~There Must be More (Open)

Harrell Lennox

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It was sunrise. Not many people wandered District Four that early on a Sunday. Any other day, the early morning fishermen would be out and about, but on Sundays, work started a few hours later. But one girl was awake. She stood at the edge of the ocean, watching the tint of the sky change. Watching being a metaphorical term. She was really thinking. She stared at the sky, but she didn't really see. Not that the girl minded. Sunrise was the best time for thinking, regardless of someone's appreciation, or lack of, for nature.

A small mumble. "There has to be something else."

Harrell Lennox gave a small shiver as the cold ocean water surged around her boots. She turned another smooth, round stone over and over in her hands and stared at the waves. She had been lost in her own mind for quite some time now. Of course, for Harrell, that was normal. She was thinking about her future again. Ever since she had been little, her future had been the Hunger Games. Just like every other Lennox, she would volunteer at the age of eighteen. As long as she lived with her father, she wouldn't have a choice. There was no escape. Unless...

No, she couldn't run away. She couldn't leave Kylie. Harrell narrowed her eyes and threw the stone with as much force as she could muster. It made a satisfying splash several yards out. Why was her future written out for her? Harrell didn't know what she wanted to do with her life. All she knew was that she didn't want this. She had seen the Games kill two of her siblings, the first mentally and the second physically. She wouldn't let it happen to her. She couldn't. But she was so helpless. The Reaping was approaching quickly. She was sixteen. One more Reaping and if she hadn't been chosen yet, she would be in the arena, fighting for her life. She had two more years to live.

Harrell hurled another rock toward the breaking waves. A satisfying glow or anger filled her. Something about the force felt right. She wanted to scream her hatred of the Capitol. But she couldn't. Release of anger and attempted suicide were two different things. The girl let her freckled arms drop to her sides and kicked the water violently. She envisioned that water running red with blood in a deadly arena, as the spear of a teenager entered her heart and....


That wasn't me. That was my sister.

Might as well be me.

Will be me.

What am I going to do?

"What am I going to do?" she repeated her last thought.

Sunrise was a beautiful time to think, if one was alone. It was also an excellent time to break down and cry. Which is exactly what Harrell did.[/color][/size][/blockquote]