The Games We Play

Chapter 3: The Masons

Johanna's POV:

I wake up to the smell of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and sausage. I walk downstairs to the kitchen to find my lovely, brainless daughter.

Yes, I have a daughter and no, I don't have a husband.

The story is simple. I went to a bar to get a drink and the bartender decided to put a victors blood into my drink. Guess who's blood it was?

The one and only Chaff. Chaff from district 11. Chaff who is dead. Yeah.

So about a month later, I started to have morning sickness. I went to the doctors and did different tests on me. They said that I had failed every test except for the pregnancy test.

They asked me who the father was and I honestly didn't have any answer for them. They said after the child was born, they would take DNA tests. So I went in to have the regular checkups every once in a while.

For the first time to have a checkup, I was really excited. I was going to find out the gender of the baby. I was really leaning towards a boy, but the doctor said it was a girl.

I was really happy because that meant I could pass down the the Mason girl tradition.

Yes, my family had a tradition because 3 out of 5 children in our family were girls. All of my family members are dead now. One of my sisters were shot by President Snow.

The other was tossed into the Hunger Games a year after me. She didn't survive.

My youngest brother was drowned in his sleep and my other young brother was hung because he had 'stole' bread from the local bakery. Which he hadn't stolen at all.

All because of one man; Snow.

Anyways, I was excited I could carry the tradition. When she was born, she had light brown skin, bright brown eyes, and was really tall.

I had an idea of who the father was. Of course, Chaff. And then I found out that I was right. That was her father.

I remember when I first held her, so strong and muscular for an infant.

So I named her Jamaica Keeta. She grew up and became one of the most fearless, bold, and caring people I had ever known. She was special.

Now, she is a beautiful 13 year old. She had her birthday May 12th. Four days after my friend, Katniss' birthday.

In a couple of days, I have to go to 13 for a useless meeting to find out if there is going to be a 100th Hunger Games. Or 4th quarter quell.

I have a feeling that there is going to be a final games.

But I have a different feeling.

A feeling of hopelessness.

Tears.

Losses.

But why do I feel this way?