With Each Year

by katsparkle13

Every Career had to start somewhere, right? They couldn't have always been coldblooded killers. This is the story of a boy from District 1. A boy who was once was filled with innocence. Each chapter finds him another year older, and another year colder. But this is also the story of the people who slowly caused what love he had to fade.

3. Unanswered

Today is Victor's Birthday…..

Though only two years old now, Victor is smart. His eyes are bright and he is perpetually curious. His favorite phrase is "what's that?" Cornelius answers his son's questions with enthusiasm. Intelligence is important in the arena, and though people would never admit it, it is rather rare in District 1. Crystal, however, is less impressed. "The boy will be an outcast, Cornelius! He won't have friends and no one will be his Training Partner. No, intelligence never made a good Career!" Cornelius shakes his head slowly. "No, my dear, that is not true." He pauses to take a breath. "Everyone knows that a killer, at least a very effective one, is smart. Killing, and escaping a killer, does require a certain amount of calculation." Crystal is silent. Her husband is right and she knows that. She doesn't usually contribute in issues pertaining to the arena, mainly because she carries a small amount of resentment inside her. Crystal had gone to the Training Academy when she was eight, along with every other child in the district. Only half of those children were allowed to continue after a year, and Crystal and Cornelius were lucky enough to be included. But every year, "eliminations" take place again, so that the by the time the children were around the age of eighteen, only a handful remained to be eligible to volunteer as a tribute. Crystal was eliminated when she was fourteen. She has ashamed her family. But Victor can redeem them. Crystal is sure of that.

Cornelius takes Victor outside. The warm sun greets them and Victor squeals with joy. He points to the sun. "What's that?" Cornelius smiles. He hardly ever does that. It's no wonder, considering all the horrors that he has seen. But seeing his son laugh has a strange effect on him. When Victor is in his arms, he can remember that he too was once a small, innocent child. There was once a time when blood wasn't on his hands. "That's the sun, my boy." He whispers. He moves to sit on one of the ornate chairs that sit on the porch. Victor leans against him, and falls asleep with his thumb in his mouth. His father strokes his son's sun-kissed hair and watches the sun slip below the horizon. Colors reach out, bright oranges, lavenders and reds. And in that moment, he feels happy. Really, truly happy. Victor stirs in his lap, and Cornelius decides that it's time to go inside and put his son to bed. So he puts his son's tired head on his shoulder and opens the large wooden door back inside. The television lights up the room once father and son get inside, but Cornelius pays no attention. His father Victor's grandfather, is likely watching. The family lives together, mainly so Grandfather Flint can oversee the vineyard just outside that has been in the family for generations. Victor startles Cornelius by suddenly asking yet again "what's that?" He turns to see what his son is pointing to on the television screen. It's the Hunger Games. The 50th, to be exact. And it's what Cornelius was trying to avoid by taking his son outside. His father turns on the couch, waiting for Cornelius's answer. But he has none. Because how can he explain killing to a two year old boy?