District 1: Puppet Neysar [wip]

My name is Puppet. Well, I think its Puppet. Everyone always tells me it is Puppet, so I tend to believe them, but I've never been quite so sure about it. When I was seven years old, I forgot everything. There was a woman who said she was named Mommy, but I heard people calling her Helen all the time so I figured she was a liar anyways. Then there was another person, who said he was Daddy, but I don't call him that. He said I could call him Mister B. if I wanted and I thought that sounded a lot nicer. There were three boys and a girl there, too, but they didn't look like Helen and Mister B. I can't ever remember their names, but they are a lot older than me.

A year after I woke up Helen, Mister B, and the other girl were taken away by really strong people and the boys took me back to the house. That's the first time they made me do something I didn't want to do. I thought we were going to eat supper, like we always did when the sun began to set, but instead they put my plate on top of the bookcase. The oldest one told me I had to bring him a handful of silver if I wanted any food. Then they put me outside. I didn't really know what silver was. Maybe I once did - but I forgot. So I walked around all night, and when the strong people came I asked them for some silver, and they asked me why. One gave me a little round thing that was very shiny, and I went home with it. The oldest boy still didn't give me my supper.

It kept being like that. Eventually I noticed that no matter how much of whatever I brought home I gave them, they always refused to take down my plate. Sometimes they did, but it would be empty, and the boy closest to my age would say, "I'm sorry, but you took so long I got hungry and ate it." They didn't always ask me to take things - or steal, as I learned after a whipping when I was nine - sometimes they would ask me to bring things to people, or say something to someone. I got hurt a lot. Sometimes I would tell them I wouldn't do what they asked, and they would start beating me.

I don't have any friends. I ought to wonder if I had friends before I forgot everything, but I don't, because I don't really care about who I was before I was seven. I don't remember my birthday, and I don't remember the date of when I woke up, so I've been counting my age by Reapings. The boy with the bronze hair who claims to be called Michael tells me I'm odd. I think I like being odd, because that means I'm good at coming up with stuff, too. I like to come up with things. I don't lie, of course, because I always get caught lying and that always gets me beaten. I just lie to myself.

In my mind, I imagine so much I get lost. I can't find my way out of my own mind, and I lose track of things. My memory, though I never recalled my first seven years, stopped dropping certain