Part One
- The Reaping
A game, life is just one big game. And the rolling dice is always pushing me to the very edge, making me feel as if I was always walking one step forward, then three steps back.
A gentle breeze has picked up, adding some life to the trees above me, a sway to them. The willow tree beneath me started to rock back and forth in a rhythm. One that I could fall asleep to many, many times.
I've always found trees to be interesting, how they can withstand dry seasons at their worst and still act as if they're not withering up from the inside.
Sometimes I wonder why I can't do the same.
Locks of my hair start twirling and flailing in the wind. Rays of orange and pink light start streaming across the sky, slowly creeping down the trunks of the trees as the sun sets.
Hours can so easily go by when I'm up here. Hours that always feel like seconds. I push my feet against the branch and shove myself up a little further to watch the last of the sun setting.
Tracing the outer edge of the heavily guarded concrete wall that surrounds District Eleven, the orange light finally fades, causing the warmth that was there to dissipate. Now the air is cold, there is no light, and a depressing eerie feeling is left behind.
Shivers begin creeping up on me, goosebumps following close behind. It's not as nice now.
And curfew will begin in an hour or two, and I certainly don't want to tempt fate, not today.
I grab branches and slowly crawl my way down, taking my time in choosing which limbs will mean a quick and painless fall down if they break. The last branch was reasonably close to the ground and with a quick leap, I was back on solid earth again.
It takes me a second to adjust to the dimming light and walk on my two feet again, but I soon find a pace and start slowly walking towards the town circle. Ajax should be waiting for me there.
Making my way down the hill was peaceful enough until a voice called out from behind me."Willow, wait up!"
I spin on my heels to meet them, finding a tall familiar stance.
"Hi," I greet him.
"What are you doing up here so late?" He smiles, my eyes meeting his. Those eyes; I never understood how the colour in his eyes never seemed to be diluted by the bland surroundings we lived in.
His name is Braytz, my best friend, and about the only person I trust inside these oppressive walls. He can occasionally cause more trouble than he does help, but he proves to be a keeper otherwise.
"Just processing stuff, that's all" I reply tearing my gaze away from him. If I look any longer, I'm not gonna sleep tonight. His stupid face will be imprinted in my mind like ink, stopping me from finding sleep.
"I don't believe you." Raising an eyebrow, he's digging when there's nothing to uncover. I feel his eyes scanning me for any hint I may give to whatever he thinks is wrong. I should know by now, that hiding things from him never works.
I want to tell him I'm scared. Scared that I'll be taken away one day. Scared that I might not come home again. I start thinking like this, especially around this time of the year.
"It's nothing. I was just thinking. If anything I'm just tired." My mouth gave me away. I can't lie to him no matter what I say. But I refuse to talk about this any further.
"Fine, be that way. When you're ready to tell me you will. I'm gonna walk you back home either way." he insists, wrapping his arm across my shoulders.
I ease into his side and take in his warmth and assurance. He can probably tell I feel upside down.
"So what do you feel like talking about?" He questions.
"Well, I have tree picking tomorrow, so would you wanna work together?" I reply, casually slipping my arm around his waist to try and get closer to the heat he was giving.
"Depends, will you cheer up by then?" He teases, squeezing my shoulders a little.
"Yes," I remark with a roll of my eyes.
With the sun gone and a breeze sweeping throughout the valley, my core was beginning to feel very cold.
The trees start to become black silhouettes behind the starry sky and the glow of the moon lights the way as we head towards my house.
It used to be my home. But a while ago it just became a place where I took residence. No longer a haven where memories are made, and families take joy in each other's company. Now just a place where I take shelter from the rain.
My only refuge seems to be the willow tree on the hill and Braytz. Even then, they both sometimes fail to calm me. We reach my house and for the first time in the entire walk let go of each other.
"Look, you know I'm here if you need to talk, okay?" He speaks up, pulling me into a hug I didn't know I needed.
I fit perfectly in his arms, I like the way he just folds around me. Like a cocoon and I'm a caterpillar. Who knows, maybe I'll come out a butterfly.
"I know," I say just above a whisper. Nuzzling my head in a little further was a bit of relief. Hiding in his arms for a short time would allow me to soak in the feeling of protection. Something that I've rarely felt.
When he breaks the embrace a little part of me wishes I could stay there. But I know I can't and I'm being selfish. He's not mine to just control like that.
"I'll be late to pick something up on the way home if I stay any longer," he says before walking away behind me. "Bye," I call out.
Our little shack is housed in the very corner of District 11, with the tiniest paddock for Ajax's sheep. Swinging the door on its old hinges I walk through the doorway and slam it behind me.
I don't like this place anymore.
My stomach begins to growl and pull at me begging for something. Anything. I haven't eaten anything all day.
I looked through the boxes and a few cupboards we found something to eat. Most days there is nothing. Some lucky days there's half a loaf of bread or some old vegetable.
Old pieces of broken furniture, clothes that no longer fit and a billy are all that I can find. Piles of junk are stored in boxes for future use. Hoarder.
"What are you looking for?" A gruff voice questions. Standing in the doorway is my father. The one and only.
"Food," I reply simply.
Dad is never home, and when he is, he's either stone drunk or hungover. Rarely an in-between. A stellar example for me to follow. Sometimes I wonder how I'm not already doing drugs or smoking.
"Have you cooked anything?" He asks,
"With what, Dad? All the food you've provided?" I spit. A little bit angrier than I wanted to appear.
"Don't question me, young lady." he raises his voice sharply.
I want to yell. And scream. But what use will that do? He'll get angry, I'll get angrier. We throw things and break stuff. All for what? To let off some steam that we've had building up inside us.
It will just continue the cycle of hatred that is slowly tearing this family apart. And I won't be the one to pull the final threads that are left hanging.
"I'm going out," I snap, storming out of the house and throwing my feet against the ground. I don't know where I'm going. It's really late. Curfew is about to start, and that is one time you most certainly wish you were safely tucked away.
Ajax wasn't at home like he was supposed to be. Which means he is working a late shift. I'll go give him a hand and that way he can finish up earlier. It'll make it easier for me to put up with Dad if Ajax is here.
I've quickly learned I'm more fond of boys. After all, I have mostly grown up with them. Having an older brother is different. It often involved getting thrown around or tackled. But when Dad or Ajax weren't around, I always had Braytz.
I wouldn't say he's like a brother to me because other feelings have gotten in the way of that. Altogether, Braytz, Ajax and I are just mutually good friends. But Braytz and I sometimes feel closer.
When all three of us would wrestle, we would play it like they would the games. The last one standing.
I'd try and jump up on Braytz's back and throw him on the ground, but I was never big enough. I still don't think I am. But after a couple of beatings, I figured out I could grab his feet while Ajax tackled him to the ground.
Braytz began to also figure out that if I'm so small as to not be able to wrestle him, then I should be small enough for him to pick up and throw off. Ajax would pick us both up under his arms and walk over to the manure pile near the cattle yards.
He'd threatened to drop us multiple times, and quite often we had to bathe in the lake afterwards.
Sometimes he would drop one of us walking over to the manure pile. It was a game we played after field collecting sometimes.
Ajax rarely plays with us anymore. Maturity has made him no fun. But Braytz will still act like a two-year-old with me.
Dust fogs around my ankles as I scuff my feet out of pure laziness. Carrying myself with manner is not even appealing any more. My hands are running up and down my arms to create some heat. The summer nights are cold. Ironically, sometimes winter nights are hot.
A warm yellow light shines out of the barn. Grunts and chops echo down towards me as wood pieces fly from the side.
Ajax works small jobs for the farrier. Keeping the fire stoked, sharpening tools, and whatnot. Keeps him busy during the day. Sometimes well into the night, even when he's not supposed to.
"You should stop soon," I call out to him as he swings the axe down and slices the block evenly in two. Sending them flying on each side of him.
When the light hits him I see my shirtless brother, sweat barreling down his forehead and back. Big breaths of oxygen create puffs of smoke in the cold night air.
"What time is it?" He asks, leaning the axe up against the wall.
"Almost 8:30" I reply, hoping he's finished and can come back with me. I'd never admit it but I miss him. The way he used to just smile, and walk me to school. How he cried for me when Mum couldn't.
"I'm going to Laura's tonight." He apologises. I can see it in the way he's looking at me. He knows I want him to stay.
Laura is Ajax's girlfriend, or at least that's what I've been thinking. He occasionally goes out just before curfew starts and sees her. Or does whatever. I can't say I want to know.
"Willow, after curfew is when Aquilius is busy. It's the only time I get to see her now," he tries to convince me.
Laura is the Head Peacekeeper's (Aquilius's) Daughter, so when he is out on patrol, Ajax is climbing through her bedroom window.
"I know, I just- You're choosing her over me," I admit, looking down at my feet stubbornly. He had begun to pile up all the wood he'd chopped into a pile along the wall.
I let go of myself and the heat I had attempted to produce and picked up various pieces sitting them on top of his.
"You know that's not what I'm doing. I have Laura and you have Braytz." He was right. I was being unfair. But I wanted to be unfair.
"It's different, you're dating," I whine
"You'll be dating him soon enough." He sighs. I almost catch him rolling his eyes in the dim light.
"That's never going to happen," I grumble, almost trying to convince myself.
"Oh, come on, Wills. You love him. It's not hard to tell," He counters.
"I better get going. It's really late," I shake my head, changing the subject. I pull my long-sleeved shirt further to try and cover my raw skin as I head back to the house. The distant rumble of truck engines breaks the peaceful night air, and I quicken my pace.
The engines fade and reappear behind me. The haunting glow of headlights lick the leaves of the trees above, and I feel a sudden jolt of adrenaline.
Then the piercing bang of a rifle zaps through the air, and I bite down on my tongue to contain a shriek of surprise.
I knew I waited too long. Curfew has just passed.
I spin around in a sudden panic to see Ajax gone. No longer by the wood pile, or inside the barn. He left. He knew they were coming, yet didn't think to warn me.
A heated resentment towards my brother boils within, warming me from the inside. A second gunshot rings out behind me, and all I can think to do is run.
Just run.