Here is the next chapter! I'm so sorry it took so long! I would blame school, but there really is no excuse. So, I apologize and I'll try to do better in the future.
Okay, well, I'm going to have to try something. The thing is, I don't cuss. At all. The worst things I say are "heck," "dang," "darn," and "shut up." I won't write cuss words either. So a problem arises when tributes that have been submitted to me do cuss, or seem like they might under certain situations. I have come up with a solution: I will write the substitute word, but if the tribute really does say the other word, then I will underline it, so that I won't have to actually write it and those who don't want to read that type of stuff won't have to. People who don't mind, though, can think of the word differently, the way it was actually said or thought by the character. However, if the word is not underlined, then that means that the character really said it as written. So, people, I'm going to try this out, and please bear with me. Let me know if you think the idea is good or awkward or whatever. I'm going to test it out in this chapter, so, here goes…
(DISCLAIMER: As unbelievable as it may sound, I still do not own The Hunger Games. And last time I forgot to mention that I do not own any of the characters in that last chapter either, except for Maryx and Zayden.)
Chapter 2 - Utterly Defeated
-Damona Ravenswood, District 4-
Just breathe, I think. Relax and enjoy this moment.
I stand on the boardwalk and turn my head upward. The sun is just barely completely past the horizon and the sky is the most perfect shade of baby blue with little fluffs of cotton cloud floating gently across the expanse. In front of me, the ocean spreads out in all directions, glistening, a few shades darker than the sky. The breeze kicks lightly against my face, picking up my brown hair off of my shoulders. It is all beautiful.
Keeping my eyes to the sky, I slowly move forward to the end of a dock, holding out an arm to touch the columns of wood on the dock as they pass, making sure I don't fall over the edge. Though, actually, that might be kind of fun. But it would hurt my mom, having to worry about finding something else to replace the green dress shirt that matches my eyes. And I can't let her be in any more pain.
Two years ago, Leo was chosen for the Games. Two years ago, Leo died in the final three. Two years ago, Mom got sick. Today, Mom is still sick, and I don't know what to do.
Leo was my older brother and the closest to my mom. When he was selected to be in the Games, Mom started to change. Her health continued to decrease, and when Leo was killed, she hit rock bottom. To this day she still hasn't been able to gather the strength to climb out of that trench, and both my little brother, Elroy, and I know that if she doesn't soon she never will.
When I reach the edge of the dock, I hold onto one of the wood stumps in the corner and I pull off my leather sandals. Carefully, I maneuver my way down the ladder from the dock to the ocean, resting on a rung high enough that I can soak my feet without getting the rest of my body wet. My arm weaves itself behind and then around the outside of the ladder, latching on to be sure I don't fall in.
"Dang, this bar makes my butt hurt," I whisper under my breath. The rung is too thin to be comfortable. But the water makes up for it. It's slightly warm, but the places the breeze hits it makes it cool, sending tingles up my spine. I can't help but love this. Getting these few moments of bliss before the moment my whole world could potentially be blown apart.
Being seventeen, today will be my second-to-last reaping. Sort of. My second-to-last chance at being picked to directly participate in the Hunger Games, anyway. I will have to continue attending these reapings for the rest of my life, but, right now, that doesn't seem like such a big deal. By that time, I will have made it through the nerve-wracking part where I could be chosen, the only part that really matteres, as of right now. Just two more, I try to reassure myself as I watch the calm water lap at my feet. Only two more.
But while I should be feeling relieved at the fact of my chances actually dwindling, a weird premonition overtakes me; I can't shake the feeling that this might just be the last reaping I have to worry about.
-Remus Skandin, District 4-
Oh, shoot. Not again.
I'm standing by a vacant booth – everyone except for myself absent to prepare for the reapings – in the middle of District 4's huge fish market. And a loud stamping of feet has just erupted a bit of a ways behind me. I quickly turn around to find that, as suspected, the noise is coming from a huge, running Peacekeeper that has just now entered the far side of the marketplace. He is at least a foot taller than me, which is saying something 'cause I'm already about five foot ten.
The first thing that crosses my mind is, Good, he's far enough away for me to make an escape. The second thing I think, with my relief instantly fading less than a second after it appeared, is, Crud, he's between the ocean and me!
Not wasting a second, energy envelopes me, and I spin towards the other direction, dashing off before my balance has even fully returned. I weave between the empty booths and stands with the ease that only comes from experience, leaping above any of the other obstacles that are short enough for me to make it over without hurting myself. Luckily, this has happened to me several times in my past, so I automatically know where to go.
I make it to the side of the market across from him, and I can tell through hearing his blundering steps that I am already way ahead of the Peacekeeper. Won't take much more effort to get rid of him.
Past the marketplace and now among some of the few buildings in District 4, I veer off course to head through the small alley I always use to throw the Peacekeepers off my trail. Slowing, I decide to put on the brakes for a second, so I can listen. I hear nothing. Nothing besides my deep breathing that echoes off of the brick walls on either side of the alley. Relief floods throughout me, and the adrenaline immediately leaves my body leaving my muscles and mind feeling drained.
After one last sensory check to be sure that I'm safe, I begin to amble my way over to the opening between the two buildings and out of the alley opposite the side I came in without a moment's hesitation.
I'm about to make it out when the sound of a skidding pebble about a foot in front of me stops my tracks. But it's too late. The Peacekeeper's already stepped out from behind the corner, blocking my path. Before I get a chance to turn and run for it, the Peacekeeper takes an enormous step towards me and has me pinned to the wall with my feet just barely skimming the ground, one of his giant hands around my throat, the other holding both of my hands to the right of my body against the wall in his massive grip. Up close, I realize that this is the Peacekeeper that almost always ends up being the one to pursue me.
"You think you're so clever, don't you, punk?" He spits on the letter 'p' of 'punk', spewing saliva in my face. His breath smells like rotting fish and his teeth look like them, too. My nose wrinkles at the stench. "But now, after all of these years of chasing, I know all of your strategies," he continues with a smile showing he's pleased with himself. "Now you ain't so cocky."
My breath is coming out in gasps, my lungs finding it difficult to get air around the pressure of his hand on my windpipe. The Peacekeeper doesn't seem to notice that my face is turning a light shade of gray. In fact, he seems so consumed in his pride at having finally caught me that I doubt he would notice much else. Taking advantage of that, I jerk my knee up, hard, striking the spot right between his legs.
With a howl dripping pain and rage, the Peacekeeper falls back, releasing me. I land lightly back on my feet and zip off towards the opening I originally came through, making as big of a circle around the wounded giant as possible in the confined space.
I run through the market, once again, this time in the direction of the ocean, of safety, and of home.
I make it past all of the buildings and am now among the middle class houses, and I still haven't come across anymore trouble. A little while back I'd slowed to a speed-walk, and now I slow down to a measured walk. All of the doors are closed and curtains cover the windows of the houses as families prepare for the potential tragedy that is quickly approaching today.
For a quick moment, I am distracted by the thought of what it would be like right now if I were concealed behind those windows and, absentmindedly, I stand still. To have a mom buzzing around me like a honeybee, worrying at me and bugging me about what to wear for the reaping. To have a dad off in the other room, helping a younger sibling get dressed. Or even just having an older brother to bicker with would be… so… alleviating.
But I will never get that opportunity.
As far back as I can remember, I had always lived in a small group home with a few other kids who's parents had either abandoned them before they were old enough to fend for themselves or had died. I never knew my parents. Most of the other kids had at least lived with their parents for a few years until they ended up at the group home, but I hadn't. When I was just a baby I was dropped off on the home's doorstep. Despite how cliché that may sound, it's true. So, I was brought up in the home with a few older ladies – who also had no other family – that took care of the children, me included.
At age eight, I ran away. One day I just couldn't take it anymore, so I fled the group home and never turned back. I ran, and continued running, until I found myself in the salty water of the ocean. Then I swam. I swam so much that my arms ached like never before, and I could barely keep from swallowing up the sea in my attempts at breathing. Right at the point that I thought I was doomed to drown, I discovered an island not too far away from where I struggled. Scarcely able to wrestle up the energy, I somehow made it to the island where I have since resided.
To this day, I still haven't again seen those three old, dedicated women since the time I ran away.
Consumed in memory, I almost didn't take notice of the colossal shadow creeping up behind me. Almost. In a split-second, I'm running again. A loud curse comes from the Peacekeeper followed by his heavy footfalls as he tries to catch back up to me.
Inside, I'm also cursing myself. For being so ignorant and reckless, for pretty much giving that annoying, pain in the butt Peacekeeper a free pass at getting me. I shouldn't get so overcome by emotion. It's dangerous.
I continue to internally yell at my stupidity until I recognize the few small shacks ahead of me as meaning that I have almost made it to the sea. Sure enough, a few sprinting steps later, the docks and ocean come into view. Finally, I think exasperatedly. I'm starting to get tired of all of this cat and mouse play.
Not slowing in the slightest, I dash off to the first wooden dock in sight. My feet slap on the wooden planks, and I can't help but smile at the anticipation of what is about to happen. Without missing a step, I expertly begin to bring my arms above my head as I prepare to dive. My back leans forward, and I restlessly start counting down the steps to ecstasy.
Three. Ha, I made it past that stupid Peacekeeper yet again.
Two. Now he'll never mess with me again.
One. He'd better not.
Lift off. And I launch myself off of the dock and over the brightly reflecting water, closing my eyes in midair. The air tries to resist my flying body, but it is no match for my momentum. Then gravity takes over, and I'm slicing through the water, outstretched arms first.
I don't know how long I'm underwater, but all too soon I break through the surface. Leisurely, I turn around in the water to see where the Peacekeeper is. As I scan my eyes across the docks, a splash of bright green catches my attention. Comically, my eyes snap back to find that the green is actually the shirt of a girl with straight brown hair sitting on the ladder directly under the dock I just dived off of. A look of pure incredulity shows on her face as I swim farther away. Before I can ponder about her more, though, a shout comes from an angry figure stomping around across the deck.
"You won't ever get away with this again!" he screams. "Don't think this is over, Remus Skandin!" A creepy grin covers the Peacekeeper's face as he calls my name like he actually knows that he's just uncovered my greatest secret.
-Damona Ravenswood, District 4-
Loud thumps coming from overhead break me out of my reverie. What in the world…?
All of a sudden, a shadow eclipses the sun for just a fraction of a second, and then I see someone, or something, diving into the water a few feet in front of me. In a sort of weird shock, I just sit there, still. A moment later, a head of black hair appears out of the water quite a ways out from where it went in initially. A pair of arms appear next, and I can tell from its back that it's a boy. Before he moves further into the ocean, he turns around, his head moving back and forth like he's looking for something. His eyes stop on me, his head going still.
I startle, eyes breaking contact with the boy's, when a deep and furious voice booms, "You won't ever get away with this again! Don't think this is over, Remus Skandin!"
Remus Skandin? I've never heard of his name before. And I thought I knew most of the people in District 4. Huh… Wait. Where is he going?
The boy, Remus, had turned back around and was now sliding through the sea with grace, going out and out into the ocean. Where is he going? The mayor always told us not to go too far out in the ocean because there were vicious sharks – muttations, as all of us believed – that attacked anything that moved outside of a boat. Obviously, there are three reasons behind this: A. He is unaware of the sharks. B. He ignores the mayor and goes out swimming 'cause he's a crazy daredevil. Or C. There actually aren't any sharks. Had I any money to spare, I would bet it on letter C. I wouldn't ever put it past the mayor to say a few white lies to get us to stay in the district and not make a run for it.
Distractedly, I make my way back up the ladder and walk home.
-Remus Skandin, District 4-
I make my way around yet another pile of sardine-filled crates and stick my head around the corner of a building to gaze out at the packed square.
Once again today, I find myself wandering through the innards of District 4. Wonderful.
Even though I basically live out on that island - and several other smaller ones, too - I have to show at the reapings. I'm in trouble enough as it is with the district; I don't need to give them any other charge against me. Every other year I've been able to come here without any trouble from the Peacekeepers. They are always so caught up with protecting the mayor, escort, and Victors that they are never on the lookout for my familiar old face.
But today I'm running late because of that interesting little detour I had to take to avoid getting caught. Normally I would show up as the main crowd was streaming in so I would be able to hide my face easier. Now I'm going to have to sneak in when none of them are looking. Good luck with that, Remus. Or maybe not.
The clock on District 4's Justice Building tolls out the time as being ten, and the mayor begins his extremely boring speech about… Well, who-knows-what. It's not like anyone pays attention to what he's saying anyway. Everyone's too consumed with worry that they or anyone they know might be picked for the Games to decipher the mayor's mumblings.
After the mayor finishes his speech, the escort, who's name I have no idea, walks up to the microphone, round belly bouncing, and states in a voice unusually high for a male, "These Games are about to begin!"
-Damona Ravenswood, District 4-
"These Games are about to begin!" declares escort Lewis Carlor in his gay-guy voice.
I turn my head slightly to the side to whisper my signature phrase to Ell, "Crud, that ain't good!"
She responds by giggling in her girly way. It has always bugged me, but I won't ever dare tell her that. She's one of the few friends I've got, one of the few people who seems to be able to stand me. Besides Elroy, that is. He and I have gotten along fine since…
Thankfully, Lewis continues before I get a chance to think down that dark road again. "So, ladies and gentlemen, I will now present to you the girl from our fine district that will participate in the Games."
He waddles – for that's really the only way to describe the way Lewis is moving – past the microphone to the giant glass bowl containing all of the girls' names. He sticks his short, chubby arm into the bowl and pulls out the first paper his stubs of fingers make contact with. He pulls the slip of paper out of the bowl and squints at it, scrunching up his face as he tries to read the name scrawled there. He's still staring at the paper, now holding it out at arms length to decode it, when suddenly my stomach curls up in anxiety.
Light dawns on Lewis's face as he comprehends what is written on the paper, and he calls out the name without bothering to toddle back over to the microphone.
I stand next to Ell, confused. Where's the lucky girl? I think sardonically. I don't see anyone going to the stage, and I still don't understand. Then I realize that everyone is watching me. And it hits me that that was my name Lewis read. My name!
I see Ell's face frozen in a terrified mask as she looks at me, her mouth open in a little circle. Trying to lessen her horror, I weakly say, desperately hoping she can hear me, "Well, crud, that ain't good."
Blankly, I walk up to the stage and stand next to Lewis. Up close, I see that he is covered in jewels everywhere. Rings on his fingers and ears. Necklaces roped around his neck. There are even strings of beads twined in his long, pale beard. He smiles at me, and then turns back to the bowl for the guys. Once again, he plunges his short arm in and out similar to the way a snake strikes.
This time when he reads the name, he holds it far away from himself from the beginning and then shuffles back to the microphone. He shouts into the microphone, overcompensating, causing a loud keening to sound from the speakers. There are some shouts of surprise from the audience, and Lewis quickly apologizes, still speaking a bit too loud. Then he states the boy's name. The nanosecond the words, "Remus Skandin," pass Lewis's lips, I recognize the name and my head jerks out to the crowd expectantly searching for him. The boy who I saw diving into the water, running from someone. The boy with the jet black hair and tanned skin.
A disturbance catches my eye at the back of the square. Someone is barreling their way through the collection of people watching the reapings towards the group of fifteens. Someone with dark hair. I can't help but smirk.
Remus shatters through the crowd and suddenly stops running, beginning to dawdle up the steps to the stage, head bent down. He stops beside me and spins on his heal so that he is now facing the collection of District 4. I'm looking at him so I notice when his gaze flickers from the group of people to the side, back ahead, then to me, ahead again, and then repeating the pattern in an endless loop.
I slant forward to look around him to see what he keeps glancing at. Unless I'm mistaken, it appears that he keeps peeking at a giant of a Peacekeeper. Unless I'm mistaken, it appears that the Peacekeeper looks quite pleased. I flash back to earlier today when I heard the roaring shout. 'You won't ever get away with this again! Don't think this is over….' Abruptly, I know that this specific Peacekeeper had been the person to say it.
"Well, anyone going to volunteer? No?" Lewis answers his own question before anyone even gets the chance to volunteer. A sinking feeling in my stomach begins to grow until I'm pretty sure it has completely fallen out of my body and down to the very core of the planet. No one is ever going to volunteer for me. Tears prick my eyes as I think of my mom and Elroy. But I won't show any weakness, so I blink away the teardrops.
Determined, I quickly look to pick out Elroy in the crowd. He's leaning on his friend Bata's shoulder, sobbing quietly. The breath that I didn't know I'd been holding whooshes out of my chest, and I know on the outside I look terribly sad, but I decide that it doesn't matter right now.
Lewis declares Remus and I as being the tributes for District 4, and maybe even future Victors. He then has us shake hands. When I look at Remus his head is still bent over, but his eyes, I notice, are such a pale shade of blue that they almost look like they don't have irises. His gaze flicks up to look at me between his dark eyelashes, and I know what he sees. An utterly defeated girl trying to be brave. And I am.
There you go! I hope you guys liked it. I tried to go through and edit it, but I don't think I did a very good job. I'm going to go through it again more thoroughly a bit later, but right now I'm too impatient to wait to post the chapter, so yeah.
Let me know what you thought! Especially those who entered the tributes for this chapter. Just in case you guys are confused about the order of how I'm writing this story, I'm doing the things that are interesting. I'm not doing every reaping or anything because otherwise it would become very repetitive. So I'm only going to write the ones that really need to be written. But don't worry, I'm going to write from everyone's point of view at some time or another, it just won't be the same times for everyone.
Please review, and you can still enter arena, stylist, mentor, and prep team ideas!
(DISCLAIMER: I also don't own these characters in this chapter besides Lewis and Ell. But I did come up with the names Leo and Elroy. I hope you don't mind HiddenMusic!)
-heatsoul-