I could never forget that night.
The night, well into my second year at the academy, when I learned the truth about my parents. About myself. About Kieryan. The night when I held a dying girl's hand until she fell asleep, never to awaken again. The night when I finally realised that II couldn't give up. I couldn't let them win.
The night when I decided to fight.
I'm nearing the end of my seventh year at the academy, now. That night was a long time ago, but it's still the reason I get up every morning.
I honestly can't remember the next day; I just remember being shaken awake, curled protectively around Sara's body, and gently lead to the sickbay. I think they questioned me about Sara's death, gave Cato, Clara and Dylan a 'harsh' punishment (though, in my opinion, no punishment is harsh enough to be traded for an innocent girl's life), then left me a few days to recover from the trauma.
Sara's body was sent to her family to be buried.
I'm not ashamed to admit that seeing her body, so tiny in death, made tears flow down my cheeks.
I'm going to pick up the story from near the end of my fourth year, as my third was fairly uneventful.
One morning, at the training centre, Kieryan made an announcement.
"At the end of your fourth year, you will be tested on what you have learned at the academy, and ranked. The bottom five will be cut. Only the very best may continue their training for the final three years."
The class was so silent, you could have heard a pin drop.
"What will happen to those who are cut?" asked Hania, in a trembling voice.
"They will be sent to the Capitol. They are always short of avoxes." Kieryan told us, darkly.
My throat was dry, my heart pounding in my chest. Becoming an avox; having one's tongue cut out then becoming a slave to the capitol's citizens, is a fate worse than death.
night, I heard sobs coming from the bed next to mine. With only the slightest hesitation, I slipped out of bed, and sat down on the end of hers.
"Hania?" I said, quietly. She stifled her sobs.
"Who is it?" she mumbled.
"Clove," I replied, softly, "What's up?"
"I can't do this anymore," she whispered, "I'm not strong like you, or Clara. I have no chance. I'm going to become an avox."
"You can do it, Hania. You can fight. Please don't give up. Just try; for me, even if you can't do it for yourself. Okay?"
"Okay," Hania whispered.
That "okay" was a lie. Hania was not okay. Nothing was okay, for any of us.
And the next morning, Hania was dead. She had ended her own life with a length of rope. And, I couldn't help thinking, I could have stopped her. I shouldn't have believed her whispered promise of "okay". I could have done something, anything.
But it was too late.
Hania was dead.
And I had even more motivation to fight.