Seas of Regret

Chapter 1

- 6 year old Mags -

Mommy says they are coming for us. I’m not sure who “they” are or what they want, but I know they’re bad people. They already took away my father and my brother, and I am afraid.

- 10 years later -

“Mags!” My mother calls. “Mags, wake up!”

I groan but don’t stir.

“Margaret! Margaret Cohen!” She shouts as she storms up the stairs. “Get up! You have to get ready for the reaping!”

She yanks off my covers and I bury my head in my pillow. “Mom...” I say tiredly.

She hoists me up, plops a nice dress in my lap, and throws a pair of flats at my feet. “Get dressed and wash up. Your hair looks like a rat’s nest.” She scolds me before walking out of my room and slamming the door.

I yawn and wipe the sleep out of my eyes as the bright morning sunlight streams in through the window. It is the reaping for the 9th Annual Hunger Games. 9 years of killing. 9 years since my father and brother were taken away and killed. I quickly change into the pale blue dress my mother picked out for me and slip the tight white flats onto my feet. I comb my curly blonde hair and let it fall across my shoulders. I gaze into the mirror at my plain face and sigh. How could society come to this?

＊ ＊ ＊

I trudge down the street and knock on Dylan’s door. He opens it and grins sheepishly. “Getting all dressed up for me? Aw, you shouldn’t have!” 

I roll my eyes. Dylan is really a sweet boyfriend, but sometimes he needs to be more serious. “Come on.” I say and grab his arm. “We can’t be late to the reaping.”

“Don’t worry, we have some time left!” He says and drags me along to the beach. I protest, but he picks me up and swings me over his shoulder. He carries me through the streets of District 4 and I hold onto him tightly. We receive stares but I couldn’t care less. I laugh delightedly, the wind blowing through my long blonde hair. We arrive at the beach and he sets me down next to him. A grin the size of a watermelon is plastered onto both of our faces and his beautiful green eyes sparkle in the sunlight. I wrap my arms around his neck and he snakes his strong arms around my waist. We sit there for a while in silence, embracing each other, and I am as happy as I could ever be. And even though either of us could be reaped as a tribute in the Games in the course of an hour, it doesn’t matter. Right now, I am safe, and I lose myself in eyes that are the color of the sea.

＊ ＊ ＊

Eventually, we head to the city square, shaking sand out of our hair. Peacekeepers take blood samples from both of us, and they shepherd us into the roped-off areas for children 12-18. I spot my mother, a panicked expression on her face. I smile reassuringly at her. I have not taken any tesserae this year, as we primarily eat seafood and there is no need for the grain. The odds are in my favor today. 

I focus on the stage. The mayor, the escort from the Capitol, and a few peacekeepers are the only people standing up there. What about our mentor? You may ask. I can tell you that District 4 doesn’t have any victors... Living ones, at least. Even though the victor of the first Games was from our district, he disappeared shortly after returning home. People say that he committed suicide, but no one knows for sure.

The District 4 escort, Eustacia Portshore, struts over to the microphone and taps on it lightly. We all look up nervously.

“Hello everyone!” Eustacia says cheerfully. “To begin the reaping, your wonderful mayor has an important speech to deliver to you all!”

The mayor walks up next to Eustacia and starts reading the Treaty of Treason. He blabbers on and on about the history of Panem, starting with the brutal war that was set upon what used to be “North America.” The result of the war was Panem, a “glorious Capitol with blah blah blah Thirteen Districts blah blah blah demolished blah blah blah.” He continues with the Dark Days which had happened when I could barely even walk. The Dark Days, where my father and brother were executed in front of my very own eyes. I don’t remember much about those days of rebellion, only that my family was torn apart, our belongings taken away, and our loved ones murdered. To punish us for the uprising, each of the twelve remaining districts had to provide one girl and one boy to be tributes and participate in a fight to the death. 

“Thus came forth The Hunger Games.” The mayor finishes.

I steal a glance over to Dylan and find him looking to me as well. He smiles at me reassuringly and I nod. “It’s alright.” I mouth to him.

After the Treaty of Treason, Eustacia doesn't waste any time. "Ladies first!" She calls out to the crowd and draws a slim paper slip from the reaping ball. I am not nervous. I have fiver paper slips in thousands. I am nearly one hundred percent sure that I am not going to become a tribute, and neither is Dylan.

" M A R G A R E T   C O H E N ! "

What?

I freeze, unable to take in what's happening. What, me? MY name, out of the thousands? Those FIVE SLIPS?

My feet feel as if they weigh a ton. I walk toward the stage slowly, my knees shaking. Dylan grabs my hand and squeezes it reassuringly. The boy tribute is an 18 year old who I don't know. We are about to shake hands when there is some commotion in the crowd.

"I volunteer!" A voice yells. My heart sinks. I know that voice almost as well as I know my own. I whisper the name of the voice's owner.

"Dylan, you idiot."