Deadly Game - Extra

DG Extra 6 - Faith's, D9, POV, before the reaping

Deadly Game Extra 6

Faith's POV - Before the reaping

"Faith?" Hope's whisper is low.

She's five, and the only one of the children I really like, except for Love and Auburn. Hope was left on the doorsteps as a newborn, the same day my mother died. The man and woman keeping the orphanage let me name her - probably trying to distract me from my own sorrow. They are great people, they really are. But taking care of twenty-five children is hard work. Carrie, the woman, cooks and cleans, while her husband teaches us older kids who do not have the money to attend school, while trying to get some extra cash by taking odd jobs.

 I'm almost the oldest here. Everyone leaves as soon as they can - the girls trying to catch rich husbands, the boys trying to get a good job. Not many succeed, though. They end up like the majority in District 9.

Poor, starving, with too many children and a crappy job.

"Yes, Hope?" I whisper back, trying not to wake anyone else.

 "Carrie needs help."

 "Okay," I sigh softly, crawling out of bed and dressing quietly. Hope stands beside my bed, shivering in her old, thin, second-hand nightgown.

 I gently usher her into my bed. It's slightly bigger than hers, and I've got more blankets. How many blankets you have is how the hierarchy here in the orphanage works. When you steal or earn enough money you can buy extra food, clothes or blankets for yourself.

"Go sleep, Hope. I'll be fine, I'll go help Carrie." She smiles weakly, and closes her eyes, I hope the blankets are still warm from my body-warmth - Hope needs some relaxation.

 I sleep with the older children. We have our own room, right next door to the younger children's room, and we take shifts during the night, keeping an eye on them to give Carrie some rest.

Hope sleeps with the group of children we call the medi's - the mediums. I'm an old one, and the smallest children are simply called the young ones.

 Hope is like a little sister to me. I've been here for all of her life - she's never had any other family than me and the other children - since I was left here at the age of seven and Hope is five.

I'm twelve now, old enough for tesserae, which helps us slightly even if it's a huge risk.

 I tip-toe down the narrow stairs into the room we call kitchen, trying not to step on the most squeaking steps. The kitchen is basically a middle-sized room with one long table where we eat, and a small corner with an ancient stove where Carrie makes most of our food.

 I make my way around the rough wooden table to Carrie, and she turns away from whatever she's doing - probably cooking breakfast - to face me. Her face is beautiful, but constant lack of sleep and hard work has left it's traces. She's starving along with us during the worst periods - we get a small amount of food and money from the government every month, but it's nowhere near enough, so we have to make do in whatever way we can. Carrie could eat well and give less food to us children, but it goes against her morals.

She looks at me apologetically.

"I'm so sorry for the early wake-up call, Faith."

 "Nah, It's okay. Just tell me what I can do?" I say softly. I know how hard she works, so me and the other older children try to help her as much as we can.

She sighs. "Rennie has caught the flu, and we're separating him from the others."

 "Oh God." The words slip out of my mouth before I know it. Any kind of sickness is dangerous in the orphanage. Everything spreads quickly, and for starving young children a flu can mean death. Their immune system is so weak.