The Volunteer
The first thing I see when I wake up is two grey eyes staring back at me, only inches away from my face. They belong to a girl. They're a beautiful storm grey and they seem to shine by themselves. She notices that I woke up, for she withdraws.
"Gale, he's awake," she says to somebody out of my line of vision. A shadow encompasses me, and a second pair of grey eyes looks down at me. "Hey, can you move?" a male voice asks.
I try to move my head but the instant I turn it upwards, a jolt of pain shoots through my neck and I immediately drop it. A groan escapes my lips. The girl hovers over me, worry written over her face.
"Gale, we need to get him to my mother," says the girl. I hear a frustrated groan. "This could get us into a lot of trouble. How on earth did this guy even get here?" Yes. Good question. How did I end up here? And where is here anyway?
I try to speak up, but a cough is the only thing I bring out. The girl puts a hand on my chest. "Shhh, don't talk,"
She turns towards Gale "He's losing a lot of blood. We need to move him now,"
Gale sighs. "Okay, let's get him to your mother,"
The girl stands up and I feel two sets of hands gripping my legs and shoulders. She says: "This is going to hurt, but we must somehow get you across the fence, and we don't have a lot of time. Predators could have picked up your smell already," I bring up all the energy I have and croak: "Name?" The girl understands. "My name is Katniss," Then they lift me up and the pain descends me into darkness.
"He's lost a lot of blood, but he'll probably make it," A voice says.
"I've never seen him before," the second voice belongs to a child.
I try to open my eyes, but the lids feel heavier than a tree trunk. A door creaks and I fall back into the void.
When I wake up again, the weight of my eyelids doesn't seem to be as insurmountable, and I manage to take a look at what seems to be the ceiling of a room. I turn my head to my left. I'm alone in a small room on what seems to be a cot. A dilapidated window discloses the rainy weather outside. Other than the dim light that shines through the window, there's no other light source. The door at the other end of the room creaks and a middle-aged woman enters my room, with a plate. She halts when she meets my gaze. "You're awake," she says. I don't dare to speak yet, so I simply nod.
The woman closes the distance between us and sets the tray down on a little nightstand. "I brought you some food," I glance at it. My facial expression must've revealed my thoughts and she added: "It's rabbit and some goat cheese. Not much but I'm afraid we have nothing else to offer," I shake my head. "No, it's…" I can hardly get the words out. My throat feels like I haven't talked in months. "It's fine, really. I just didn't know what it was,"
The woman doesn't reply but stares almost suspiciously at me. Then she begins to feed me bit by bit. I want to protest and insist that I can feed myself, but I quickly realize I'm too weak to even raise a hand. After a while of silence, she speaks up: "Don't you have rabbit where you're from?"
Do we have rabbit where I'm from? Wait. From where am I? What is a rabbit? No. I know what a rabbit is. When she said rabbit, I got a mental image of a small animal with long ears. But… I can't really fathom it. I can't remember. I don't have any memories!
I didn't notice until now, because I couldn't miss what I didn't know I didn't have. But everybody has memories. I know that. But apparently, I don't have them anymore. I don't even know… my name! What is my name? A blank space in my head is the answer. I begin to panic. My breath takes up speed. I can feel my pulse throbbing against my temples.
The woman noticed it as well as she starts to say something to me. Words I don't hear. I only hear the sounds, but my mind isn't registering anything right now. In that very moment two people step into the room. I recognize on of them. Katniss. The familiar grey eyes calm me down a bit. Next to her is another girl, smaller in stature with bright blue eyes. The smaller girl runs up to the woman, and hands her a little flask. "Here, drink this," the woman says and holds the flask to my lips. She forces the liquid down my throat before I can react. Tiredness begins to spread through my body, my breathing slows down, my eyelids struggle to stay open. The last thing I see are Katniss' storm grey eyes, defined with worry.
I wake up with a splitting headache. I groan and palpate my head carefully. There's a bandage going around it. I touch it and flinch back immediately. Ouch. I look around. It's nighttime. I can see well in the darkness – it must be close to full moon. I pause. How do I know that? A sigh escapes my lips. Never mind. I try to remember something, anything. But all I get is a wave of headaches, each consecutive getting stronger than the last one. There's no use in trying, I tell myself. But despite the headache I feel more awake, and I get the sense that I might be able to sit up. I dare and it works. My body follows my directions and in no time I sit upright. Great.
It's hard to estimate, but my body feels a lot better than I thought it should feel after that much hardship. Yes, the headache is still there, but other than that I feel... fine. Will I be able to stand up? After a few minutes of contemplating it, I dare again. My legs don't collapse. A smile forms on my lips. Big success!
What now?
Should I walk around? I take a careful step. I'm a little dizzy, but I don't fall. I manage a few more steps and then I'm at the door. I open it gingerly, but it gives off a terrible screech anyway. Has anybody heard it? Before I can ponder if I should go back, I'm met with whose silvery grey eyes again. It's Katniss.
Her expression is cold, almost emotionless but I spot a slight nervousness in it as well. She stands behind a closed door, almost protectively. The grey nightgown she's wearing can't hide her thin appearance. Her hair – almost black in the dim light – is falling down her shoulders in smooth waves. She doesn't wear any shoes. I must've woken her up.
"I've been awake for most of the night, if that's what you're wondering." She read my thoughts. Does she mistrust me? Is she standing guard? I think on my feet on how to make her more comfortable around me. But how should she familiarize herself with me, if I don't even know who I am?
"Hi," I say hoarsely. "Katniss, right?"
She eyes me warily. "Correct, and you are?"
I don't answer for a while. What should I tell her? The truth? I guess that's the best option right now.
"I don't remember my name," The moment I said it, I feel grief swell up inside me, but I push it away. Maybe my mind just needs some time to come back to normal. Katniss gives me a confused stare.
"Oh," is her eventual answer. "I'm sorry to hear that,"
"It's alright," I say but even I can hear how unconvincing I sound. We stare at each other in awkward silence for a few moments.
"You don't remember anything?" she initiates. Her grey eyes seem to gaze right into my soul, and it makes me shift uncomfortably. "Correct,"
"Then how do you know how to talk?" Good question. How do I know some things like what a rabbit looks like and the fact that people have names, or how to use words, and how do I even know the meaning of 'word'? "I guess when I hurt my head, I must've lost only my personal memories. I don't know if that makes any sense, but I haven't had much time to figure this out," My words almost sound defensive. "Although, if a memory returns, you'll be the first one to know about that. Okay?"
She nods warily but doesn't say anything. I awkwardly fumble at my head only to flinch again at the searing pain. Idiot, I tell myself.
"You must've hit your head pretty hard then. You lost a lot of blood when we carried you to my mother." Oh, that's right. Her mother. She had mentioned her before they carried me, and I blacked out. I grimace at the memory of the incident.
"You saved me." I utter. "Thank you,"
She simply shrugs. "You're welcome, I guess." She glances downward on my chest for a split second only to blush and fix her gaze back on my eyes. "I see your other wound healed well." Surprised, I look down. I gasp. Across my chest runs a red gash. From the left all the way to the right. If it had been bleeding when Katniss found me, it must've healed rather quickly. But that depends on how long I've been here. I also notice that I'm not wearing a shirt.
"How long have I been here already?" I ask her. She answers: "Five days."
Five days isn't too long. But then again, too long for what exactly? Was I doing something important? Doesn't matter now, I tell myself.
She takes the initiative. "I've never seen you here in District 12 before. When I found you, it was outside the forest of Twelve." She pauses and looks at me, hoping for an answer. She can barely contain her curiosity.
"As I said, I have no personal memories" I start "but I doubt that I'm from here, if nobody has come to see me yet," my last statement is more of a question. Katniss shakes her head. I swallow. It's true then. I'm most likely not from around.
"Are you hungry?" she asks.
My stomach growls in response. Embarrassed I put my hand on it. Katniss gives off a faint hint of a smile and waves me to follow her into what seems to be a kitchen. As I follow her steps, I can't help but admire her smooth pace. Her bare feet don't make a sound. She simply glides in front of me. In the kitchen she hands me some cold meat, probably rabbit again, and I greedily feast on it, gulping it down in a matter of seconds.
A thought rises in me. "What is going to happen to me now?" I ask her. Since I don't have a place I could call home, this seems like an appropriate question to me. Katniss looks away for a second. "I don't know. I tried asking around the Hob if anybody is missing and I described you to them, but nobody knows a thing. I guess…" she trails off. "You should talk with my mother about this. Tomorrow,"
"Okay, see you tomorrow then?"
"Yes, good night," She turns on her heels and exits the kitchen. I find myself missing her vicinity as soon as she leaves the place and I realize for the first time that I am lonely. Sadness rises in me. I look outside the window and see the outlines of buildings across a street. My gaze fixes on the bright moon above. Who am I? I ask the moon, almost hoping for an answer. But the moon stays silent.
The next day, the Everdeens – that's what they say is their family name – invite me over for breakfast. The small girl is also there, her name is Prim, and she keeps stealing looks at me over the course of the meal which consists mainly of goat cheese.
"Are you from outside Twelve?" she blurts out.
"Prim!" hisses Mrs. Everdeen "Don't say these things out loud. Besides," she looks at me "he's lost his memories due to his head injury,"
Prim closes her mouth shut and stares at the food in her plate. "Sorry," she murmurs.
I can't help but smile at her spirit. "It's okay, but what your mother said, is true. I can't remember a thing, not even remotely,"
"But you remember what a rabbit is," says Katniss nonchalantly although with a little touch of suspicion in her voice. She's still not fully trusting me. Is she waiting for me to contradict myself? Am I not doing that already? "That's correct." I admit. "And I can't really make sense of it, but…" Mrs. Everdeen interrupts me. "I've heard of this happening once before, although I've never seen it, not until now." Her eyes meet mine and I can see some sympathy in them.
Prim says: "So you don't know anything about the games then?"
I frown "Games?"
"Yes, the Hunger Games," I look at Katniss for aid. What's so important about those 'Hunger Games'?
"The Annual Hunger Games in which two participants of every of the twelve Districts of Panem must fight to the death until only one victor remains," says Katniss with a slight accent in her voice. Prim stays silent. I can't put my hand quite on it, but that accent sounded almost somewhat familiar.
"Panem?" I ask.
"Oh boy," sighs Katniss and seemingly slumps down as if she lost any energy to talk to me.
For the next hour the three of them give me a brief summary of the world, that is to say, the state of Panem. What a district is, what the Hunger Games are, and why they can't afford much more other than rabbits, hunted by Katniss and goat cheese from a goat named "Lady".
To say I'm appalled would be an understatement.
"So, they send twelve-year-olds to die in an arena for the enjoyment of the residents of the Capitol?" I ask, not believing the words I heard.
They all nod in silence. A dark expression looms on their faces.
"And the next Reaping is in two weeks?" I ask again. Nodding is the answer.
Kids are being sent to die. Districts living in poverty. A regime oppressing an entire country. Have I really been living in such a world for the past… for how long? How old am I?
"Mrs. Everdeen, how old do you think I am?" She scrutinizes my face and says: "You're probably a bit older than Katniss – who is 16. Maybe 17 or 18?"
17 or 18. That means I'm still at reaping age. But to be reaped you would need to have a name.
As if she had read my thoughts Prim asks: "You can't remember your name?"
My name. What did others call me? I try my best to remember, to get a glimpse of a concept of a name. The headache starts to set in again. I massage my temples in hopes to subdue the ache, but it doesn't achieve its desired effect. My name. What is my name? I close my eyes. Heat rushes through my head. I try to conjure the memory of somebody calling out my name. My name. Could it be… I get a faint glimpse of something. Some person calling it. Ceiv… Ceivan? No. Ceiran? Yes. That's it!
"My name is Ceiran. I think," I add, in case I'm mistaken. But I don't think so, truthfully told. Yes. Ceiran is my name.
"Ceiran" Mrs. Everdeen says aloud. "Not a common name in District Twelve." I shrug.
"I like it!" Prim blurts. "It's unique." Katniss doesn't say anything, she simply observes me with an indecipherable gaze.
"Where should he stay?" she asks eventually. For a moment there is only silence. I begin to worry. Will they have me leave this place? Where should I go once that happens?
Mrs. Everdeen seems to contemplate her answer carefully. "Right now, this is not up for discussion. He will need a few more days of rest, before he's able to really go anywhere,"
Katniss looks like she wants to interject, but seemingly changes her mind and averts her eyes. A bit later Mrs. Everdeen has me lie down again, ignoring my protests and before I know it, I fall asleep.
On the next day, Mrs. Everdeen offers me to stay here with them for a while under the condition that I'm assisting them, by gathering roots and herbs, cleaning up the house and helping wherever I'm needed. I readily agree with a nod so vigorous, I almost feel dizzy afterwards.
The next two weeks I spend less and less time in my cot and I've been pretty much everywhere in the District. I even paid a visit to the coal mines, and I can't say I ever want to go back there again, despite having only seen the entrance of one of the shafts. I still smell a tinge of coal whenever I think about them. Katniss has been spending most of her time with Gale hunting in the woods and whenever I see these two together, I can't help but feel a little lonely and even a little… what is it that I'm feeling? Envy?
When I met Gale for the first time officially, he was even rougher than Katniss and that says something. While their eye colors are almost identical, there's one distinct difference. There's a severity in his grey gaze whenever I meet his. A severity that is replaced with compassion in Katniss' eyes. And while I'm grateful for his aid in saving my life, I never seem to be able to fully loosen up in his presence.
At first there were quite a few people wondering who I was, but Mrs. Everdeen came up with the explanation that I was sick for a long time and had stayed indoors for the greater part of the year. I've been an orphan for most of my life and right now I live at the Everdeen household. Surprisingly this excuse worked. Probably due to the fact that most people were too busy trying not to starve to death, they didn't care about some stray kid. And the peacekeepers were too negligent to bother.
I never join Katniss on her hunting trips, and I can't help but feel a little useless every time I see her come back with her game, while I kneel in the meadow next to the fence picking herbs. But I keep my mouth shut and do my task. Mrs. Everdeen needs them for her patients, and I enjoy being in the meadow. It's a serene place and helps me divert my attention from my gloomy thoughts. For the longer I go without remembering my past, the more annoyed I feel with myself.
On the morning of the Reaping, I see Katniss and Gale coming back with game and I wave at them. She awkwardly waves back and passes by me without saying a word. Gale doesn't even wave back. I let out a deep sigh. I've been trying to get on friendlier terms with Katniss but any approach from my side is dismissed with a frigid manner as if I were begging for food. And in her eyes maybe I'm doing just that. The people in Twelve have enough problems as it is with feeding their own families. Giving off food to a stranger is something most people simply can't afford. One night I overheard a discussion between Katniss and Mrs. Everdeen. Katniss complained about me being a millstone around their necks – whatever a millstone is – but I had to admit to myself that she's right. My share of the tasks could be easily completed by Prim. Mrs. Everdeen had said: "And where should he go? Do you want to condemn him to starve in the streets? Send him out into the forest to be eaten by a pack of wild dogs?" she halted in her speech "Look Katniss, this isn't going to be forever. As soon as he's familiarized himself with the District he can look for a job and then he will have his own roof over his head." For a while, Katniss didn't respond. "One week and then he leaves," was her final statement.
This was five days ago.
A job. Where should I get a job at? At the mines? I didn't even have a family name. And for the life of me, I can't imagine working in those bottomless shafts for the rest of my life. I would pick the dogs over such a fate. The past few days I've been thinking on how I could make myself to be of use, but honestly, I've got no clue. I don't have any special talents, I think. And if I had them, they're forgotten, probably forever. Katniss and Gale saved my life, but I'm not sure if they start regretting it. Life is hard. From their point of view, I don't have much of a future anyway. So why not let nature take its course and have me die in the woods? A part of me agrees with them. Another part desperately hopes that she doesn't think about me in that way.
Regarding Gale, I've already made up my mind. He probably just thinks they delayed my death by saving me and he regards me as ballast to the Everdeens. And also… I'm not entirely convinced, but I caught something in his eyes the other day. Was it just contempt, or was it something else? I noticed how he stares at Katniss when she doesn't pay attention. When I think about it now, it's obvious that he likes her more than the way friends like each other. But does Katniss feel the same way?
My stomach twists involuntarily at the thought of that. Although I've only known Katniss for less than three weeks, the idea of Gale and Katniss being more than friends leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I think back about the glance Gale sent me the other day. Does he see me as a rival to Katniss? Is he jealous that I live in their house? Possibly.
Suddenly I remember why I'm here in the first place and I continue my job of digging out the roots, no matter how degrading it feels.
I arrive back at what I call my temporary home. The atmosphere is tense. Prim has been on edge the last few days and Mrs. Everdeen seems more stressed out than usual. Katniss tries her best to seal her emotions shut, but her partially chewed-off fingernails give her away. They dress in the best clothes they have, while I sit on the cot in my room, waiting for Mrs. Everdeen to tell me what to do.
I only got one set of clothes. The ones I had when Katniss found me in the forest. A pair of brown shoes with strings, brown pants and a blue shirt, plus my underwear. The blood has been mostly washed out and I guess I look presentable enough for daily chores but from what I understood, one must look his very best at the Reaping, in case they get picked. I shiver. But not because I'm afraid of being picked. I haven't seen any of the Hunger Games and therefore can't fully relate to the fear the other people in the District must feel right now. But at the thought of someone like Prim, or worse, Katniss, getting picked, my heart clenches in my chest.
Mrs. Everdeen enters my room with a garment. It's a simple forest green shirt with buttons of the same color. "Wear this," she said and handed it to me with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It belonged to my late husband, who wore it on his last Reaping."
"Oh," I clear my throat "Thank you Mrs. Everdeen," I understand that this is no usual gift. Mrs. Everdeen hands me a white undershirt from one of the closets and I try both on. The green shirt fits just right. The fabric is a bit coarse but it's still comfortable. As I exit the room, I'm immediately aware of Katniss' stare. I force myself to turn in her direction. To my surprise she doesn't scowl. Her look is a distant one. As if she's not really here. Obviously, she knows whose shirt this was. I shift from one foot to the other and try to think of something to say, but before I can utter anything, she seems to snap out of her daydream and quickly turns on her heels, calling for her sister. I sigh and I can't help but notice how beautiful she looks in her blue dress.
All four of us leave the house and make our way over to the Justice Building. Mrs. Everdeen said that I should follow Gale who we'll meet on our way. He will show me the 17-year-old corral. My name isn't in the bowl, so I have nothing to worry about. The Peacekeepers most likely won't bother me. If they would, I'd have a story prepared. I can only hope it's convincing enough.
We meet Gale shortly before the square. "Follow me," is all he says. I awkwardly turn around to the Everdeens, but I don't know of anything appropriate to say, so I nod a 'goodbye' and follow Gale's quick pace. He's walking fast. Almost like he wants me to stay behind. But I keep up with him, which – of course – he doesn't acknowledge. I don't think we'll ever get along.
The square in front of the Justice Building is brimming with people – mainly with kids. The parents are farther away, worry etched into their faces. The kids are all as spruce as their circumstances allow them to be. The difference between the people living in the wealthier parts of the District and the people from the Seam is striking though.
Gale and I take our places, respectively he shows me mine and before I can turn around to thank him, he's already moved up to his peers in the 18-year-old corral. I find myself at the receiving end of a bunch of confused stares of the other kids. Some already saw me in the District in the last two weeks, but most of them haven't and they most certainly haven't seen me at school. Which as far as I remember, every kid should attend in theory.
I decide to ignore them. Focus on your own business guys.
There are three chairs on a temporary stage. In one of them sits a tall balding man. The other is occupied by the oddest thing I've ever seen in my past two weeks that I call 'my life'. A woman sits in the chair. Her pink hair is almost terrifying. No way this is actually her real hair. The green suit doesn't exactly make her seem more natural. I find myself almost having to laugh at how ridiculous she looks and the odd way she behaves. But nobody else seems to be amused, or at least they hide it well enough. Considering the terrifying circumstances this is understandable. And I realize again, how out of place I am here.
The tall man stands up as soon as the clock strikes two and moves over to the podium. He holds a speech about the history of Panem, the natural catastrophes that happened in the distant past, the Capitol, the uprising, the Dark Days. Then he speaks about the Hunger Games and although I can tell he doesn't agree with them in the slightest, he talks about them as if they're an honorable thing. In that moment I can see Katniss looking back in my direction – probably searching for Gale, but her eyes lock with mine. I raise an eyebrow at her, displaying my contempt for the whole charade and she gives me the faintest hint of a smile as an answer. A simple gesture which already makes my heart flutter.
The man goes on to read off the list of the past victors of District Twelve – in the last 74 years there were only two. And as if on command, the only victor who is still alive staggers onto the stage. He's obviously drunk and he tries to give the odd-looking woman a hug which she barely manages to fend off. I snort aloud and get weird glances from some of the guys next to me in response.
Finally, the woman trots to the podium and with a bright face she says: "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" She then keeps on talking about some other things I don't pay any attention to, as I'm distracted by the way her hair is a slightly off-center. It must be fake. No way people can grow hair like this.
The woman goes: "Ladies first!"
I can almost physically feel how tense the air suddenly gets. The faces of the other kids around me become even more grim than before and I see some trembling in the rows of the younger ones.
It's as if time stood still. Any amusement I felt before about the odd woman is gone in an instant. She moves over to the glass bowl containing the names of the girls and pulls out one single slip of paper.
She opens it and reads aloud: "Primrose Everdeen,"
I stand there in shock. What? No. There's no way this is happening. Not Prim. Not the kind girl, who everybody couldn't help but adore. She was the first person to be truly friendly and welcoming to me. I've seen how she treats other people and how they treat her. She doesn't deserve this fate. This is wrong.
I'm stopped in my thoughts when I hear: "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"
In shock, I focus my gaze on the person who spoke – it's Katniss. And she has moved over and pushed Prim behind her protectively. Oh no. This has got to be a joke. Not her. Suddenly the world feels very unreal to me, as if I'm dreaming. I don't know how long I'm being kept in this trance. I faintly recognize Prim screaming her lungs out. Gale moves over and picks a crying Prim up. He whispers something to Katniss and then I watch her with strained eyes as she makes her way onto the stage.
Is this real? Katniss announces her name on stage: "Katniss Everdeen," she says, her voice defiant but trembling at the same time.
The woman encourages us to applaud for Katniss, but nobody does. Instead, after a few moments of utter silence, people all around me do the same thing; they touch the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and then hold them out to her. It's a strange gesture to me, but it must mean something to the people of Twelve. I'm one of the few who doesn't follow suit – simply because I don't feel like I'm a part of this 'thing' – whatever it is.
Then the drunk victor staggers his way over to where Katniss stands. He throws an arm around her shoulder and yells: "I like her!" He continues to shout a few other things at some devices pointing in his directions – are those cameras? Yes, that's right. Cameras. They feel oddly familiar. All of a sudden, the drunk plummets off the stage and knocks himself unconscious.
I would've laughed at the situation if I had not been in a state of despair. Katniss is going to participate in the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games. I let it sink in. She's going to possibly die in an arena far away from here. Just to protect her sister. From what I understood, there's people in other Districts with a higher probability of survival and Katniss being from Twelve, ends up at the lower end of said spectrum. First, she saves my life, then she feeds me and now she's being sent off to die and there's nothing I can do to help her. She will die thinking I'm a useless idiot and she's right. If only there was some way…
Wait.
There are always two tributes – a boy and a girl. That means the woman will announce the boy next. My name isn't in the pot. But Katniss also wasn't picked. She volunteered.
The woman announces the name of the male tribute "Peeta Mellark,"
Before I can even consider what I'm doing, my hand shoots in the air and I yell: "I volunteer as tribute!"
Hello everyone! :D
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Let me know in the comments.
This is a cross-post from AO3.