The Hunger Games: The Violent Hour

:The Hunger Games: The Violent Hour: (10) Violet Becoming

Chapter Ten

Please vote and comment guys :D Y’all know the drill. I know it’s been a while, I’m sorry. But please enjoy! :D

“What did you do to yourself?”

“Iris?”

“Nice color.”

Haymitch’s compliment catches my attention and I face him, grinning. “Thank you, I think it suits me well.”

“Oh, because of an Iris? They’re violet, you know,” Rye says.

“Oh, I know,” I say, strolling over to my seat and pulling it away from the table and sitting on it. I look across from me into the shocked faces of my parents, and I frown. “Mom, dad, what do you guys think?”

“You look like a freak,” my mother says, and she appears lucid.

“Wha- Mom, it’s not permanent.”

“The parade is tomorrow,” my father says and I can’t help but hear the disgust in his voice.

“I know,” I say.

“Then why did you do that?” my mother asks, and she appears to be trembling. “Why did you change?”

“The stylists were going to do this to me anyway!”

“That is because it was their choice. Not yours,” my father says with an edge of pain.

It is silent now and I can’t help but feel as if I am the cause of such an event. Rye and I meet eyes and he widens his, as if asking me what is wrong. I shrug indifferently and turn back towards my parents.

Then I remember my mother isn’t supposed to be here.

“Mom, are you better?”

“Define better.”

“Is your head better? You know, after you fell against the wall,” I say. I try to avoid meeting their intense gazes. Instead I look at the fabric that is on the table. It seems to be made of some sort of complex, crystalline material.

“Don’t lie, she didn’t fall. I pushed her,” my father says with a hard look.

“Well I was trying to not spark some more tension,” I mumble, biting my lip.

“Too late,” Rye says and I shoot him a glare.

“My wound has closed up some,” my mother says, answering my question.

“Are you going to be ok?” I ask.

My mother nods, and I still see that distant look in her eyes. “I’ve had worse.”

I sigh and begin to pick at the purple patterns on my skin. I use my thumb as an eraser and try to scrub the small flowers off. No success.

I realize my parents are waiting for me to answer and I clear my throat. “I see.”

“Speaking of past injuries,” Haymitch begins, and then he looks at Rye and me. “Kids, we have some videos to show you.”

“Videos of what?” Rye asks.

“The Hunger Games,” Haymitch replies.

“Which ones?” I hear myself asking.

“Just the two that your mother and I were in,” my father answers.

“What about the war? Can we see videos of that?” I ask, leaning forward towards him in anticipation.

Both of my parents look to Haymitch, and I find myself looking at him as well. My parents and him give each other long looks. Finally, my mother nods, and then Haymitch dips his head once, as in understanding.

I realize my parents have a foot of space between them, and they are turned away from each other. “Why are you two so far apart?” I ask.

My mother startles and she looks up, as if just remembering I am there. “We were originally not allowed to be in the same room,” she began, looking at my skin. “This is the compromise.”

“How long?” I ask.

“Until my wound closes up and your father recovers,” she replies.

“So, never,” I say.

My parents look at each other, and after a few seconds my mother looks down and I see some moisture in her eyes. My father doesn’t look down. Instead, his gaze pierces into me, causing me to feel uncomfortable. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t ever remember you being… normal, dad,” I say hoping my last word will cause him to believe that what I say is sincere.

“There are reasons. And you will find them out soon enough,” he said, and then looked away from me.

Haymitch got up, and directed us all to the Screening Room. Just like on the train, it had a television as big as the wall. There are a lot of chairs though, all circled around a table. The table is facing the television, so the members sitting at the table can watch it with comfort. It looks like some sort of Conference Room. Maybe because it is a conference room. We all take our seats, my mother and father sitting the closest to the television, facing each other. I sit next to my mother, and Rye sits next to my father. Haymitch takes his seat at the head of the table.

“So what were are going to show you,” he says to Rye and me. “Is footage of the previous Games.”

“Are you ready?” my mother asks me.

I nodded. “As ready as I will ever be.

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GOSH. It’s been so long… :P

Sorry about the length, guys :(

BUT… it’s an update. I really need to pick up on this again.

THIS IS THE EXPLINATION ON WHY I DID NOT WRITE SO MUCH:

I have two stories that are in the Watty Awards. I was far away from finishing them when I got an e-mail from Wattpad telling me that my story was a potential finalist. I was super excited and decided to focus on only those two stories. So I’m SO SO SO sorry guys.

Now that I am really close to finishing my other books, I have started writing this again. I will re-read Mockingjay while I am in Florida, and come back with Hunger Games mindset.

OMG. DID YOU GUYS SEE THE TRAILER?!? I had a heart attack. In the middle of the library…

Anyways, I’m rambling.

Update soon! :D

EXCERPT FROM THE NEXT CHAPTER:

“So, why did the whole war start again?” I ask.

“We were oppressed,” my mother says, facing me. “It wasn’t like we were tortured or anything. But all the rules…”

“Then why was it started? If it wasn’t too bad, why did you risk so much?”

My father slammed his hands down on the table. “Iris, it wasn’t our choice!”

Lol, anyways… I gotta goo…

Hope ya’ll enjoy! :D

-Daniela <3