presentation of power

I sat in the darkness on the living room couch, my chin resting on my knees as I hugged my legs tightly. The house was eerily quiet, as if his ghost were already haunting me prematurely. Where laughter used to float down the hall, there was nothing but the relentless hiss of the wind battering the side of the house. I was alone. I had always been alone these days. Before the day he was taken, I had never been alone, not even for one day. We were joined at the hip by an invisible tether that was always pulled tight. Having it severed so suddenly was agonizing.

Suddenly, the TV burst to life, the Capitol filling the silence so abruptly that I jumped in shock. "What the hell?" I groaned, shielding my eyes from the blinding light.

"In order to remind the Districts that our fragile peace can be broken at any moment, without warning, the 95th Hunger Games will begin... now."

What? What did that mean? Jimmy, the tributes, still had two days. He's—I'm—not ready! Uncoiling myself from the couch, I stood in front of the TV. Anxiously, I ran a hand through my tangled hair, my eyes glued to the screen. After another moment, images of the tributes climbing out of bed, disgruntled and confused, came into focus, and my eyes frantically searched the screen for one face, for his face.

It didn't take me long to find him, to find "Jimmy!" I gasped, one hand clutching my chest, the other clamped tightly over my mouth. It had been two weeks since I had seen him, but to me, it felt like two months. I watched as Nessa and Jimmy ran from the room, following the instructions of the Head Gamemaker, and suddenly I was shoving my hands through my nightgown and pushing my feet into my slippers. I needed to go see Michael. I didn't want to—I couldn't—do this alone, and right now, Michael was the only other person who even came close to loving Jimmy like I do.

Running through the darkened streets of Six, I found his door, my chest rising and falling frantically as I fought to find my breath. In the next breath, I was pounding on his door, keenly aware that I was likely going to wake up his whole family, but I couldn't care less about that. They didn't matter, not right now. My fist slapped against the wood once again, and I heard a voice calling out from within.

"We're awake," the voice called in response to my persistent knocking, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head because obviously they were awake. If it wasn't from the TV blaring, it would have been from the sheer amount of noise I'd been creating. "I know, I can hear you. Now open the damn door!" I yelled, slapping the door with an open palm.

After another moment, the door opened, and Michael greeted me looking stupidly confused. I pushed past him, entering his home where I came face to face with his family. Well, this is awkward. Giving them a short, tight-lipped smile, I turned my back on them, my eyes meeting Michael's. "Help me with my homework," I demanded, smiling at him sweetly as I took his hand and dragged him into what I presumed to be his bedroom. My smile dropped, and I wrung my hands anxiously around my wrists. "I didn't know where else to go. I didn't want to watch it alone." Climbing onto his bed, I grabbed the remote and flicked on his TV, making myself at home.

It was odd because even though it wasn't my family, and Michael wasn't my best friend, it was the first time in weeks where I didn't feel alone.