[tenth] - District 4 reaping

Drea had found me with my head resting against a wooden bench inside my little rowboat. A thin grey blanket keeping me warm against the slight breeze. Reaping day had called all of us stow aways back to the shore, unable to sleep between the nervous tears and restless spirit. Some faces I had last seen at the reaping the previous year, still they were my family for the day. Drea would be the one to hold my hand and speak brave words to all of us before we checked in. She would take on the role of caring mother, annoying older sister who thought she knew better, the cousin who comforted you when everything felt impossible.

None of us had ever thanked her for everything she had done for us. An unspoken secret (kept by everyone): Drea had named each and every one of us. Each one of us more ungrateful than the next. For when someone needed a poor soul to blame, it was always Drea.

(I’m sorry I caused you grief. Can you forgive me?)

“C’mon Hafen…You need to get up, it’s time to do your hair.”

Two French braids with white ribbons to ties the ends. A naïve hope that the ribbons replaced a white flag, convincing the fates that I meant no harm. Two gold hooped earnings I had swiped from the jewelers to bring me luck.

Each of us had rituals of their own. Superstition replacing crossed fingers, everyone knew that as long as we stuck to our traditions then nothing will happen. None of our names would be called, no one would bother to give the large group of malnourished kids a second glance. Just another year we could return back to the sea, and I would return back to my boat.

I counted seventeen of us. Seventeen coins we tossed into the sea. All seventeen of our souls would be spared.

No one dared to talk on the march into town. I squeezed Drea’s hand tightly as I held my breath, recanting my every step to make sure I had completed each of my rituals. The other kids grouped off, even in their silence they had each other. All I had was Drea, the only one who never saw me as a threat. Everyone always keeping their distance and with time I had segregated myself more than anyone had shunned me.

Not like I trusted anyone in that cabin. We were all we had but we all wanted to survive. At the end of the day if I had to choose between eating or feeding another mouth…I always chose myself.

How selfish, can’t you see them starving?

There was no ignoring a hunger pained look on a child younger than me. The same child would go on to steal from someone even younger. Their friendships and bonds meant nothing in the rotten cabin with our rotten souls.

Damned for the dead, the whole lot of us.

“Hafen Dieu-Le-Veut”

Damned for the gallows.

Drea tightened her grip around my hand, unwilling to let me go. I couldn’t move. Frozen as I watched my own life get torn from my hands. The peacekeepers coming nearer as the hungry kids backed away from my cursed name. Even if I had not identified myself, it had become clear who’s name had been called.

“Let go” I whispered, and Drea closed her eyes as she let my hand fall.

My feet did not hesitate. I ran as fast as I could in the opposite direction of the stage, through the crowd of kids. Every part of my being refusing to accept this fate, refusing to believe they could control me. Not once had anyone cared about a girl like me, never giving me a second doubt. I could hear the peacekeepers getting closer.

I would not go down without a fight.

Arms wrapped around my waist as the weight of a grown man tackled me down to the ground. My legs still kicking with dirt smudging my face. Strands of hair falling out of my braids in the struggle as they carried me onto the stage. Drea’s eyes meeting my own, she wore a warning on her face; Stop fighting, save it for the arena.

I had never once seen her cry, but I was almost certain there was a tear forming in her eyes.

Hafen Dieu-Le-Veut. The girl no one wanted. The girl who followed no law. Godless Hafen.

Hafen. District four’s female tribute in the 10th annual hunger games (unwillingly).

Are you scared yet? (I am)