Castor Karmichael {D7}

Castor Karmichael

It was an hour before sunset. There was a tinge of orange behind the overcast, warning the residents of inevitable darkness and silence. People in the markets were rushing to collect their groceries last minute, and loiterers in the District Square had their eyes glued to the super sized television screen. As they absorbed the latest news and Panem gossip - whispers rising above the hum of the crowd a bit more loudly than usual - little Castor wandered into the market with an infant strapped to her chest. "Let's find you some cheap food, Ellise," she cooed, watching the chubby arms and legs squirm in front of her.

She idly browsed the fruits and vegetables, longing for a bite when it was Ellise she was meant to be feeding. Her twin brother was somewhere behind her, probably contemplating dad's mood swings again (about how he wanted nothing to do with a child he hadn't planned, especially one that killed mom during childbirth), and honestly it wasn't the furthest subject from her mind either. But they had responsibilities of their own now, and dad's behavior was not one of them.

She managed to scrounge up a few inexpensive jars of baby formula and handed them to Jano to store away in his bag. Ellise was already a limp mass of sleepiness against her chest, her little snores as quiet as whispers and as gentle as butterfly wings. She beamed at the poor infant, who knew nothing about what her birth had caused, and vowed never to let it bother her. "Okay, we got what we needed. Let's go," she said to her twin, gesturing for him to follow her through the Square.

As she shuffled past stationary bodies, she failed to notice how tangible their tension was in the atmosphere; like smog, it was suffocating to the average passer-by, but Castor was too absorbed in her thoughts to notice the imminent discord.

Then she heard it; the angry cries of oppressed men, and the hiss of smokescreen.

I'm always an early bird.

When the light touches, I have to be awake. Before my mom died she always used to say that bad things never happened in the daylight - not back in the districts, where we were safe when it wasn't Reaping Day.

She was wrong, of course, but that doesn't stop be from wanting the sunlight.

We have a tree house, Jano and I. It was run-down and creaky when we first discovered it, but since then I have made repairs and promoted it to a decent state of living. It's hospitable, protected - not really insulated so we bundle in blankets during winter and sleep almost nude during the summer - and it's hidden, which is exactly what we need.

I sit on the edge of my mattress and slip on my boots. Jano is still asleep in the other bed; we can't carry an entire frame up here, so we settled with mattresses on the floor instead. The only other furniture we have is two nightstands with drawers, two chairs, a mirror, and a desk where we keep our Panem radio. Clothes have to be folded and stuffed in the corner. It looks pathetic, but we're used to it.

And it's better than the alternative.

I change into simple clothes and shrug on a hoodie for the top layer. Even if I don the hood it's practically impossible to hide my mat of my hazelnut curls, but if push comes to shove I comb as much as I actually can (my scalp suffers for it) and pull it back into a sloppy ponytail. Nobody can recognize me wherever I go. Nobody will, unless it's a Peacekeeper.

A girl has her tastes, and I'm not above stealing frivolous things; I own two pairs of earrings and one tube of lipstick. I accessorize with both, wishing there could be some way to flatter my caramel eyes, but quickly decide that it's probably better to remain plain. I need to be a face that everybody forgets. For Jano, blending in is much easier. He has flat blonde hair, paler skin and bland facial expressions. Nobody ever guesses that we'e twins because of how different we are. Our skin color, our hair color, our hair texture, all of it; but it's possible, I assure you. Our existence is proof.

When I finish my morning routine, desperate for a bite to eat as my stomach makes disgruntled growls, I slip out the door and climb down the ladder.

The Square erupted in smoke.

Smokescreens rolled across the cement and clouded her vision. When she gasped it in, it turned out to be harmless - but why? Was this an attack? As the screams commenced around her, Ellise stirred against her chest and started to wail. Whatever this was, she needed an escape route now.

"Down with the oppressors! Down with Peacekeepers! There is no peace with you guys around!"

She could hear their chanting. It was a riot; somebody had planned a riot, and she was stranded in the middle of it with Jano and their defenseless sister.

Bodies were gathering around her, but she wanted no part of it. She shoved through obstacles with her shoulders - careful to keep Elise from violently ramming into something - and squinted in the midst of the fray. In the distance, she spotted the blinding white frames of Peacekeeper uniforms, who were surely here to break apart the cluster of rebels.

Moments later, the echo of gunshot made her flinch.

Ellise was screaming against her chest, and when she turned around Jano was nowhere to be seen.

"Jano?!" her cries were pitiful whispers compared to the bellows of gunfire and the screams of terrified innocents. Bodies - no, people were collapsing left and right, blood spattering against the boring concrete ground they had all grown accustomed to. She saw one bullet ricochet from the ground, and instantly whirled around and shielded Ellise behind her arms. Were they firing blindly into the crowd?

"Jano!" Her first priority was to protect Ellise, but she needed to find her brother. What if he was lost in the chaos? What if they had already shot him?

She tripped over a limp arm and caught herself on her knees, skin scraping violently against hard concrete. The pain burning through her skin made her grunt, but she pushed off of the ground and stood back up.

"Castor!" She heard his voice and made the mistake of turning around.

A warm spray of blood decorated her face. She had felt a sudden burst of pressure against her chest, and then it grew abnormally heavy.

Ellise's cries ceased, and Castor screamed.

Nothing really fazes me anymore, so when I clumsily miss the last rung and fall onto my tailbone, I don't make a peep.

The Square is quiet today. No special events, no birds chirping, no runners, no gossipers, no children.

It fools you.

I step over the stone where I stabbed that Peacekeeper to death, just like I do everyday. I never think twice about it. Back then I had always kept a knife in my back pocket for protection, because no matter what mom said about the light I had to protect Ellise.

I had failed, and the most I could do was brandish that stupid blade and plunge it into that fucker's uniform.

Over and over again I jabbed, screeching at the top of my lungs with Ellise still strapped to my chest. I was sobbing, and Jano found me by the time the murderer had died.

Apparently, I didn't stop until after he was a corpse. Jano had to tear us off of him, and then we bolted. Both of us ended up getting charged for that murder. To them, we were just rioters. Bloodthirsty rebels. Now we can't show our faces anymore, and I always wonder what would've happened if I had just kept sprinting away instead of turning around,, or if I had just accepted Ellise's fate right then and there instead sticking around to execute a vengeful rampage.

It feels like I dragged Jano down with me.

Now we have to steal for survival. Peacekeepers busted down our door searching for us, but we had been busy burying our little sister. We weren't stupid enough to go back. Life as we knew it was over, and we had to pick up a lot of broken pieces to get our shit together again. I was in despair for a long time.

Now I like to call myself numb, but I don't know if I'm fooling anyone.