Daxton Kessler, 16, District Seven
(Three months before the Reapings)
The lumber warehouse is especially busy today.
I tell Daisy, Rowan, and Aspen to pipe down as heavy machinery descends on the place that we call home.
"Daxton, what's happening?" Aspen's tiny, lispy voice pipes up.
"Nothing. Everything's fine. These people are just doing a bit of work on the house," I reassure him with a fake smile. I ruffle his hair which causes him to giggle. Hopefully I didn't get dirt in his hair.
I look back towards the crack in the door where the sounds of drills and mechanical saws fill the small space that me and my siblings are confined in. About thirty unhappy looking lumber workers descend on the warehouse. They are all dressed identically in tan overalls and black t-shirts.
Out of the whirs of the machines comes the cry of a small child. I look behind me to find Daisy, her lemon eyes stained with tears, stifling sobs coming from her mouth.
"Shh," I tell her, probably more forcefully than I should've. I clamp my hand over her mouth, muffling her cries from the outside world. She's only six years old so she doesn't know the gravity of the situation yet. I look back towards the lumber workers. A few look around, having heard the noises that came from my younger sister. They eventually shrug and go back to work. I let out a sigh of relief.
"Remember," I start as I take my hand off her tear stained, wet face. "We can't make noise when these people are working. Got it?" Daisy and Aspen both give me a tiny nod. Rowan is asleep in the corner, having pulled her pink jacket off her body to act as a blanket. Mom and Dad used to do that for her.
I remember the night that Mom and Dad were killed. I was fourteen years old, Daisy was four, Rowan and Aspen were six. I sat at the kitchen table, the same one that Dad had built by himself before I was even born, a glass of chocolate milk and a plate of frosted sugar cookies in front of me. Dad had just gotten back from work and he sat down on the couch, closing his eyes as if he was about to drift off to sleep. Mom sat down next to him, placing her head on his shoulders. I didn't know what Dad did for work but he always wore a three-piece business suit so it must be important. If it was that important, you would think that he would earn more money.
The broken doorbell excessively rang with an annoying beep. Dad threw his head back with a groan which caused Mom to laugh. He cursed to himself before standing up and forcing himself to the door. I peeked from around the corner to see who it was, curious as to who it was.
The door flipped open and standing there were two Peacekeepers, dressed from head to toe in white, a large gun in each of their hands. Fear immediately spread throughout my body.
"Can I help you?" Dad asked, clearly terrified as well. The Peacekeeper on the right says nothing, instead pointing the gun towards Dad and pulling the trigger.
Three bullets are fired into his chest, leaving three bloody holes in him. I saw a spew of blood fire from his mouth before he collapsed towards the ground, most definitely dead.
This can't be happening, I thought as I shut my eyes. This is just a dream. More like a nightmare. I'll wake up soon.
I opened my eyes as if I woke up. This isn't a nightmare. This is real.
I barely got time to process this before Mom crawled over to Dad, her sobs canceling out the ringing in my ears. She placed a hand on his bloody chest, staining her fingers red. She looked up at the murderer, meeting his eyes before the other Peacekeeper loaded a single bullet into her head. She dropped to the floor with a thud, meeting Dad wherever he had gone. To this day, I don't know why this happened, why they were taken from us.
I tried to cry but for some reason the tears didn't come. I don't know why, maybe it was shock.
I couldn't even move, my body frozen in place as if one of the bullets had entered my leg and prevented me from escaping.
"Search upstairs for the children," the first Peacekeeper told the other. "I'll search the ground floor." He did as he was told and trekked up the stairs. The first one, his gun still in his hands, walked through the hall and into the kitchen where I sat, paralyzed by fear. He pressed a button on his helmet which lights up a blue tone.
"Found one of the four," he said. I couldn't even comprehend what's happening as he filled a syringe with a green liquid, as if it was from one of those sci-fi movies from the Capitol. I sit there, not trying to fight the man as he calmly loads the syringe into my arm. He scooped me up over his back as my muscles completely relaxed and I'm unable to fight anymore.
The last thing I saw before my body succumbed to the drugs was the other Peacekeeper hauling the unconscious bodies of my younger siblings down the stairs.
After that, we bounced around from group home to group home, unsure of our future. One night we couldn't take it anymore and I grabbed all three of my siblings and ventured into the night, unsure of where we would go. Eventually, in the middle of the night, we stumbled upon the warehouse.
The whirring of circular saws and the low hum of the warehouse stirs me back from my past. I watch for hours as the woodworkers struggle to stay awake and my siblings drift off to sleep, somehow. The sky goes dark and the warehouse shuts down, covering our tiny room in complete darkness. I'm finally able to drift off to sleep, where everything is different.
Eden Eldridge, 14, District Seven
(Two days before the Reapings)
I'm glad that my dog broke the fence when he was trying to get into the woods. I'm glad that my father was too lazy to ever fix it. I'm glad that it's easy to hop over.
I trek into the woods, following the path I have carefully created bit by bit. My father wouldn't care but my mother definitely would. And I know the District Seven Peacekeepers definitely would. The so-called "Peacekeepers" assigned to my district are notoriously strict and ruthless towards citizens. I don't why, maybe they just live having power over others.
I follow the dirt trail into the thick, warm woods of District Seven. The leaves are especially green today, none of that dark green vomit color, but a warm and inviting shade. The bark on the trees hasn't been chipped or damaged by an animal yet. The bluebirds above me sing a sweet song, one of freedom and care. I try to sing back until I forget that I can't sing. The flock of pretty animals disappears to find another tree. I frown at that.
A stump where a tree used to be interrupted my path. It used to be a tree that was strong and supportive, one that towered above the others as if it protected them. Why does the Capitol always choose my favorite trees to chop down?
The lumber production in District Seven has hit an all time high. About a third of people in my district are employed in the lumber industry. I know that's what we're known for but usually they don't need as many people.
I cancel out my negative thoughts, ones of despair and depression and venture forth, pausing to look at the leaves, already growing and gaining their color back. This last winter was brutal for us so it's exciting to see a rebirth in the trees already. I look forward. The clearing is just a couple hundred feet away.
I rush towards it, wanting to feel the sunlight on my skin, wanting to feel warm inside. That feeling comes as I propel myself forward into the clearing. I close my eyes and engulf this incredible feeling into my body, wishing every moment could be like this. My eyes come open again and I look down at the ground where a million flowers of every color lay. I flop down on the bed of petals and let out a hearty laugh.
"Eden?" a voice calls out. It causes me to sit upright. I recognize it. Sequoia.
I rush over to the girl, her blonde hair majestic in the breeze and her face soft and place, planting a firm kiss on her lips. After a few seconds, I break away.
"How did you know I was here?" I ask her as I grasp her hand firmly.
"Well, you weren't at your house or at school so it was a safe bet that you came out here," she responds with a chuckle.
"You know me so well." We smile at each other before she pulls me in for another kiss. It's even better this time.
She wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me to the flower filled ground. I let out an unexpected yelp as we land right next to each other, only a few white and purple petals separating us. This is our favorite place to go together. It's secluded, it's private, and we can make out any time we want.
"Have you told your parents yet?" The question catches me off guard. She's going to be very disappointed by my answer.
"No, not yet." She lets out a scoff. "Sequoia, it's not that I don't want to. I do, I really do. But they wouldn't understand. Mom is dead set on me and the guy across the street getting married."
"Bitchy Banyon?" Her nickname for the boy always makes me laugh, no matter how many times she says it.
"Yeah, that one." I grip her hands. They're warm and smooth to the touch. "I want to be with you, Sequoia. I want it so incredibly bad. But I can't."
"You can. You just don't want to."
"That's not it at all!"
"Really? We've been dating for nine months and you've neglected to tell anyone that we're in a relationship or that we even know each other!"
"I know, baby. And I'm so sorry. It's just not the right time."
"Are you breaking up with me?" She jumps off the ground and holds her arms to her chest.
"No!" I jump up as well. I place my hand on her face. "Not at all. I just need a little more time. Is that okay?" She stares me in the eyes, her anger slowly dissipating from her face and turn into a smile.
"Okay," she agrees.
"Perfect." I kiss her on the cheek.
As we separate, I look over her shoulder and find something I've never found before. It's a tree but it's tall, dark, and skinny. Branches poke out from every corner.
"I have an idea," I tell her as I grip her hand. "Do you trust me?" She doesn't respond verbally, instead with a nod of her head.
I rush over to the tree, dragging her along with me. We giggle along the entire way until we reach the dark wood base.
I thrust my body into the first branch on the tree, one that's quite large and sturdy. I sit down and reach a hand down towards Sequoia.
"Milady," I poshly say, putting on my best Capitol voice. She lets out a little snort.
She takes a hold of my palm and I pull her upwards into the branch. We keep doing that for what is probably hours but feels like minutes with her.
We reach the last branch, the only one at the very top of the tree. We look out upon our district, our home. We see the rest of the seemingly endless forest, we see the building, we see my house, her house, the school. Everything
She places her head on my shoulders and leans into me. At that moment, peace is the only thing I find. We watch the sun as it disappears past the horizon and the day fades into night.
Just a little more time, I think. Just a little more.
What I didn't know was that I was running out.