One's Mistake

Capital's Pick

I'm afraid for the first time in my life. One week ago the president visited me. With him he brought many gifts and flowers. But he also brought a warning. If I was to continue my path and pursue my goal of overthrowing the government I would most certainly find myself in the arena, where I will have to kill or be killed. Both options were unfavourable and most likely to crush any chances of a rebellion. I had been given four days to respond to the president that I will be stopping any plans for war and change.

It's been seven days and I have not responded to him. If I give up, there will never be a change for something better. If there will ever be a chance to gain followers and support, it will be now, because maybe, just maybe, if I die in the arena, my cause will continue with someone else. I'm willing to take the chance.

If you have found this letter it means I'm dead, slain for entertainment for millions to see. If you have found this letter, I want to say thank you, because I'm thankful you're wiling to sacrifice just as much as I was.
This is not the end. There has to be others out there. Find them. Recruit them. Train them. I will never see the day, but you will, I have not been given the same destiny I hope that you will have, but it doesn't mean you won't end the same as me. Good luck, and as this terrifying country would say, may the odds forever be in your favor.

You're dearest friend,
Alexandria Kell

I seal the letter inside a plain, simple envelope. I write the name Solomon on top. I have not been able to see my friend for several days now and I just pray that he will not be picked as the male tribute.

I fold the envelope until it's a small rectangle. I place it inside a small bird figurine on my desk.

Today is the day. I will leave my home and never come back. I will be reaped and no one will be bold enough to voulenteer in my place. I might die in the arena. I might make it out of the arena and if I do, I will kill the president himself before he can crown me Victor. I will not be a pawn for anybody.
~~
I've decided to wear all black. I'm not even going to dress up. Just a simple black long sleeve shirt and black jeans. My silver hair falls naturally down my back. I lace my favorite boots and stand.
I make no attempt to be pleasent when I see my parents at the table eating their breakfasts with little to no care about anything. They haven't seen or talked to me in several months. Both of them shutter when they glance at me. I am not a one like they had planned me to be.

I don't fit with any district.
~~
I walk out the door without another thought. I will not let them win. I can not let them win.
~~
Solomon is waiting for me outside of the gates that keep us in and the rest of the world out. He appears to have the same idea as me when it comes to outfits; however, he has pitch black hair.

Solomon has been by my side for forever and I consider him my only family. We tell each other everything. I make a whistle sound to alert him that I was coming. Solomon repeats the tune but adds a twist at the end.

We walk the way to the town square together in comfortable silence. I know what is going to happen today, but I can't bring myself to warn Solomon. I want nothing to hurt him, but how can I protect him when I need to be protecting myself?

We were ten years old when we met. It was my birthday and my parents had forgotten or just didn't care. At this time in my life I only hated my parents and the capitol. My parents for not really being parents and the Capital because they stole my parents from me.

I had cried the whole day and once I finally stoped I had ran outside of my home and into the heart of District One to a fountain in the center of the square. It was busy and people bumped into each other from every angle. I had sat on the ledge of the fountain, stairing into my lap with my legs swirlling in the water, when there was a tap on my back. I turned and there he was. His light blue eyes sparkled in the setting sun. They were so light compared to his black hair. He smiled and handed me a flower and ran away.

The following day, I went to the same spot at the same time and was once again met by the mysterious boy. Eventually I worked up enough nerve to ask him his name and thus a friendship was born. It turned out he was a forgotten kid, too. Maybe we all were in District One.

My life had been divided into two sections: the time before Solomon and the time after Solomon. I was okay with that until the Capital swiftly killed everyone in a city in District Five after They tried starting a rebellion. They not only killed the people involved in the rebellion but they killed the innocent lives that were not involved. The whole city was burned to the ground. Their remains and belongings lay scattered throughout the ash. But there was an ember left from the fire, it was deep inside me.

Now there was three periods in my life: before Solomon, after Solomon and the Spark.
~
The city square is huge and thousands of kids wait their turn. The check-in line is long. The girls and boys are dressed in brand new gowns and suits. Solomon and I stand out in a way that makes me happy. The peacekeepers scowl at us when we reach the front of the line. They know who we are. The prick from the needle stings but is forgotton when I turn the corner to the square. There's twice as many peacekeepers lining every exit. I lock my hand in Solomon's. He tries to give me a reassuring squeeze but it scares me to know that he is affraid, that I am affraid. We part ways.
~
I turn from him and take a step and stop. I turn around to say goodbye when a gun shot rings out and Solomon falls to the ground. Peacekeepers rush towards me and pull me away from him. I fight them the best I can but I'm not strong enough. I wasn't even strong enough to save him, my best friend.
~
If I had known that that would be the last time I would get to see him, I would have stayed by his side, holding his hand and wishing we could go back in time to the foutain. But how could I have known? I should have seen the warning signs all the way here, but I was too focused with my memories that I missed them all. Did Solomon know? Did he see the signs?
~
I have not cried since he died. Fitzgerald North, our announcer and escort, is talking but I don't hear him. I watch how his purple hair dances in the wind. I replay Solomon's death in my head. Over
And
Over
And
Over
~
"This year's female tribute, from District One is..." He unfolds a paper but I'm already moving towards the stage. He looks at me with a mix of pity and sorrow. "Alexandria Kell!!" I'm already on stage next to him. My hair blows in the wind. Did Solomon know? Fitzgerald proceeds with the same procedure he had just done for the girl tribute, but this time for the boys.
~
The peacekeepers take us to two separate rooms where our family and friends can come say goodbye. Except I don't have a family or a friend. They lock me in the room by myself with only one metal chair. The tears come freely and they fall from my eyes blinding me with the sorrow and emptiness I feel without Solomon. I grab the chair and smash it over and over and over again on the walk screaming and yelling that it isn't fair. After I grow tired I slump on the ground in a mess of emotions and sadness.

I didn't even get to say goodbye.