A/N - Welcome to Blood Moon: The 117th Hunger Games!
This story is a part of an alternate Hunger Games universe in which the Second Rebellion failed and the Games continued. Blood Moon is the fifth entry in the series but is a spinoff - prior reading of the other stories is not required but is definitely encouraged!
As a guide, this story takes place after Rising From the Ashes and Twin Snakes chronologically and will feature some characters introduced in those stories, although they are in minor roles. Additionally, the main narrator of this story, Luna Brimstone, is featured heavily in Ultimate Crown, so I recommend reading that story before starting this one. With that being said, this story can be read completely on its own, so it's totally up to the reader.
I always like to have an overarching theme in each of my stories. The theme of this story is the importance of interpersonal relationships in our lives and how they can force us to evolve. I wanted to explore an unreliable narrator in this story, and at times Luna's narration may seem naive, overly optimistic, or desperate, and this is intentional, so keep that in mind, as it's an intentional choice by the author. Hopefully, Luna's journey to her darker self in Ultimate Crown will become more apparent as this story evolves.
I hope you enjoy, and let's get right into the first chapter!
I grunt as I haul an oversized trash bag over my shoulder and into the dumpster, slamming the lid of the metal container back down with a bang. Still panting with exertion, I make my way inside. They should really get one of the boys to take out the trash; I don't know why Martha makes me, the smallest and weakest of the crew, do it myself, but I've never been one to question her decisions.
Once I'm back inside, I take hold of my vacuum, rolling it down the long, winding halls of the power plant. By now, I have these hallways memorized; there's hardly a map of them anywhere, but after three years on the job, I've learned my way around the place.
"Come on, Luna," I mutter. "Almost done now."
It's been a long week for the power plant cleaning crew - apparently, the Capitol wants to shoot new footage of District Five for their broadcasts, and they've chosen our plant to be the main filming site. With the Reapings coming up, it's a perfect opportunity to shoot footage of the plant while it's empty without disrupting any regular activity. Unfortunately, that means that I've been working nonstop for the last week; I've never seen Martha be so hard on us in the three years I've been working here, and I've never seen her be so stressed, either.
Martha's in the storage closet when I enter, and she glances back at me with a frazzled look on her face.
"Oh, Luna," she sighs. "Could you reach the sponges on the top shelf? I'll deal with that."
Martha grabs the vacuum from my hand, and I reach over the short woman's head to reach a box of sponges.
"Thank you, dear," Martha exhales. "You checked all the offices? Even Freeman's?"
"Even Freeman's," I confirm. Freeman is the boss in this section of the plant, and he's always the last to leave at night; we aren't allowed to empty the trash in offices that are still occupied, so sometimes his trash ends up overflowing, and Martha gets us in trouble.
"You didn't just vacuum the rooms, did you? You got the hallway, too?" the small woman asks, sifting through the sponges.
"I got the hallway, too," I sigh. "Everything looks great."
I can tell that Martha's about to ask me another anxious question, but luckily, we're interrupted by Ciara.
"All done," she tells Martha, setting a mop bucket down next to me. "Everything's set."
"Perfect," Martha says. "I'll do another run-through tonight, of course. You girls are good to go; make sure you get some rest tonight, alright?"
"Thanks, Martha," Ciara says, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the closet with her.
"She's a wreck," I tell Ciara as we hastily make our way down the hallway. "I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't make it through the night."
"That bathroom was nasty," Ciara says, scrunching her nose. "She's acting like they're going to be filming the toilets and everything."
I just laugh, holding the door open for Ciara.
"Oh, I have news!" Ciara exclaims. "I can't believe I almost forgot, I've been waiting all day to tell you."
My heart sinks. I already know what this news is going to be, and I know that it's going to hurt me to hear it.
"Jossie says that the baby arrived last night," Ciara says, her eyes bright. "A girl!"
"That's great," I say as convincingly as I can, but I feel sick. "Have they chosen a name yet?"
"I didn't ask," Ciara says. "Jossie probably knows. I'll ask tonight."
"Well, thanks for telling me," I say with a smile. "Tell Jossie I say thanks, too."
"I will," Ciara says, giving me a quick hug. "Good luck tomorrow - you're scheduled again on Monday, right?"
"Always," I say, rolling my eyes. "Can't seem to escape it, can I?"
Ciara laughs, giving me a wave as she crosses the street toward her family's apartment. I continue down the street, and I try to keep my gaze on the ground to stop myself from getting overwhelmed.
More than anything, I feel ashamed that I have to rely on my best friend's brother for information on my own brother's life. At the same time, though, Damien did it to himself. It was his decision for him to leave, not mine, but why should I have to live with the consequences of that?
I think the reason that I feel so sick is that for the first time, I can't convince myself anymore that Damien is coming back. For the last two years, I always hoped that it would be a phase, that he'd come around and realize that he'd made a mistake. Bit by bit, though, I felt that hope slipping away.
Now, Damien has a family of his own. At eighteen years old, he has a girlfriend and a daughter. Soon enough, he'll marry her, and he'll never have to think about me or our father again.
I swing the door to my apartment, and I'm met with a wave of stench. I sigh as I slip my shoes off - I know that I need to clean this place, but having to work a cleaning job every day means that I have no energy to clean my own place. The dishes have started piling out of the sink now, and the accumulating garbage hasn't made the apartment smell any better, either.
Oh, well. I do have an extra day off this week with the Reapings taking place tomorrow, so I might be able to tackle some of the cleaning over the weekend.
I walk over to my father and give him a kiss on the cheek. He's staring at the television, but it doesn't seem like he's paying much attention.
"How was work?" he asks, clearing his throat.
"Fine," I sigh. "Just getting ready for the Reaping tomorrow."
"Hmm, I didn't know that was tomorrow," my dad murmurs, turning his gaze back to the television.
I pause for a moment, unsure of whether or not I should tell him the news about Damien. I know better than that, though; if the news of Damien's daughter was enough to make me feel nauseous, who knows what it could do to my dad. I never even told him that Damien's girlfriend was pregnant in the first place.
"Call me if you need anything," I tell my father. He just nods as I head toward my bedroom.
I sigh as I drop onto my bed. Even two years later, I feel stuck between a rock and a hard place. I want so badly to be a part of my brother's life, but I know that I can't do that while still living with my father. At the same time, I can't just leave my father to rot here alone. It wouldn't feel right.
Who knows - maybe things can change. Tomorrow is Damien's last time in the Reaping bowl; maybe once he's free from the fear of the Games, once he no longer holds a grudge against my father for forcing him into taking tesserae, he'll give me a chance.
I've always been the pessimistic one between Damien and me, and right now, I'm worried about him. Unless the rules of the Reaping are changed, Damien's name will be in the Reaping bowl 20 times this year. Especially with his daughter just being born, this year would be the worst for him to be Reaped, and I just know that it's going to happen...
Stop it, Luna, I scold myself. Now is not the time to be thinking like that. Damien and I will both be fine tomorrow, as we always have, and maybe, just maybe, I'll have a chance to get my brother back. I just have to play my cards right.
