The Hunger Games: The Violent Hour

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Chapter Ten

                The screen goes black as the mixture of tapes comes to an end. I sit there, eyes wide, mouth open; my mind is completely baffled by the world my parents used to live in.

                “Iris, are you all right?” I hear my mother say behind me. Her hand turns my swivel chair completely around, and suddenly I am looking into the bright gray eyes of the girl on fire.

                “Yes,” I manage to choke out. A stupendous amount of respect has grown for both of my parents and Haymitch over the course of the last few hours. “Yes, Mom, I’m fine.”

                She purses her lips and glances at Haymitch. “Are you sure?” she asks me.

                I nod once and turn my chair to the table, where Rye has a shocked expression. “I’m sure,” I mumble, turning my head to my mother. Footsteps echo, and then my mother is in front of me, in between Rye and my father. There was the sound of the chair being pulled out next to me, and I smell Haymitch’s liquor in his breath.

                “Do you have any questions, sweetheart?” he asks,  and the smell of his breath was all the more potent. It made me dizzy just by smelling it.

                “Nothing.” I gulped. They all narrow their eyes at me, and I turn red at my mistake. “I mean – no,” I stammer, keeping my gaze steadily on Rye.

                My father nods slowly, as if testing my sanity, then he turns to Rye. “Do you want to ask anything?”

                “Yes,” Rye says, drumming his fingers on the table. A moment passes, and the air is completely still as we wait for him to continue. “Why?”

                My mother blinks once. “Rye, there is all sorts of why’s to what you just watched.” She bites her lip and looks at her lap. “Why don’t you elaborate?”

                “All I want to know is, why. That’s it.” Rye snaps, and I flinch. This is so unlike him. I’ve never heard him raise his voice above a whisper, much less yell at my mother and father.

                “Rye, what your mother is trying to ask is what you want to know,” my father says.

                Rye takes a slow breath, and I can see his face go from a bright shade of red, and slowly back to soft pink. “I just want to know why all of those horrendous things happened in the first place.”

                A moment passes as we consider this. “Why the Hunger Games started?” Haymitch guesses.

                “No,” Rye says, and looks up at all of us. “Why the rebellion started.”

                “We were miserable-“ my father starts.

                “No! You weren’t! You think any of those people wanted to give up their lives for your comfort? No. They wouldn’t have. I’m pretty sure anyone would have dropped their weapons at once if they realized what they were doing. They were declaring war. War means death. War means violence. War means the complete obliteration of everything you know, for something that is supposedly ‘better.’ None of what I just saw was ‘better.’” He turns to my mother with an angry face. “Would you have stopped everything if you knew Prim was going to die? I would have. I would have rather given up my life than have to watch Iris suffer like that. I just watched you suffer like that, and I could barely contain myself. All those kids – all those people!-dead. Gone. No longer breathing, or living. Those kids will never smile again. Never see their parents again. And all for what?” He’s panting now, holding on to the arms of his chair with white knuckles.

                My family and I are completely astounded. I don’t feel myself breathing, and I don’t hear my mother or father breathing as well. None of us has moved. It’s all I can do to stare at Rye with wide eyes; the gray eyes that stare right back at me with a fire I have never experienced in anyone.

                Finally, Haymitch sighs, and repositions himself on his chair. “Well, that boy’s definitely got your fire, Katniss.”

                I’m finally able to move my head, so I let my gaze wander to my mother. She’s still sitting there, her eyes wide, tears pouring out of them. Her face is a ghastly pale. My father is the same, but he’s not crying, no. He’s shaking and holding on to the back of his chair.

                “Everything that happened,” Rye continues with a softer voice. “Was avoidable. I’m sure you would have rather eaten those berries at that beach, than to have to experience that came after that. Right?” My mother and father don’t react. My mother turns paler, and my father’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head. “Right?!” Rye repeats, and gives them one more second before he stomps out of the room and slams the door behind him.

So, I’m at school right  now :D

Well, um… I had major writer’s block for this story D: I’m sorry about the shortness. But I’m back on track now. I just wanted to get this posted today :D

Bye guys, and  PUH-LEASE VOTE! :D

Daniela <3