District 12 Awakening: These Streets
These Streets by Bastille
These streets are yours, you can keep them
In my mind it's like you haunt them
And passing through I think I see you
In the shapes of other women…
Calloway Echo (21) Son of President Seraphina Echo and Victor Reed Linden: D7 Victor of the 78th Games
"The tributes are ready Calloway," the young scientist tells me as she opens the door to the Justice Building.
"Yes. I'm quite nervous." I chuckle as she opens the door to the small laboratory the Capitol had installed for the Quarter Quell. All I can think about is the tributes I must mentor, for the inevitable doom for the poor District's forgotten children. "Thank you so much. I can take over from here."
"Of course. Good luck." The scientist carefully shuts the rotting and molded wood door that looks like it will collapse any second. In matter of fact, the whole building looks like it could collapse any second.
After the Mockingjay Rebellion, Capitol engineers came and helped build District 12 to its faltering stature, using the destroyed materials that withered away with the District 12 bombing twenty-five years ago. My grandfather had not wanted to spend any money on the restoration, he would've let them starve to death but just wanted their annual two tributes for the Games because apparently twenty-two wouldn't be enough. Not like these District 12 tributes ever had a chance, just casualties and I'm left to carry the pieces of their existence. Forever lost, spiraling and dissipating in the dark void of darkness my mother continues to push.
An exhausted sigh escapes my chapped lips as I look up from the dirtied ground to the worn and weathered equipment around me, cheap and poorly made. I stride across the three metal tables which lie the three children I will mentor, a wispy white sheet billowing over their bodies, encasing the horrors they have already experienced.
"Carella Bray."
The name rolls off the tip of my tongue as I open her manila folder revealing her medical records and past history. My eyes glaze over a girl with long brown hair which is streaked with golden strands which highlight her dark grey eyes. Skimming through her medical history reveals bruises and scratches that her own father inflicted on her. Further inspection reveals that she suffered major hemorrhaging due to rape and child birth at fifteen. She was a tribute of the 90th Games and committed suicide in the final 4.
I clip her manila folder to the end of her bed and continue on to find my next tribute: Bram Riles. His picture reveals a malnourished Seam boy whose face is tinted with ash. Skimming over his rather dull history, my eyes catch the scientist's scrawl at the bottom of the page.
'Further inspection of Bram reveals that the serum enhanced his physical and mental state. This could be that malnourishment stunted his growth during puberty.'
Fishing around his past Games experience, I notice the faint whirl of a machine coming to life on a monitor. I look up to see a blue light begin to fill the large screen and turn black, it soon flashes white and many numbers and letters begin to fly across the screen. Suddenly the screen fades and glows a warm beige showing medical stats such as heart rate, oxygen levels, and other science jargon.
"Hmm… may-"
I don't have time to finish my sentence when a faint gasp catches my attention. I glance down to see a pair of steel grey eyes staring back at me.
"Agghhh!"
I jump back several feet and fall, hitting my back on the edge of Carella's metal bed. Pain shoots through my entire shoulder blade and the vibrations send sharp pulsations throughout my body.
"Ooogghh…"
Bram begins to lift himself off the metal table and shudders, his eyes dilating in and out of focus as he throws his legs over the edge of the table. He begins to shake, the tremors rhythmically move the metal coffin from which he laid and begins to sob. The choked, hoarse screams begin to fill the room and send me out of my dazed state.
"aaaaaAAAAHHHH!"
His screams are primitive, filled with fear and hopelessness. Screams of anguish and terror that carried him to the grave. I dash towards him and embrace him, letting him sob into my shoulder, letting him mourn. Despite how old he may look, he is still a kid.
"Hey. You're okay."
He sniffs softly and just rests there, his head on my shoulder and his legs still dangling over the table. I slowly back away from him and open the door several meters away, his family awaits him. Just his parents and older brothers, he'd be happy to meet them again after the evil he has witnessed.
"Bram. Your family is here to see you." I clear my throat and gesture to the door. His grey eyes perk up at the gesture and he slowly rises, carefully maneuvering his way around the other two who still have yet to wake to this new hell.
He finally reaches the door and looks at me and smiles, a sort of smile that's bittersweet, one of happiness and sorrow that cannot be untangled in the web of his past. It hurts to smile back, knowing that he could be dead in two weeks. I give him the best smile I could manage and watch as his older brothers appear from the doorway, their faces lit with relief and radiance. The happiness that Bram's face gives cannot be compared to, he takes in a sharp breath and begins to tear up. I leave them be, not wanting to spoil the moment. Turning around, I find Carella standing upright next to the large monitor and scanning through her Games, her eyes puffy and bloodshot.
"Carella…"
She snaps her head back and grabs the scalpel on the counter next to her and points it at me, her bloodshot eyes wild and deranged. Can't blame her though, I'd be pretty fucked up if I woke up after dying in the Games.
"It's okay. I'm just here to hel-"
"SHUT UP! I-I-I'm gonna…" she trails off and slumps over, falling on her knees and dropping the sharp instrument at her side. She brings her hands to her face, her small frame quaking with each heart wrenching sob that escapes her.
If those District 12 brats start to act up with 'feelings', stick them with this.
My mother's words begin to echo (no pun intended) in my head as I feel for the small syringe in the breast pocket of my blue shirt. Supposedly this helps with the anxiety the tributes experience when they awaken. I forgot about this for Bram and well… I don't trust my mother with medication after she slipped pills in River's and I's drinks that led to River's pregnancy, well, not for anything so…
"I-I just want to go to sleep again…"
Her sobs have ceased and all that sounds from her are sharp hiccups and several whimpers as she returns herself to the metal table. "Don't want to wake up…"
Carella's eyes droop and close often, she just sits there, not knowing the reality of her situation and stares at the red, jagged scars that run across the inside of her forearms.
"Mom…"
A raspy whisper calls from the corridor and I find myself face to face with a small girl with long, dirty long hair and striking Seam grey eyes. I turn my attention back to Carella whose face begins to contort in pain and joy. Her daughter.
"Selene… my baby."
The two embrace and sob in each other's chests, the reunion heartfelt and something out of an old movie. Selene guides Carella to the small meeting room across the hall where an older woman waves and cries out in happiness. As soon as the pair leave the room I quietly await my last tribute to awaken.
Orion Hades.
His profile reveals a 15 year old boy with dark brown hair and hazel eyes, average height and build. A few freckles dot his tanned face, a few scars also. My heart stops as I flip to the first page of his Games history.
District 12 male tribute of the 1st Hunger Games.
The very first to die in the Games.
Cause of Death: Multiple stab wounds to the abdomen
Wow.
There's so much I'd like to ask him, so much history buried within him. Living through the Dark Days and the Capitol's rising power, tribute of the very 1st Hunger Games. I'd hate to stress him out when he awakens but… no. Bringing up the past could hurt him, I couldn't live with myself knowing that.
The familiar sound of a monitor whizzes to life and my heart begins to race, the adrenaline searing through me. Orion's eyes begin to open, a warm hazel and come to life. His breathing is surprisingly relaxed, steady as his chest rises and falls with the newfound life restored to him. He simply stares at the ceiling, not hyperventilating or sobbing, screaming or hysteric. I stand dumbfounded. The other Victors must be anxious with their awakening tributes, especially River. She doesn't exactly do well with new people… most in general.
"Hello."
His voice is soft and hesitant. Almost cautious as he begins to stand, the hospital gown fitting loosely around his torso. His eyes dart away from mine and a faint crimson begins to glow from his cheeks.
"I'm Calloway, your mentor for the 4th Quarter Quell."
"4th Quarter Quell?" He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head slightly to the right.
"Yes. The 100th Hunger Games…"
He nods calmly and stares at his monitor, like the other two. I'm still struck by how calm he's being, almost like he's okay with it.
"How are you so calm? Your partners were quite… alarmed."
He shrugs and sits himself at the black couch in the corner of the room, his body rigid and timid. "I kinda expected something like this to happen…"
"What?!"
"Intuition, you could say."
This kid just keeps surprising me by the minute. I stride over to him and plop down on the far side of him, making sure to keep my safe distance with him just in case he decides to go crazy.
"Where are they?"
"Ummm…." Meeting with their families, but what do I tell him? He has no living relatives as far as Capitol records go.
"Saying goodbyes?"
I bow my head. "Yeah."
He gives me a reassuring nod. "Its fine, my family's long dead." The bluntness in his voice shakes me to the core. Very interesting kid, more so than others I've met in my life.
"Who's President now?"
"… Seraphina Echo."
"Not President Snow?"
"No. He died 25 years ago by- … I'll tell you more on the train, okay?"
"Okay."
He's missed out on a lot the past century and considering everything that's happen since then I wouldn't want to over bear him with so much. The terror instilled within the Districts after the 1st Games, the formation of the Career pack before the 4th Games, the 1st and 2nd Quarter Quells, the ill-fated 74th Games, the 3rd Quarter Quell and the Mockingjay Rebellion. To top it all off the execution of all the surviving Victors and rebels, including their families. Surprising how much happens in a century…
"So Calloway… what Games did you win?" His eyes seem to stare into mine, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted slightly.
"I'm just replacing Hay-" Crap, he doesn't know Haymitch. "A Victor who passed away several months ago."
"Oh." He looks down and frowns. Shit, what if he doesn't believe in me! Crap. Think Calloway… can't give too much away about your identity so soon… "M-my father was a Victor so he taught me everything he knew." I give him a smile, might've came off as nervous but a smile nonetheless. "I'm gonna help you to the best of my abilities, Orion."
He simply stands, tugging down on his hospital gown and slowly walks over to the small window and gazes at the pallid landscape that he once called home. "What happened? It used to be so… colorful."
District 12. The poorest District and the bleakest in Panem. So much was burnt to ash that the remnants have taken resident in the once cerulean sky. Congealing and suffocating during the winter, and in the summer a light film dots above the citizens heads. The meadow is nearly dead, dry grass sprinkles the field sparsely and animals nearly extinct. The Seam, stricken with poverty and hunger, is statistically higher than ever before. Abortion, cannibalism, and thievery are the norm here.
Orion lets out a strangled whimper and collapses into the loveseat, sobbing into his hands. "I'm so scared…" he muffles and trails off as I stride over to the window, my brown leather bag slapping against my thigh. I quickly remember the old camera my mother had given me for my birthday several years back and feel the sleek, cool feel of it as I reach for it buried deep within my things. I don't really care for it anyway and was planning on buying a new one for River next month…
"Here. Why don't you take pictures… capture the moment?" He looks up with red and strained eyes. I pull out the small device and place it in the palms of his hands, a perfect fit. "Let's go outside, your District partners should be done with their goodbyes…"
He sniffs and quickly rubs his eyes, a smile stretching across his face as he holds up my camera. "Okay." He retreats to the door and casually walks down the hallway, his posture upright and hopeful. Carella and Bram exit the meeting rooms with sad smiles, ones of false hope and dreams unfulfilled. I guide the pair to the Justice Building's front doors and welcome the scent of ash and fire as it swirls around me. I squint my eyes as the morning sun blinds me for several long seconds as they adjust to the semi- brightness of the ominous District.
These streets, with broken pavements and shattered windows and homes gather around me as to torment me, an everlasting reminder of the horrors that affect District 12. A District long neglected and hated for Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire. What she symbolized, and what so many others wanted. To be free of the wrath of the Capitol, free of corrupt leaders and striving for their natural rights: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. This District never had a chance. Not before my mother and even after, maybe it's too late to save this area of the bad hand dealt.
The teens stare with wide eyes as the sun hits their skin, a beautiful warmth spreading throughout them unlike the cold dark soil that encased their bodies when they were put to rest. Despite the heavy air, a fresh breeze wafts through the town square. The citizens do not roam the narrow and decaying streets, taking refuge in the shelter they could find out in the Seam or abandoned buildings. The town square holds an untold darkness long rooted here, and yet the teens smile as the truths of the world encase them. I hope with this second chance that they make the most of it, no matter the outcome. Whether they slip back into oblivion or face immortal terror and horrors for the sins they must commit to live, I know deep in my heart that they face impending doom.
The train sounds in the distance, low and bellowing. Transporting us to the Capitol, the place I have known since a mere child, a place of untold horrors and atrocities. A place many look for hope, riches, and happiness…
A small flash of color catches my eye as the teens run up to the train's platform, a bright yellow dandelion that lightly sways. A single weed amongst dirt and rock, against a faded building. The wall that contrasts the dandelion is etched with carvings made by most likely a nail and clearly reads…
Genesis
A gush of wind picks up and the dandelion's pollen like petals begin to scatter in a majestic way, swirling away in different areas as the wind carries it. The journey of the seeds are unknown and uncertain. A smile makes its way to my lips and stays as a new hope begins to shine upon the dreaded District.
District 12. The home of fire and hope.
A/N: Here are your District 12 tributes: Bram, Carella, and Orion, along with their mentor: Calloway Echo. I hope to post at least once a week, if not every two weeks. Things will be starting to get busier with AP classes and concert band.
Which tribute is your favorite and least from first impressions?
What do you think of Calloway?
Which District should I write next District 8, 9, or 4?