Hetalia Hunger Games

Chapter Seven

The lady didn't really know why the boy stopped coming home.

Truth be told, she didn't have a single clue who the boy actually was, exactly. But he had been with her for as long as she could remember. He had only ever been kind to her, despite his clear slight frustration. Every day she would ask him who he was, and every day he would hold her hands and give the same answer, a weak smile on his face. 

"It's me Matthew. Remember, Granny?" 

Every day the smile got a little weaker. Every day he got a little more reserved, his voice a little quieter. The lady hoped she wasn't the cause. She didn't mean to make him sad. 

"Good morning Granny. I baked you a cake," the boy said one special day. He peeked his head in the door, smiling bigger than usual. She felt like it was the most genuine smile she'd seen from him in a long while. He seemed proud of himself.

"Who are..." she trailed off as she looked at his brown shirt. He had a black apron over it, which was covered in various ingredients. She didn't even want to imagine what the kitchen looked like. But what really caught her attention was the scrap of paper taped to the apron. 

"Thank you Matthew," she said with a grin. He had made a nametag to help her out. How sweet. He sat on the edge of her bed and passed her the plate with a small slice of cake on it. "Why did you make me a cake?" 

"It's your birthday, silly. I figured it would be okay to use some of the ingredients we had lying around to make a treat for us. I went pretty basic, so it didn't use up much," he explained. 

The lady took a few bites before passing the paper plate back to him. "You're good. Good," she said. The boy knew she was prone to either not saying much, or saying a lot. Most of it didn't make sense. So far, although it was only about nine in the morning, this seemed like one of her better days. 

"I'm glad you liked it. Do you need anything else, Granny?" he asked, picking up her plate, which he knew she would never finish because she always only ate a few bites of her food. 

"Did you know I got those glasses of yours from the man in the restaurant? He was fighting with the other man there when I took 'em right off his face." she rambled. Even she didn't quite know what she was talking about.

"No Granny, we got these at the eye doctor's a few years ago." He said it in a "that's okay, you'll do better next time" tone, not a "you're idiotic" tone. She was glad he was so respectful to her all these years. Well, she assumed they had been living with each other for years, because that's what he said. Apparently he was sixteen. 

On the morning of the day she stopped seeing him, she found a note on her bedside table. Her ability to read had been fading lately, but he luckily wrote big and with words she could understand. 

"Dearest Granny, 

It's me, Matthew. I'm that boy you live with. Today is the Reaping. I send you a note like this every year, but I have a bad feeling this time. I don't think I'm going to be very lucky. Remember, the Reaping chooses who will be part of the Hunger Games, the annual competition where teenagers fight to the death. I already told the neighbors to watch over you for me if I'm Reaped. 

I'm going to be brave and leave the house without waking you. I will instead leave you this letter on a piece of scrap paper. I will go to the Reaping and if I'm not Reaped I will return home as if nothing happened. I will probably lie and say I was at the store. I've done that every year, ever since I was twelve. But if I'm Reaped...well, you probably won't see me again. And if by some miracle you do, I will be different. I will have killed, most likely. 

But I won't hurt you. I never will. You're my grandma. You've taken care of me my whole life, although lately it's been me taking care of you. I'm kind of glad that you've got memory problems, in a way. Sorry, that probably sounds awful, but I don't mean it in a bad way. At least you won't be able to be too sad over me, because you will hardly remember me. The television automatically tunes in to the Hunger Games. If I'm part of it, I'm sorry that you'll probably see me die. I'm so sorry. Try to smile while I'm not here. Don't let me bring you down. Don't worry too much because of me. Remember to take your medicine.

Thanks for everything. I'll miss you. 

Lots of love, 

your grandson Matthew Williams :)"

The lady felt a strange emotion. She couldn't understand the letter very well. She didn't know what Matthew meant by most of this. But she could tell this meant a lot to him. He obviously worked hard to decide what to say. He probably made multiple drafts too. She decided to keep the paper despite her confusion. 

When she was putting it back on the table, she felt something taped to the back. She turned it over, and there was his nametag from when he made her cake. She long forgot why he made the cake, but he had worn the nametag a few more times afterwards. She smiled and laughed a little. She was glad he gave it to her. 

She was determined to not forget her grandson, Matthew Williams, her only family left in this world. 

How unfortunate that that was the day he got Reaped.