Chapter Two: No one Wins the Games.
Maize was horrified. Before then, she had been obliviously unaware of the Games. Her parents never mentioned the accursed events in the house and many of the adults purposefully avoided the subject around young children in an attempt to preserve the innocence of the kids for as long as they could. The Games were taboo to speak of. Especially around the Orchard and other farming areas where Peacekeepers practically breathed on their backs as they supervised their work.
It was the first reaping she had witnessed; Maize had been so confused as the colorful and flamboyant Capitolite man introduced himself and the event before screening the small clip about the Dark Days and the War that had led to the creation of the Games. Maize had stared up at the screen in acute horror as the events of a trilogy she'd once read as a child in her first life started to come back to her and realization dawned upon her mind. This was real. It wasn't simply a twisted post-apocalyptic Game from a book series she'd once read.
It was real.
Aloe was in the crowd of children.
Dread had crawled up her spine and she'd gripped onto the hand of Aloe's six-year-old sister and her favorite playmate, Amla. Her female cousin was only physically a year older than she and didn't know why everyone was so afraid of what was happening around them but even fear hadn't managed to pass over her as the reaping continued. Her cousin, a boy who had yet to even become a teen was in a crowd of children waiting- praying not to be reaped for a gladiator-style match to the death.
Maize's mother had originally gone to bring silent comfort and support for her sister and brother-in-law as they waited in the crowds with other concerned parents and ergo so had she. Maize had watched in silent despair as her mother had to hold her sister back and bury the woman's face into her collarbone to prevent her Aunt's sobs from gaining the attention of the Peacekeepers when Aloe's name had been called. Her Uncle had just stared rigidly at the Panem insignia, his hands balled into furious fists as he trembled in visible rage. Maize couldn't prevent the tears brimming in her eyes from falling as Amla also burst into tears. No one volunteered to take his place.
They were allowed a measly five minutes filled with hugs and kisses, sobs and soon to be broken promises of return, before the Peacekeepers dragged them away and Aloe boarded the sleek futuristic train to what was sure to be his death.
Aloe had looked so small compared to the other tributes chosen for the Hunger Games.
Aloe never came back home.
Her parents had allowed her to watch the beginning of the Games. Seeing the crowds in the Capitol go wild as twenty-four children were paraded around in fancy costumes being pulled by chariots, had disgusted Maize. Aloe's interview with Caesar Flickerman was painful to watch, but not as painful to witness the brutal death of her cousin in the blood bath during the first five minutes of the Games. Her parents hadn't let her watch the rest. Not that she had complained too much, her grief and sorrow consuming her much like the rest of her family.
It was two weeks later that her mother had dragged her sister's family to live with them in their home. The small family had broken with the death of their child. Her mother had whispered to her during one of the sleepless nights following Aloe's death that family was a precious commodity, even more precious than the grain and fruit they needed to eat to survive. Family was all one had in the end, and to be able to care and hold that family was the biggest gift one could have. In a world where children could be ripped away from the arms of their families and forced to fight... Maize understood, she understood something that a real child her age shouldn't have to. Her mother had held her tight that night. And the following night, and every night after that for months.
Amla didn't have that comfort for very long.
When the winner of the Games, a sixteen-year-old from District 10, visited during the Victor's Tour six months later, Maize had stood stoically by Amla's side as her cousin sobbed in her arms. Her Aunt had fallen ill soon after her son's death and never recovered, nothing her mother would do helped and Amla was forced to watch her mother wither away and die soon after her brother had. Maize silently promised that she would be the strong tree her cousin needed to lean on from then on.
Her heartbroken Uncle Banyan was held in the comforting arms of both her parents as he struggled to stand on the podium out of grief. His tears were silent in nature as they streamed down his dark skin. Her mother's cries were also silent as her chest rose, her rounded belly pressing into her Uncle's side. Maize's father showed no visible emotion as he held onto them, but his eyes were filled with grief.
The new Victor had refused to look at the podiums with families of the fallen tributes. She hadn't killed Aloe, but she had been allied with the teen who had, and she had killed their female tribute Azolla. Despite the role she played in the death of her cousin, Maize couldn't find it in her to hate the girl. Grief seemed to cling to the Victor's form. Her voice monotonous and without inflection.
The brief eye contact she had with the Victor had made the teen almost flinch away, the girl's green eyes screamed that she was broken and remorseful. That's when she learned possibly the most important lesson in her new life.
No one really won the Games.
They just survived them.
Everything that followed after that was still survival in a different seemingly less dangerous setting.
No matter how seemingly arrogant or self-assured the Victor seemed to pose on the camera to the nation as they were paraded from District to District.
Words: 1,021
Edited: October 20, 2019