Reaping Day –Part 3
Esme's POV
Esme Platt. I felt numb. The second she spoke my name, I could feel the eyes on me. I could hear Elia somewhere to my left, her cry of protest getting louder and louder the closer I got to the stage. I didn't realize I was moving my feet. I couldn't feel anything. Nothing. Salia's chirpy voice rang in my ears.
''Come on now Esme, don't be shy, come along dear.'' She repeated. Elia's voice was fading, probably the peacekeepers taking her away, trying to calm her down. My mother would keep her calm. I don't know how she managed it, but my mother had always had a connection with Elia, a bond. I didn't understand it. My mother didn't look after us. She never had. Ever since the peacekeepers killed my father...
What had I said about death? Don't think about it. But I couldn't help the floods of memories hitting me like a tonne of bricks.
4 years ago. My father and I had been out in the woods, hunting. Illegal in Panem. But it hadn't stopped us. We needed the food, food that was so scarce in our district. ''You go one home now Ezzy, I'll meet you there. I just have to sell a few wild dogs we got. You know your mom wants the money.'' He smiled at me and I nodded. I understood. My mom liked to help people who had hurt themselves. She used medicines to heal them. But the medicine didn't buy itself did it? So we needed that money if we were going to keep up the business.
My father had walked in the direction of the town, carrying his hunting bag over his shoulder. I had walked straight home. I hadn't thought anything of it. The peacekeepers never caught him, even if he was walking through the centre of town, where the peacekeepers stand guard at every corner of the square.
That day had been different. About an hour after I had gotten home, there had been a knock at the door. It was Chassna, an old friend of my mothers. ''The square!'' she had shouted ''They're hanging him! The peacekeepers, t-they caught your father! They're hanging him!'' I hadn't said anything. My mother and Elia were following me, I could sense it. On reaching the square, I saw him. My father, standing in the gallows with a rope being secured around his neck. His eyes were closed, his lips moving. I knew he was praying. I heard a whimper behind me, and turned to see my mother with tears streaming down her face , her eyes closed. Elia was hiding her face in my mothers dress. The square filled with people, the familiar faces not looking at mine. I didn't look. I heard the movements, the strain on the rope as my father dropped, strangled. The gasps of the crowd. The paleness of their faces. I made myself look. My father was hanging, eyes closed, from the rope. The blood was drained from his face. His dead, pale skin was the last thing I saw before I passed out.
I didn't want to cry, so I refused to think of anything else. I was on the stage now, and Salia was already reading out the boy's name. Edward Masen, a boy my sister new well. The boy was only twelve, but he walked up onto the stage with his head held high. I could see the tears that wanted so badly to fall. I could feel his pain echoed through me. ''Please give a huge applause to this years tributes!'' Salia exclaimed. The crowd was silent. Who would applaud this. District 1 and 2 maybe, but never here. Especially not when a twelve year old boy was being forced to fight for his life. ''Now come on you two, shake hands, come on now.'' Salia said. I turned to Edward as he turned to me, and I took his hand in my own. He was shaking. I acted like I didn't notice, for his sake.
After we had shaken hands, Salia led us off the stage and down to a strange looking vehicle. I had seen these in the Capitol's programmes on tv, but I never thought I would be in one. I didn't care now. All I could think if was my family, and how I would never see my mother working again. I would never see my sister smile. The 15 minutes we get are on the train, and I had no doubt that my sister would not be smiling. I hadn't seen her after the peacekeepers had removed her from the square, but I was sure she was crying.
I paid no attention to Salia as we drove to the train station. ''Heads up, stand tall, look at the camera! We want the Capitol to see those lovely faces!'' She said happily. The Capitol. I loathed the Capitol. They were the ones who had started this. The Hunger Games. The fight to the death. They done it to make them see that we had no control, that they had all the power. And how did they prove their power? By throwing 12 year olds into an arena to fight to the death. It was worse if they were younger. 12, 13, 14. Children. Children that would probably be the first to die, thanks to the Capitol.
I didn't want to look at the camera's at the station. But they were everywhere, so I had to look. I forced my eyes up, and looked into the camera.
And I glared into the Capitol.
Note: I know that when the tributes talk to their families, they don't talk to them in the trains, but this is before the 74th Hunger Games, and things were a little different back then Thanks for reading! Reviews are cookies, and I love Cookies :D
