𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 ... 𝗽𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗮 𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗸

𝐨𝐧𝐞

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𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 : 𝘳𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨
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things were burning, people were dying, and she could do nothing to stop it.

useless was an understatement for how hattie was feeling.

"how could you do this to these innocent people?" she cried to her father, pacing back and forth as he sat in a chair behind his desk. he picked up a pair of scissors off the surface and shut it away, "it's what needs to be done to keep the peace, darling." "no, don't 'darling' me ! people are dying, things are burning, and people are being raised to know fear, not happiness." she argued loudly, starting to look for anything she could use to solidify her statement. "sometimes, it's what the people need." "no, it's what you need because you can't bare to have anyone having a single thought that isn't like yours." "well, you have different thoughts to me, and i bare you." hattie scoffed, "i'm your daughter. you wouldn't kill me. unlike your other one, who you seem to be just fine with letting die." he didn't respond. he stayed quiet.

"you are injecting fear into these peoples veins. that's not normal ! you threaten to kill people's families if they don't listen to you, don't think i don't hear you talking. you are a fucking psychopath, and i can promise you, i never will love you." hattie finally found a mug sitting on his desk, full of coffee. she picked it up with a mocking smile and read aloud, "awh, 'world's best father' !" she then threw it on the ground in front of her, splashing coffee all over the floor and on herself. she didn't care.

"you never were a good father. i should've never given that to you." she leaned in close to her father, making sure their faces were a couple inches apart from each other. "my biggest accomplishment of my whole life, would be if i got to kill you myself."

« « « » » »

the girl sat begrudgingly in her father's office as she watched a hologram of him standing in front of the capitol.

"ladies and gentlemen, this is the 75th year of the hunger games. and it was written in the charter of the games that every 25 years, there would be a quarter quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against the capitol. each quarter quell is distinguished by games of a special significance. and now on this, the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the 3rd quarter quell," the crowd cheered, but hattie's face just sunk in sorrow. the cycle would never end. not in this world.

"as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the capitol." she let a breath out, the gears starting to turn in her mind. as the president continued his speech, hattie quickly looked around for a notebook, an empty one, her head whipping left to right. "on this, the 3rd quarter quell games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district." hattie stopped in her tracks, pausing her search for a notebook, and looked at the hologram. "no." she sighed, staring at her monster of a father, before turning back and looking for a journal quicker this time around.

"victors shall present themselves on reaping day, regardless of age... state of health, or situation." hattie finally spotted a grey notebook in the corner of the room, and ran to it. she fumbled it in her hands, and realized there was decades worth of dust on it. inside, only a few pages were occupied. she flipped through the whole book, and ripped out the ones already stained in ink. she crumpled them and hurriedly set them on the desk, picking up the lighter that president snow used for his cigars. she lit the lighter and pressed the fire against the crumpled pages. she watched the paper go up in small flames and soon turn to ash, leaving nothing but hot char.