't mine anymore. It morphed and changed into… Hers.
"Get off of me! I'm not a faggot, the gays are ruining our society and I would never be a part of that! A healthy relationship is between a man and a woman and the homosexuals are invading the sanctity of the world we live in! It's gross! It's a lifestyle that is not right!"
My vision blurred in panic but I noticed him looking shocked. I ran to a mirror on the wall but when I looked into it I didn't see Lars, the face I saw staring back at me belonged to her.
"No! No! I don't want to become her!" The words I said came out in her voice. The voice of my biggest nightmare, coming from my lips.
I opened my eyes, gasping, quivering and covering in sweat.
Fuck, was I screaming? She'll know if I was.
I reached up and wiped the beads of sweat off my forehead. Another day. Another reaping. My last one.
It was early, really early, but I got out of bed anyways. I knew that she wouldn't wake up until 5:30, so I had some time. I wrapped one of my torn-up blankets around my shoulders and went out to the tiny family room. When I turned on the TV, I recognized the setting and the Arena that could only mean that my cousin was about to be tortured to death. Wonderful.
I decided that watching innocent kids collapse before my eyes in a puddle of blood didn't appeal to me, and turn the television off.
I sat on the raggedy, scratchy old couch as the room lit up with the rising summer sun. It was humid and sticky and hot, and the sweating didn't help, but it was a little bit peaceful here.
There were times that I could've believed that my brothers and I could get along. That is, until they all left me.
They were all able to leave because she didn't mind them. They weren't her precious, her youngest, her Lars. They were able to go and I would be trapped here forever until the bitch died. I couldn't wait for the day, which made me feel guilty because she was my mother. But at the same time, she was not truly my family. She didn't love me. She made me think that everything was my fault, just like we all did to Glitch so long ago.
I looked around the dusty room, listening to the quiet tick of the only functioning clock in our house. I sat there for a while, half-asleep in the calm, peaceful place. Sometimes the old shack really felt like home. Too bad it was simultaneously my biggest nightmare. I wondered if I would ever find a place to call home that I wasn't afraid of.
I heard footsteps coming out to the family room, as I've trained myself to listen for.
"You're awake," she said. My mother was all dressed up in her reaping clothes already. I looked at the woman I resembled, also the woman I despised. Her dark, red-tinted hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Her eyes, the same brown as mine, were both gentle and cold at the same time. Her jawline was square and her skin was brown, like mine.
She loved me because I resembled her. My brothers hated me for it. And, well, I hated it too.
"I saved you a special reaping treat, my dear Lars," she trilled softly, her voice gentle and inviting. Anyone looking in from the outside would think her to be a normal, hard-working woman that loved her family. Only myself and my brothers knew any better.
I got up and shuffled to the kitchen, where she had a small pastry that looks a bit like a croissant.
"It's an apple turnover, Dear. It has sugar and cinnamon on it, see? I worked quite a long time to be able to have it for my precious baby's last reaping."
"Uh, thanks."
She reached a hand out, brushing a loose piece of hair behind my ear. At her touch, I tensed. These hands had just as easily dealt out pain and abuse, to me and to Rasputin, and maybe to the others as well.
"Go ahead then, take a bite. It's just for you, after all. The only one of Mama's boys that didn't leave her." I felt her kiss the top of my head, tensing more. The same hair she kissed, she had pulled before, forcing me to follow her.
I picked up the pastry and took a bite. I didn't get much of the apple the first bite, just the crust and sugar. The taste was sweet, extremely sweet, but also delicious. The next bite I got some of the brownish glaze, the chunks of apple adding a bit of tartness to the mix and making it even more pleasant. I wished that I could've been in a more pleasant place, eating this delicious treat for breakfast. The memories associated with the sweet taste would be too sour to enjoy it any other time.
"You still have to get dressed, Dear!"
"I know." I put the rest of the small pastry in my mouth, enjoying the explosion of flavor onto my tongue. We were dirt poor, so I very rarely got to eat things with flavor. I couldn't imagine how expensive it must have been to buy a real pastry with real fruit and real sugar on it. And how far she must have gone to get it, as well. It was times like this I thought she did love me, and felt bad for wishing her early demise. She smiled at me like I was valuable. Like I meant something.
"Did you enjoy it?" she asked, watching me.
"I did." I lick the sugar off my fingers. "Thank you."
"You're very welcome. Now dear, go get dressed."
I nodded and stood up, pushing my chair in and walking upstairs. I felt her eyes on me the whole way. I saw the clothes she wanted me to wear laid out on my bed. They were the only nice clothes I had, and I was pretty sure they had been passed down from brother to brother through the years.
I put my arms into the off-white dress shirt and buttoned it up, pulling the khaki pants up around it so it was tucked in neatly. I slipped the brown belt on, worn and tattered from brothers of all different body types using it, and pulled it tight. Finally I ran a hand through my hair, making sure that my bangs didn't fall into my eyes. That was really all I could do to look presentable.
I went to my bed and dug in the covers, finding the piece of cloth I was looking for and folding it neatly, sneaking it into my pocket. She hated it, but I refused to go out of the house without it. I figured I could just put it on after I left. The only way she'd see me in it is if I were reaped.
I went back downstairs, where she was waiting for me.
"Oh, Lars… You're so grown up, Dear." she walked over to me and kissed my forehead, causing me to draw away. Who could forget the pain she'd caused me?
"I want to go meet my friends before it starts," I said. I couldn't have cared less about my friends at this moment, but the excuse was the best I had.
"Of course. Give Mama a last hug before you go." She wrapped her arms around me and I hugged back, knowing that it would only last longer if I didn't.
I let go when she did and turned to leave.
"And Lars?"
I turned back around, trying not to scowl.
"You don't have that ugly black thing with you, do you?"
"No." I'd gotten good at lying.
"That's a boy. That ugly thing has really got to go. It's so disgusting and old." I was about to tell her another ugly thing that had really got to go and was so disgusting and old, but I held my tongue.
"I'll see you afterwards," I said quickly, walking out the door.
"I love you Lars!" she called after me. I left the house and closed the door behind me without looking back.
I wandered after that. I didn't really want to go see York and hear him blabber about this amazing and smoking hot girl he had a thing for. I definitely didn't want to run into Casimir. There was no one else I cared to see. I walked from store to store, without the money to buy anything.
Once I was sure she hadn't followed me, I took the old, oil-stained black bandana out of my pocket, opened it up, and tied it around my neck. I didn't care what it looked like, I couldn't remember a time that I'd left the house without it and I wasn't about to start. It was stained with oil from my work at the factory, trying to earn some money for us to be able to eat. It was heavy work, they forced me on it because I was young and a man.
I kept walking until I heard footsteps charging at me, quickly turning around with my fists raised, as I'd practiced with Casimir, who was teaching me how to fight before he started coming onto me like a creep.
It was just York, though.
"Hey Lars!" he put up a hand, his face set in a smile, his dark eyes lit up with optimism.
"Hey," I said, trying not to scowl (but I was anyways).
"You okay? You seem kind of…"
"Just nervous about the reaping." As I said, I'd gotten good at lying.
I really wasn't nervous about the reaping at all. What were the chances of more than one McKinley being reaped so close together? Pretty slim. It was my last one, and I didn't take very much tesserae (that responsibility fell on Ras, then Clyde, then Eliezer, then Levon, each one because he was the oldest at the time. She didn't let me take any, though). Besides, maybe it'd be good if I was reaped. I'd been considering just dying and getting away from her, and that would be the perfect opportunity to pretend there was fight left it me instead of dying like a coward.
"Ah, yeah. I am too. But I'm more nervous for after the reaping I think. That's when I'm going to tell Fantine how I feel!" he smiled, looking lovesick. Damn, how I wished he'd look at me like that.
"Yeah. Well, we should get going," I said, as the clock chimed. Luckily, Casimir was nowhere in sight. I hurried to the hoard of teens waiting to be signed in, and York followed. We both got blood taken and walked together to the section for 18-year-old boys. I thought I was home free when his voice came out of nowhere, causing me to jump.
"Hey!"
"Oh, hi Casimir!" York chirped cheerfully. Damn him. How could he not see how much Casimir sucked?!
"Hey," I grumbled.
"Wow, Lars really is nervous. You really spooked him!" York laughed playfully and punched me lightly on the shoulder. I forced a laugh, but wasn't amused. Truth is, I'm still horrified of Casimir, and horrified of the bullshit that came out of my own mouth when he pushed me too far.
Casimir's laugh boomed. "Don't worry, old pal! You'll be fine. It's our last one, after all! Maybe afterwards you can both give me a victory smooch!"
York laughed, unaware of the malice in his voice. "Cas, you know I'm straight, you big dopey flirt!" Casimir laughed, but only I could see his true colors.
"You know I'm straight too," I said, my voice with more of an edge. Casimir just hit my other shoulder as the reaping began.
The mayor, Algernon, (who I called Algy because that's how he introduced himself when he was messing around with my brother), started the reaping with a few remarks. He was a new mayor, young, 21 just like Eliezer, and looked horribly upset and nervous. Less than five years ago he was standing in the crowd of kids, after all. He finished his speech quickly and scurried back to his seat, his blond hair only slightly disheveled.
Our escort, an old bitch named Jacqueline Rawlings stepped up to the stage. "Welcome to the reaping for the 27th annual Hunger Games!" she squealed. That horrible woman. She was decorated in orange and yellow and gold and was all too perky.
She showed us the video, watching it as if it never got old. Then, she went over to choose a name of the girl.
"Rai Raines!"
I snorted to myself. Rai Raines. Who in their right mind would name their child Rai Raines? The girl came from the 17-year-old section. Her eyes were fiery as she walked slowly up to the stage, keeping on a resting bitch face. She had brown skin and wavy black hair that went down to her mid back or so. She was wearing a blouse and skirt, and worn-out nice shoes. She certainly didn't look happy to be there.
"Very good!" Jacqueline said, smiling. "Now for the males!" She walked over, thrust her hand in, and pulled out a name without swishing them around at all. "Lars McKinley!"
York gasped next to me. His eyes filled with tears. I shrugged it off, giving him one last look as I started up to the stage. I kept my expression the same, as I always have when I was in danger. I walked up the steps and met Rai's intense gaze with one just as intense.
Jacqueline felt the tension, very obviously as she closed out with a weak, "Everyone, your tributes, Lars McKinley and Rai Raines!"
Rai thrust her hand out at me and continued to stare me down. I took her hand with a strong grip, which she matched as we shook.
Then we let go, turned around, and walked into the Justice Building.
~.~.
-Rook Nouvelle, 17, D6-
I rolled over to check the wall clock, lit dimly by early morning light. 7:35. I hadn't slept at all over the course of the night, just drifted in and out of echoes of last night's disaster.
"You failed. Rook, fuck, you piece of shit, you put off your last chance until it was too late and you blew it!"
I drew an unsteady breath, feeling my ability to breathe constrict.
"You know what's going to happen now! We're all going to starve and wither away! We could barely support our family to get to this point and I just got demoted. We won't survive the winter." My mother's hysterical voice clipped and seared my ears with pain, a ghost of the explosion it had been the night prior.
The horrible moment where I pushed through the crowd of students at school to see the list of people moving to the honors track of classes, the one shot I had at moving up in status in the District-and my name was not on it.
My grades alone were not enough to boost me to the honors classes, that much I knew. I needed a standout quality and my card to play was my artistic hobbies.
There had been a contest the week before to paint a self-portrait in any meaning of the phrase an artist could take it. If I won, it would have been enough. That was the glimmer of hope I had pinned so much on...and in that moment it crashed to the ground at terminal velocity, in a death spiral.
That single fucking failure had damned my family.
I snapped back to the present, focusing on steadying my breathing again. It was quiet, the light drizzle of rain providing the perfect white noise to fall asleep to. But it was Reaping Day. So I got up to clean the mess I had left behind last night.
I started with the shredded paper and ruined canvases. They would be pretty easy to replace, but the I would continue to find tiny shreds of paper all over my room for a long time from now. I decided to pick up the larger pieces first, and worry about the miniscule bits later. I gathered them into a plastic trash bag, bit by bit.
I picked up the tubes of paint scattered about the room, placing them in rainbow order out of habit. Roy G. Biv. Red, pink, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, beige, white, and black. Perfect. I kicked a colored pencil on the ground on accident, and realized they were rolling around on the tile floor, all out of their case. I put them in rainbow order as well.
I took a moment to size up the mess. Paint splattered nearly every tile, the walls, my arms, the ceiling, my bed and the ruined paper and canvases, of course. To salvage it would be...difficult. There would be a sizeable amount of hot water and soap needed. I found myself unable to muster the effort or will to care, about the mess or the hunger gnawing at my stomach. I would have to eat something before the 9:30 Reaping regardless.
Looking over the ugly, rash blotches of color made it hard to believe I had once loved pouring my soul into it. The torn sketches and paintings that once made up my portfolio suggested I was able to accomplish something respectable with these tools and understood how to manipulate color to my will. That perception couldn't be further from the truth.
I slunk out of my room to the bathroom across from it and realized the cause of the throbbing sting on my forearms. A bloody X-acto knife gleamed, balanced precariously atop the sink. Honestly, I thought all the red was paint. But this made much more sense. I sank to my knees. Another anxiety attack had completely overrode my control. It was only a matter of time before it would kill me someday.
There were four thin cuts on each arm, with a gouge on my left arm from a deeper, jagged cut gone wrong. My hand must've slipped.
We still had a little rubbing alcohol. I diluted it with some water to make more of the pricy substance. If my parents found out I was doing this...I couldn't finish the thought.
I hissed through my teeth as I cleaned out my cuts. At least they were shallow, barring the one. After the first cut was sanitized, a numbness settled over me. And with horror, I realized that I didn't care that my family was going to die in a few months. Or maybe I did. I didn't feel much of anything at that point.
A little voice in the back of my head told me I should probably clean the bathroom tile stains. Surprisingly, they came off cleanly with cold water. The little voice persisted, telling me to clean the rest of the blood off of me. By the time I finished it was almost 8:30. My family wasn't out of bed yet. One small blessing. Last night they pushed and pushed and pushed, and it shoved me over the edge. I felt volatile, despite the numbness. It was like hitting freefall. And at some point, I was going to hit the ground.
The little voice told me to get changed. I put a long-sleeved shirt on, and jeans with half a dozen tears and holes in them. For some reason I was still going to the Reaping, but I guess it was because that little voice of reason said I needed to. My little brother was still too young to worry, and my parents too exhausted. I knew they slept soundly last night. I could hear their snores every half hour.
I munched a small piece of cheese along with a couple slices of bread, sipping water as needed. Luckily, the rain had stopped...I found myself unable to care either way, honestly, it just felt like the right thing to think.
It was a twenty-five minute walk to the plaza. Plenty of people were already there, laughing, wandering about, talking, explaining, living.
"Hey, Rook." The only person who would ever remotely choose to spend the precious pre-Reaping time with me rounded a corner and trotted over to me energetically. Grackle Cory...just Grack to me.
"Hey." I answered faintly. Grack instantly deflated, their face lighting up with concern. They reached out to my upper arm, trying to show some kind of support but I instantly flinched away. Somehow Grack had chosen one of the cuts to touch.
"If there's anything I can do...I can only imagine what the nuclear war last night was like…" they bit their lip and played with their dark hair nervously. Grack was never good with the whole sympathy thing and neither was I, but it was nice of them to try.
"I don't really want to talk about it…" I mumbled. Grack nodded with more understanding than I thought possible. Who knows if they understood, but I didn't have the energy to figure it out.
"Why don't you get yourself together and we'll do something nice after the Reaping?" Grack tried for a smile and I felt something passing for one form on my face. They squeezed my shoulder reassuringly and went off to one of the 17 year old sections. They had already checked in.
When the Peacekeeper pricked my finger I felt a shudder pass through me. It was a good thing this would be over fast.
Within minutes of sitting down in 17 year old females' section, the Reaping began. Our escort this year was a mess of bright neon colors that hurt my eyes to look at directly. She introduced herself as Prudentia Bethlem, and went on a flashy speech about the Capitol. I barely had the energy to function today, much less the energy to focus and understand what this loud, abrasive woman wanted with us today. She carried the microphone too close to the speaker when she fished a name out of the male's bowl and caused a static pop to blow out everyone's eardrums.
"Sorry, sorry, just wanted to make sure you were all awake!" she haughtily apologized, fishing far too long for a name. "And this year's boy is...Felix Hartell! Unless there are any volunteers?" Not a single voice issued forth in response. Felix stumbled to the stage, a small boy that wouldn't last long judging by his wide, shell-shocked eyes.
While I stared at the ash-stained boy and his grey beanie, she called the name of this year's female. It didn't hit me what she was saying until she repeated it.
"...Rook Nouvelle? She is here, right?" I jolted back to reality and froze instantly. The firm grip of a Peacekeeper's hand on my arm sending pain shooting up my arm thawed my daze completely.
"No, no stop!" my voice rose frantically. "I-I hurt my arms, I'll go, I'll go, just stop!" I couldn't see the Peacekeeper's face underneath their helmet but I saw the slight tilt of confusion to their head. They rolled my sleeve up to my elbows and stepped back in shock, suddenly realizing what they had done.
It sunk in. I had been reaped. And with the gears turning in my mind, I thought I would take advantage of the Peacekeeper's ignorance. I turned to the stage and rolled both of my sleeves up as far as they would go while I walked, the numb fog I had been engulfed in finally fading away. I could not ignore the whispers and soft gasps at the state of my arms, but maybe they would work in my honor. I wasn't hiding them, after all.
"Oh my dear, welcome. We'll get you something for your cuts after." Prudentia tsked almost motherly at me. I glanced down and realized the new cuts from last night were bleeding open and the pain felt as far away as I had been from myself all morning. Her heels clacked off the stage and she stopped, avoiding raising our arms like normal. She probably didn't want to get infected by all the blood diseases she imagined I had.
"District 6, your tributes for the 27th Games!" There were a few claps. I must look tougher than I thought, standing on a stage with my pain bared for all to see, dripping onto the stage. And after a moment of silence, I was whisked away to the Justice Building.
Grack was the first one to burst into the small room I was shown into.
"Rook, I-I'm sorry-" they blubbered. I waved my hands in a dismissive gesture. "I didn't know, your arms-" I shook my head again.
"It's alright. It'll be okay, Grack." I even managed a small smile, feeling more like myself than I had in a long time. "I've got a plan. I'm going to save you and my family." Grack's dark eyes shot wider open with disbelief.
"You….? Rook, you…." Grack smiled, trying so hard not to look sad. "Alright. Don't get cocky, although I don't think you would. Keep a level head and I know you can do it." I felt a tattered bit of hope rise inside my chest. I would not let this one crash. "And Rook?" They smirked and laughed, as loudly as the bird Grackle shared their name with. "Try to get your stylist to put you in something with feathers. Please. Bird puns are the bomb!" They held their fist out to me expectantly.
"Of course!" I bumped their fist and felt a giddiness about everything. This was meant to be. This was my second chance. Grack was spirited out, but I wasn't allowed to leave yet. It took me a sober minute to realize they were giving my family time to come. I felt my hopes deflate slightly at the prospect of facing my family after the spectacle I put up. I would have liked to have seen my brother one more time but...
No one came.
~.~.
A/N: Celtic and Legend here again! So we ran into a bit of a issue and by bit I mean a big one. We're upping the rating because of the stuff we planned being….explicit, as you can see from the dark turn of this Reaping, even. So just so you know we're going to bump up the rating to M. If you're not comfortable with that, it's totally fine and we understand, don't feel the need to keep on reading if it's going to impact you negatively. Yeah! Plus, we will put trigger warnings and such before the more gorey or triggering parts, so if you want to read anyways you can know what to skip. Anywhoo, we hope you're enjoying Monochrome so far! This marks the halfway point for the Reapings, whoah! If you enjoyed it please leave a review telling us how you liked the characters and what you think! Constructive criticism is always welcome here! Right! Alright, I think that's everything….until next time! (which hopefully will be soon)
