And that was the thing about her, she kept on surviving. With bullet holes in her lungs and knife marks etched in her back. She never let anything get in her way, resilient. A fighter, not by choice. But a warrior at heart.
| the hunger games |
| pr...
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The air seems to have been sucked out of me, and I gasp for it. The people around me turn their heads to look at me, some of them clearing a pathway to the stage. I can feel the color drain from my face as I stare at the stage. I can only wonder what my mother is thinking, does she know that I won't be returning? Does she somehow hold onto a little bit of hope that I can survive?
The stares that people give me as I slowly make my way to the stage makes me feel worse. I do not want their pity. I already know that I will not survive this. I climb the stairs to the stage, and Mica congratulates me like I had just won a great prize. I stare out into the crowd refusing to let myself cry. I will only do that when I am away from the cameras. I let out a shaky breath and give a blank stare out to the crowd.
Mica smiles once again out to the people in district nine, and then she speaks, "Now for the boys." I can't help but try to find my mother out in the crowd knowing that she is most likely crying. But I can't find her. Mica walks over to the right side of the stage, where a glass bowl is just like it was when she called my name. She carefully reaches down and digs around for a moment and then pulls out a name.
As she heads back to the microphone, the audience once again becomes deathly quiet. The sound of the wind blowing amongst the trees is the only noise as Mica carefully unfolds the piece of paper. "Monty Chase." She calls out, and the sound of the parents of the children can be heard complaining quietly as they always do when a twelve-year-old is chosen. My eyes scan the crowd, and they land on a little boy who looks so terrified as he takes a step forward. I am silently hope that someone will volunteer. He was so young and didn't stand a chance. None of the twelve-year-olds ever did.
As he made his way up the stairs, I made up my mind. I was going to protect him. He didn't deserve this. He deserved to live. I turn my head to look at him and notice just how small he was. It makes me mad at President Snow for doing this to these children. They, we, are just kids, and me and Monty don't stand a chance. No one ever survives the games below the age of sixteen except for one person, which must have been luck.
"Well, there you have it. Our tributes from district nine." She speaks and then steps back and looks between the two of us, "Well, go on, you two shake hands." I take a step towards him and reach out my hand, and his little hand grabs mine. The Peacekeepers come after that escort us into the justice building, where we are put into a room to say goodbye to those who come to see us.
As I walk into the building, the Peacekeepers follow closely behind. I guess they don't want anything to happen to us, at least not yet. With my face away from the cameras, I feel myself starting to get scared. I don't think it has fully hit me yet that I am going into the Hunger Games. But I feel my heart start pounding inside my chest. Once inside the building, the two of us are separated and ushered into different rooms. We are allowed to get to say goodbye to those who come and visit us. In some ways, I hope that my mother doesn't come. It's not that I don't want to say goodbye, it's just that I don't know how. I don't want to see her face as she realizes that I won't be coming back home, that she will be alone.
