Games 2

I had a coat strapped tightly around my body, shivering somewhat violently under it. This was really it. I was basically going to do suicide for my sibling, just like she'd tried to do for me just a few days ago.

It was time for this rose to bloom.

My plan was simple but hopefully effective: Follow a Peacekeeper and hope to find a boarding station. My chance of actually suceeding were zero to know, I already knew. But just like I knew she'd try to win for me if I failed, I had to try for her to suceed.

There's a difference between failure and no effort at all.

The Peacekeepers had always frightened me. To see what they'd done to people who were brought into our home...it was absoultley horrifying. Especially the head Peacekeepers...they made me want to run out like Katniss. But I was a natural healer, like my mother. I could withstand treating people. But following one of those who did such horrible things to them...that was a whole new problem.

He was a smaller one, the one I chose to follow. Well, small in Peacekeeper standards, I guess. He was still five foot nine with short cropped brown hair and a hollow face and even more empty eyes. His shoulders were set close together, and I could count his ribs when he'd stop to knock on house doors. He, like all of them, got a sick kind of pleasure out of terrifying people with their power and threats.

Threats...half the time they were more bluffs than anything.

I figured out how to make myself unknown. Ducking behind a house or bystander, pretending to be heading for the mine, and once asking for the time the miners got off the clock when he put his eyes directly on me. He at least acted like he didn't realize my constant presence throughout the day.

By the time five came around, however, I had given up hope on that day. But there was a convientant turn in events...but it was still tragic.

As I rose to head back home, his eyes locked on me once more. My mouth opened to let go of another excuse, but his hand constricted my throat in non-human speed. Gasping, my hands swatted helplessly at his mitt, trying to squeak out a plea for help. But this guy was a Peacekeeper.

Nobody could come and save me now.

Except for he just set me on the nearby stage easily and took out a gun. It was pitch black, a riffle, that had been easily tucked inside of his coat. He didn't flinch or even blink as he put it in my trembling hands, then pressing the barrel to his heart.

"Let yourself get caught. They'll take you to the Capital," he spoke calmly, like a whole new kind of terror wasn't about to happen at the cost of his own life.

He closed his eyes, then flexed his finger down ontop of mine. The finger that was on the trigger.

The shot rang through the early dusk light. About five Peacekeepers came at once, staring in utter shot at their former comrades. Then their eyes, black and smoldering with hate, fixed on me.

Me, the little twelve year standing over the corspe of a Peacekeeper with a bullet in his heart.

And a gun in my hands.