Mass Murder
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games Trilogy; Suzanne Collins and Scholastic do. This is only a fanfiction written for the Countdown to Mockingjay Contest. –Alyssa
Note: There are some bad words; I guess some people would say. But other than that it's pretty clean.
"Dad! You don't understand what I'm trying to tell you," I yell at my father, trying to make him see my point of view.
"Thamet, you don't understand! You're only a child," he retorts.
"Oh, yes, because I am a naïve child I don't understand that killing children is a good thing! Please! Some leader you are, President Snow!" He gets me so angry sometimes!
"Thamet, it is not 'killing children'! The districts agree to send their children to the Hunger Games every year!" He just doesn't get it, does he?
"Oh, yeah, they're all excited about sending their children off to kill each other! It's not like they only do it because the Capitol will blow their damn district to pieces if they don't! Please, Dad! It's murder, and you know it! This is all just one big power trip for you, isn't it?" I know he puts the districts through this god-awful game every year just so he can feed his damn ego!
"Thamet, it is not murder, and I am not on a power trip." I can't believe him. "And I don't like the way that you are talking to me, young man!"
"Oh, I get it," I say sarcastically. "I can't talk back to you, but you can go kill a bunch of children every damn year!"
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," says the spineless jerk. "Now, please go to your room, and leave me to my work."
"Gladly, President Snow. I will be sure to leave you to your noble work, indeed," I say as I leave his home office. "If you need any help making plans on how to kill children this year, just call up your creepy Gamemakers. I'm sure they'll help you think of something."
I'm literally shaking with anger as I walk up to my bedroom. I pass a couple of Avoxes on the way. It makes me even more angry, to see such young people-people my own age-being kept as slaves. "Oh, but they're not slaves," as Father says. Oh, shut up. They are slaves and nothing else.
I walk into my bedroom and sit down on my bed to think. I do a lot of thinking these days, for better or for worse, I don't know. However, I do know that this whole 'Hunger Games' thing is ridiculous. "Oh, but Thamet, it's just to remind the Districts that the Capitol is in charge." Ha, that's what they tell me, but I know it's just a sick way for my dad and his buddies to get off.
Now District 12's gone up in flames, because Dad's scared of a rebellion. I'm glad the districts are starting a rebellion! It's about time! This sad excuse for a Capitol's been killing their children for almost 80 years, and if I lived in the districts I'd want some damn revenge too!
My best friend, Genemet, and I are both disgusted with the Capitol, and we have been talking about running away to District 13. I know we could never do that. Just to get up and leave our families, knowing that we may never see them again. Then again, how different is it then being a Tribute, and having to leave your home just to be killed. I might seriously consider this. Running away from home, and joining the rebellion in District 13. Ha, that would show President Snow.
Okay, I'll do it. The president doesn't care that he takes children away from their families, so I don't care that I'm taking his only child away from him. I'll call Genemet.
When he finally answers I tell him my plan to join the rebellion. At first he's skeptical, but I persuade him to come with me.
Genemet and I left two nights ago after dinner when we were supposed to be in my bedroom studying for our school finals. We packed our things, and climbed out of my second-story window into the big oak tree in our front yard. When we got to the edge of the city we had to sneak past some guards, but we made it by.
We guess we're still about a day's walk until we reach District 13. I'm just so glad that we get to part of something much bigger than us. Glad that we may be able to put an end to the atrocities committed by the Capitol each year. Glad that we can stop this mass murder of children. Oh, I'm ready to fight the Capitol.
We pass through many districts, though many of them seem to be only ghost towns, with barely anyone out and about. It's all very eerie. By the second day we are both exhausted. We have to camp out in an abandoned shop for the night. I guess its owners left to District 13 like most people.
We leave early the next morning from what we think is District 10, but not before we pack some food that we found in the old store. Even though we are both practically dropping with fatigue, we must hurry if we wish to make it to District 13 before night.
When we arrive in District 13 we are amazed at the number of people there are; crowded in ruins of buildings, huddled together and talking in hushed voices. We enter a building, well, what used to be a building, and try to hear what everyone is talking about.
It seemed as if an unseen signal was given to be quiet, because right as we walked inside everyone fell silent. "And how may we help you?" asked a man who looked like he was in serious need of a shower. What am I saying? I could use a shower right about now, too.
"Um," I start out tentatively. "We've come to help with the resistance."
"Really, now?" asks the same man. "What's two city boys like you doing trying to overthrow the Capital?" He started to say something else, but a tall woman interrupted him.
"Hey! That's Snow's boy!" she yells in an annoying high-pitched voice.
All of a sudden people are all over us—yelling, asking us what we want—and I feel like I'm being suffocated. I finally get a chance to stand up on a chair, and get their attention, but it isn't mine for long.
"Everyone, to the cellar!" ordered the first man who addressed us when we first arrived.
Genemet and I are confused until we look out a window. I can't believe what I see: probably more than one hundred helicopters—Capitol helicopters—are only a couple of miles away, and they are approaching quickly. Oh, what have I gotten us into?
