Helen Thieves - district 2 - fin | Hunger Games: The RPG

ryan Advertiser 2,906 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 19, 2024 6:33:09 GMT -5 over the moon, where all the wild things are	Helen Thieves - district 2 - fin Sept 26, 2017 22:43:35 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ryan on Sept 26, 2017 22:43:35 GMT -5 Helen Thieves Eighteen Totally Down to Earth Hilary Duff Career
	Last Edit: Jan 16, 2018 3:26:29 GMT -5 by ryan

ryan
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over the moon, where all the wild things are

Helen Thieves - district 2 - fin Sept 30, 2017 19:30:09 GMT -5

Quote

Post by ryan on Sept 30, 2017 19:30:09 GMT -5

I hated waking up early in the morning, to only be told that I needed to train more. I hated being told that I needed to get my head around the fact that I was expected to win the games if I was reaped. I hated training. My districts pride was always held over my head and I was not seen as a person. No. I was seen as a statistic. Either I would be reaped, and added to the fodder that had been added before me. Or I would win, and add honor to my district. I hated this notion. I hated this idea that I was never worthy of being just a person. No. In district two, you were either a career in training, or you were a no one. At least, that’s what I was taught.

I couldn’t say that I didn’t enjoy training though. There was something about following a rigorous schedule that kept me on my toes. While there would be long days, which could turn into longer nights, I rose to the occasion. While I hated my district’s obsession with titles, I was proud of what I could accomplish with a little structure in my life. Trials and tribulations were all I was expected to go through, and while I tried to not put so much effort into it, I failed. Miserably. I couldn’t stop myself from picking up anything I touched. I excelled in every place I didn’t want to excel.

It started with my mother. She died when I was young. Not because we were poor or anything, but because while she was leading one of the groups in the academy we trained at, one of the students swung their club too flagrantly, slapping my mother in the face. Hard. When she landed on the ground, there was a loud crack that reverberated from the spot where she laid. When they went to help her, she didn’t move. She wasn’t responsive. She couldn’t even say a word. My father told me that he never got a chance to tell her he loved her that day. Instead, he just held her in his arms, cradling her. Brushing her hair. In a room full of future murderers, everyone continued. Not one person, except for my father. Everyone just did as they were told and trained to do. Heartless. Ruthless. Lethal.

My father told me this story after my eleventh birthday. The real story. Before that, they said that she went to be a peacekeeper. They didn’t want to distract me from my training. I asked to see her grave, as proof that they were lying to me. My father took me to the burial site in two. While there weren’t a whole lot of graves in two, one did stand out was my mothers. If I had known sooner, I would have come quicker, because then I would have got to say my goodbyes. By then though, it was too late. My mother was a figment of my imagination. An afterthought. I didn’t know her anymore. I never would.

When I was younger, I didn’t let this affect my training. I used to be the type of person that did what she was told. When I was asked to jump, I did so, and when I was asked to fight, I did that too. Now I just let things come and go. I don’t get mad. I don’t get even. I just am. My district mates don’t share this mentality with me, but I don’t care. I pity them really. The games are something to scoff at this point. When I got the news about my mother, I knew I should have resigned my want to train, but that was all I knew at this point in two. I could have walked. I could have run. I could have stopped myself from continuing, but I didn’t. Mostly because my father wouldn’t let me stop, but also, I felt like I needed to do something to honor her memory. She wouldn’t want me to give up when I already put so much time into it. Thieves were not people who gave up. Well, my father and I that is.

However, I saw opportunities to help others grow as well. I was told I had a high chance of going far in the games. I was tenacious when I wanted to be. I could solve problems and I was quick on my toes. However, I didn’t want it. So instead, I thought of ways where I could help others in places where they might have been lacking. It wasn’t like I would point out their faults either. They would just come to me, asking me to help them with their technique. My father saw me a couple times helping some of the others in my class. At first, he scolded me, telling me that I should focus on myself, but then he realized that maybe I was like my mother after all.

I was fearless.

But I was also selfless.

I didn’t believe I was fearless. Until they decided to take us up to one of the higher buildings in two and asked us to do a special training exercise. I was fourteen at the time, and at first I was confused. Then I saw a narrow beam between two buildings stretching about a meter long and my heart began to race. The task: walk across the beam in under a minute. If you took longer there was no penalty, but if you walked in under a minute, you could go home early. And if you were the fastest, you were rewarded with a day off training something that was unheard of. I played with my long blonde hair a couple times waiting for someone to be brave enough to hop on the beam and walk. Of course, there were others that were braver than I. As they walked across, most of them failed to get there in under a minute. I admired them and memorized their steps and watched exactly where each one of them stopped.

It was my turn, and my heart wanted to beat out of my chest. I stepped on the platform, and when the instructor said go.

I went.

And when I hit a spot where I saw another student tremble.

I thought one thing.

My mother.

Telling me that she loved me.

And I flew.

34 seconds across the beam.

A personal best.

When I got off the beam, I was congratulated, but I was also crying.

I hadn’t thought about my mother in three years. Since the day my father told me what happened to her.

I would always remember her.

And so maybe.

Just maybe.

Maybe I would volunteer for the games, and

jump off the pedestal

so I wouldn’t have worry about it anymore.

Or maybe I would wait that extra second,

Jump off that pedestal

And win.

Last Edit: Oct 2, 2017 1:57:52 GMT -5 by ryan

ryan Advertiser 2,906 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 19, 2024 6:33:09 GMT -5 over the moon, where all the wild things are	Helen Thieves - district 2 - fin Sept 30, 2017 19:31:01 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ryan on Sept 30, 2017 19:31:01 GMT -5 Done! Im gonna go work on another but please let me know if you need me to reorganize this at all.

ryan Advertiser 2,906 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 19, 2024 6:33:09 GMT -5 over the moon, where all the wild things are	Helen Thieves - district 2 - fin Oct 2, 2017 23:11:42 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ryan on Oct 2, 2017 23:11:42 GMT -5 Bump.

ryan Advertiser 2,906 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 19, 2024 6:33:09 GMT -5 over the moon, where all the wild things are	Helen Thieves - district 2 - fin Oct 5, 2017 21:53:32 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ryan on Oct 5, 2017 21:53:32 GMT -5 Bump

Deleted 0 POSTS last seen Apr 19, 2024 20:21:50 GMT -5	Helen Thieves - district 2 - fin Oct 8, 2017 10:32:56 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Deleted on Oct 8, 2017 10:32:56 GMT -5 sorry for the wait! accepted my dude <3