Amelia Lock, District 11 female- Kyoko Rose
As always, I'm awakened by my siblings screaming and shouting at me. I toss my sheets off and slide my legs over the side. Today's reaping day.
As I come down the stairs, I stop for a moment looking around before yelling out, "Is dad up yet?" I get my reply that his still asleep. I frown before heading up to his and mum's room.
As I enter, I look around and see photos of Mum and Dad together.. Before dad was confined to a wheel chair and before Mum passed away. I smile softly as a few tears run down my face.
I miss her... a lot... I turn away from them and walk towards dad.
"Wake up! It's reaping day dad.." I say to him. I see him wake up and call Henry up. Henry comes over before I leave him to help dress Dad.
Coming down the stairs, I look at all my siblings: Eloise, Elise, Mathew, Benjamin, and Estella. Before going into the kitchen, Benny comes up to me. "Mely, can I help with breakfast?" which causes me to smile.
"Sure Benny." I say.
Before long, we've made breakfast and feed everyone and get dressed. I'm wearing a tight fitting green skirt and a blue T-shirt. I've got heels on...They used to be my mother's.
We line up, waiting. I've always hated this day, and who wouldn't? The day you are chosen to die or to kill. As I stand in line, I look around at my family and fellow district children.
When I hear the intro, I don't pay any attention. Why would I? It's the same old stuff. But when it comes to who is chosen I listen. I would be prepared to offer myself up for others, especially for my sisters. I look over at them one last time before I hear the name of the female tribute. "Elise Emily Lock."
Before that girl, my sister - one of the youngest - can go up, I jump up, "I'll take her place!" I say and a gasp goes around the Town Square. I look around before heading up.
"Your name?" I am asked.
"I am Amelia Jessica Lock, I am seventeen and I am taking the place of my sister, Miss Elise Lock," I say, not looking at my siblings.
I know full well what that means... It means that I will leave them and probably never come back. But it's a risk I will take for my siblings. If I had a choice I would stop the Hunger Games, stop death. But reality is that I can't so I would save my sister once more.
I choke back tears as I look over to the crowd. I see my father, my sick father, looking at me, his eyes full of tears, which doesn't help me. I stand on the stage, waiting for it all to be over.
I am the eldest of 7 children. I have a twin, the most annoying one, and I have to leave him to look after our siblings and father by himself. I'm sure he will get help just like I did, but he will have more as he is more popular. It is true I am not very popular with the town's people.
As I stand there, I think of how I could say sorry. I could just leave a note and not deal with the emotions or I could go through talking with my family, and then I have to choose my only item to take.
Though... I know full well what I will take. It is my favorite thing and it was from my mother. It was the last gift my mother gave me. I know I have one chance at life and I'm leaving it into the hands of strangers. I barely know anyone in my district anyway, but I am well known. I never wanted to be chosen, no one does... well, beside the Career pack, but that's different.
Jessica... the name of my aunt... the aunt that killed herself in my home while I was there. I tried to stop her... but... to no luck. She stood there after she was told she was going to the games she killed herself. They had to get another girl to take her place. I guess she didn't want someone else to take her life. Especially if it was for someone else's had told me to look away but I didn't I saw her stab herself and the blood run from her wound. I held her hand as the life slowly drained from her.
I stand there trying to look brave and not to cry as I see all of my life. The excitement of being a six year old then finding about my siblings as they came. Elise and Eloise are the only ones who were born separately. The younger three are triplets. They're pretty much identical, besides one. If I had a choice I would still keep my family. My only true friend is Ivy Lockheart... And I'll be leaving her.
My hand is pulled up in the air by Bellona Agathe, who's been with District 11 since I could remember. I turn to look at my fellow tribute and take in his appearance. I've seen him around sometimes but not often. But most people never cross my path, anyways.
The reaping is over as I find out who I am going with. He made a commotion before coming up, but that'd be expected right?
I think his name starts with M or N. I don't know.
I never caught his name, but I wish I did...
.
Now comes the time for the visitors. When I see Henry wheel in father, I try to keep back the tears. He slowly pulls me into an embrace and I squeeze him, sighing and looking at him, though trying to avoid eye contact.
"Look after the kids for me... and dad too." I add with a small giggle.
He smiles back, not saying a word, which hurts me. The tears slowly come but I push them back. If I cry now, what would they think of me? No words are spoken between us as we hug. I wish I could say something but if I do, the tears would come.
My sisters and brothers come in and we huddle together, trying to keep together for as long as we can.
I part last with Henry. I whisper that I am sorry to him, that I will come back. But he knows full well that if I do come back... I won't be the same.
I frown deeply when the Mayor's soon comes in. He slowly walks over to me. I glare at him.
"Why are you going Melia!? Why did you volunteer!?" he yells at me. I shake my saying a word. "Please Meli...tell me.." he pleaded. I sigh deeply. "Because I didn't want my sister there when I could save her." I respond.
He nods his before pulling me into a hug. Before he left I hand him my diary.
Soon Ivy comes in. We embrace for ages. I try to contain the tears but it's hard I know that once I leave I may not see her again.
"That was brave but very stupid Melia," she whispers to me, and I sigh.
"I know."
She wipes away the tears and I smile at her.
I've known Ivy for years now. She was my first friend and my best. She asks me what I am going to take to which I respond, saying that I am going to take the last gift my mother gave me, which is around my neck.
She smiles at me before leaving the room.
No one else comes.
Milo Briggs, District 11 Male- ChocolateChipHomicide
The sun presses down on me, the heat surrounding me, clinging to my skin and turning the air thick. Sweat prickles the back of my neck. The oppressive heat swells and surges, the crowd swimming underneath the wavering lines of the air- an endless sea of familiar dark faces in front of me, dressed up in their finery- which, in District 11 equates to whatever shirt you've got that has the least piss on it.
I'd normally like the sun, but today it's decided to take a leaf out of the Capitol's book and be the biggest asshole it can be. As if today weren't shitty enough.
The crowd feels the heat too. Although by now there would be a stream of nervous chatter in the air- boys kissing their mothers goodbye, girls putting on an air of confidence, trying to quell the nerves with bravado, babies crying, parents weeping softly, feet tapping and old men whistling softly- it's barely a murmur today. Children file into their positions, squeezing their parents or siblings goodbye, waving to them over the crowd.
A Peacekeeper raps his baton against the wall, one-two-three sharp taps, shutting off the steady murmurings of the crowd. Mayor June strides up to the stage, with an air of "let's-just-get-this-over-with." She pulls out a card from her back pocket and starts reading in a monotonous drone, the words of the usual speech wafting over us. It's too hot to think properly. I fiddle with a thread that's come loose from my shirt, twisting it around one finger, braiding it. I hope this gives a sense of how mind-numbingly boring this all is. Someone shoot me. Please.
I take the time to find my family in the crowd. I wave to my mother, and she waves weakly back, wrapping her shawl around herself. She's nervous, but what parent wouldn't be? Besides her is Martin, my little brother, clinging to her skirt and fiddling with his necklace, a sun and moon pendant. A little distance off stand Mirriam and her husband, in a baggy dress that accommodates her swollen, heavy stomach. She's eight months pregnant, and it's bloody all she ever talks about- baby this, baby that, what are we going to call the baby, do you think it's a boy or a girl? They're planning to call it Mariah if it's a girl, and Miller if it's a boy. At least, those are the names they've got this week, since it changes maybe every five seconds.
Mayor June coughs, and continues, detailing how this 'great nation' of Panem rose out of the ashes of what had once been called North America. How the storms and floods, tsunamis and earthquakes split and flooded the land, how the useless leaders sat back and did nothing about it until it was too late. Nice one, humans, you can't live in one place for maybe a couple thousand years without fucking it all up. She goes on, detailing the first rebellion against the 'glorious' Capitol, which the Capitol somehow managed to win, though how I have no idea. Did they stab them with their high heels? Smother them with wigs? The Mayor doesn't say.
The logical step after a rebellion, of course, is child-murder. But not just any child-murder, no, televised child-murder. Of course. Mayor June details the rise of the Hunger Games, decided by popular vote in the Capitol, and how we must offer up two kids to stab each other to death, because hey, why not, right?
She goes on to the second rebellion. You'd think that the rebels would have learned from their mistakes, but no-o, they managed to screw that one up too. It took them seventy-four years to get pissed off enough about the annual Let's-Watch-Kids-Die-Yay-Fun-Games to actually do something about it, and when they did they didn't do shit to the Capitol. Didn't even nuke it once. What a disappointment.
She folds the paper up and sits down without being asked. Our escort, Bellona Agathe, takes to the stage, dressed garishly in her usual attire. She's been with District 11 for as long as I can remember, showing eerily no sign of her fifty-something years, no doubt because of a hundred and one plastic surgeries. I wouldn't be surprised if she bathed in the blood of virgins, or something, either. In the crowd of warm, brown, familiar faces she barely looks human, deathly pale and smothered in makeup.
I find my family once more, giving them a quick thumbs-up. We've got a special dinner planned for tonight, as most people do. A celebration of sorts, though Mother usually brings a choice portion of it to whomever's kid got Reaped. I managed to steal a few apples, Mirriam even bought us some rotten peaches, and I stabbed a groosling the other day in the fields. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water. I hope we get this over with soon.
Bellona totters over to the girl's bowl, almost tripping on her heels. I hold my breath, praying to every deity I've heard of that she'll fall- but no, she makes it. Dammit. Well, there's always next year.
She pulls out the name with a flourish. I stare down at my feet, expecting the worst. It's a tactic of mine- if you expect the worst, then you can only ever be right, or pleasantly surprised. So here's what I think will happen: a twelve year old will be picked. No, a pregnant twelve year old. With cancer. And one limb.
Geez. Maybe the Reaping is getting to my head.
"Elise Lock!" Bellona calls out. I look up, spotting a tiny girl through the crowds. I barely have enough time to register this, however, before another voice calls out.
"I'll take her place!" A fair blonde girl jumps up, pulling her sister- I assume it's her sister, they look rather alike- behind her. I cock my head in surprise. District 11 hasn't had a volunteer in what, decades?
I stand on tiptoe to get a better look at her, as she stands up on the stage, Bellona congratulating her and asking the crowd for a round of applause. She's pale, which is the first thing I notice about her, since it's so incredibly uncommon to have anything but the familiar dark brown skin in Eleven. She stands out immensely, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, almost as strange in this District as Bellona's Capitol garb.
I'm so surprised about our volunteer this year that I barely register Bellona as she struts across the stage, swinging her arms beside her, making her way to the boys bowl. I don't hear the name she calls for the first time.
"Milo Briggs?" she asks into the microphone, scanning the crowd. "Milo Briggs?"
The name sounds familiar somehow. I look around, wondering why everyone's staring at me.
Oh. Right. It's my name.
I throw my head back. Of course, the one time when I didn't tell myself over and over that I would be picked, the one time I didn't prepare myself for the worse, the worst happened. Are you fucking kidding me?
There's a chortle next to me, and I realise I must have said that last line out loud. Well, who gives a shit, right? I don't suppose it matters now anyway. Now that I'm going to-
Oh fuck, I'm actually going to die. I'm actually going to…my stomach twists, and I have to clap a hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming.
A Peacekeeper strides towards me, beckoning me up onto the stage.
"I'm coming," I croak, shaking him off. Somehow I manage to make it up to the stage, while Bellona congratulates me and Amelia again.
I can hear a small boy, crying faintly in the distance. Oh Christ. Martin, I'm so sorry. I scan the crowds, looking for my brother and find him sobbing, wedged between my mother and sister. Mirriam presses him to her swollen stomach, staring at my mother for comfort and finding only her tears, and they embrace, shaking with tears. The crowd looks at them, but not unkindly. They'll find gifts of food at their doorstep this evening, I'm sure.
Bellona pulls my hand so she can raise it with Amelia's. I look over the crowds, the pitiful, forced applause smattering off of them, the weathered, beaten-down faces and where I cannot bring myself to look, my family, sobbing against each other.
This is just not my day.
.
We crowd into the waiting room together, as a family. They surround me, envelop me, the same eyes, same dark skin, same thin hands stretched out towards me, hugging, consoling, a hotbed of energy and outpouring love. Martin, clutching my mother Melanie's skirt, Mirriam, eyes brimming over- and baby Mariah or Miller, I suppose I should count them too. And slightly to the left, Mirriam's fiance Stefen. It's always felt like he didn't fit in somehow. I wonder why.
Martin, tiny and glossy-eyed, clutches against my shirt, hugging me so hard it feels like his arms will break, as if he can hold me down against the floor, pin me to the safety of District 11, where things are safe and familiar and routine. How could I ever have been bored with it? Routine, I love routine. This is the opposite of routine. This is meant to happen to other people. I'm meant to go home tonight and eat the celebratory dinner and watch the Games and work in the fields and go to sleep at home next to Martin in our shack. I'm meant to see Mirriam's child be born, grow up, watch him or her live and eat and smile. I'm meant to grow up.
My mother manages to hold it together, just barely. Mirriam is weeping softly, and Stefan wraps his arms around her and lets her cry into his shoulder, while he stands stiff-necked.
I feel almost numb. Disconnected. I don't think my mind is fully on-board with what's going on. I can register my mother's eyes burning and Martin on my lap, pulling me into him, and Mirriam whispering I'm sorry over and over, though why I'm not sure. I turn around, silent, and stare out into the District. Orchards blooming with trees, glasshouses and endless seas of waving gold stalks. I suddenly feel an intense wave of homesickness. Everything is gold and warm and familiar, everything and everywhere home. I can see Martha's herbstand, the tiny swingset for the little kids where I used to push Martin, the peach tree where a flock of angry mockingjays nest. All the people I know, the friendly faces, the known faces, people I love and respect and work with, all of them. Okay, maybe not Old Man Granville, since he short-changed me for a pair of shoes last week. But everyone except him.
"Milo?" Mirriam puts a cool hand on my shoulder. "I want you to have this."
She holds out a carved wooden pendant, hanging from dried, braided grass. A sun and a moon, I recognise.
"No matter where you are-" she chokes off, swallows, and starts again. "No matter where you are, you'll still see the same sun and moon as us. You can look at them, and know…we're here for you, Milo. We love you."
I take the pendant with trembling fingers and string it about my neck.
"Thanks," I say, but all I can think is: wow, that's so fucking cheesy it makes me want to vomit.
A Peacekeeper utters a word of warning, and suddenly I'm covered in warm arms, my face peppered with kisses, every inch of me covered. My mother wraps her arms around my waist, Martin on my lap, Mirriam smoothing my hair and everywhere I look there's love and affection and tears.
Too soon they're gone, and I'm alone with nothing but my thoughts and my time. Ticking away. I can see all of District 11, people dispersing from the crowds and fanning out to work, eat, drink, cry. My family will bolt their doors. There is no celebratory dinner for them.
Looking at the people, I feel a pang of longing slam into me. My family, my District, my future. I don't want to leave a single thing here behind.
Well, except Old Man Granville. Fuck that guy.
A/N: Hey guys! Celtic here! Please please please go on the forum! Check in, say hi, fill out your tribute's interview in the interviews topic! There are new deadlines for the Capitol chapters that are VERY important because even if they're all on time it'll still be July before we're in the Games. But PLEASE go make sure you know what you're doing and when to aim to be done with it. And the interviwes topic. Maybe I'll start a Training RP. PLEASE check in though! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, awesome writing you guys!