Scars That Never Fade- A New Generation of Hunger Games

Chapter 3

I entered my house to find my grandmother asleep in her rocking chair, knitting needles resting in her lap. Old photographs of my father, my uncles and aunt, and my grandfather lined the walls. Their faces looked so similar to mine, it almost frightened me sometimes.

I walked to my room, stripping down to a tanktop and shorts. I lay down in my creaky bed, thinking about the Games.

Why were they happening again? I couldn't help but wonder. It sickened me to think about more kids dying, more people watching. Another thought popped into my head. What if it was me? What if they chose me? Silly girl, I thought, and drifted off to sleep.

I didn't dream of anything. Maybe I did, but I certainly couldn't remember. I went to the bathroom and took a cold shower like always. The temperature of the water never fazed me, in fact, I loved the cold. One of my favorite parts of living in District 12 was the winters. The ones in District 2 were always harsh and had tons of blizzards, but in 12, they were clear and beautiful. I finished washing up, and headed to the kitchen, where my grandmother was sitting a the table. She looked up from the puzzle she was trying to complete and smiled at me.

"I have some fruit and oats for you, dear," she said kindly.

"Thank you," I tried to return her politeness. I gathered the food set out for me and joined her at the table. We didn't really talk, we rarely ever did. As if there were anything to talk about. My dad? Not on a bet. She was surely worried about him, as was I. And she never really liked talking about whatever happened in the past. I could certainly see why. My grandfather was killed in an accident, when my father was still young. According to my father, my grandmother had a very hard life until after the second rebellion. My father always reminded of how lucky I was to live in a peaceful time. Without a dictator. Without rebellions. Without massacres. Without the Games. Until now.

I kissed my grandmother on the cheek and I headed out the door. She rarely fussed over my constantly being outdoors, she knew that if I was my father's daughter, she'd never be able to keep me in. I walked the familiar path to Theo's and checked the place where he hides his bow to see if he had left. It was there, so I knew he was home.

OF COURSE, YOU IDIOT. I thought this to myself. HE'S SUPPOSED TO LEAVE TODAY, DONT YOU REMEMBER? HE'S OBVIOUSLY GOING TO BE HERE, GETTING READY. I kicked a rock and watched it bounce and spin across the street. I turned myself around, heading towards the diner. I needed a soda. Walking through rows of neat little houses, I remembered Theo's words last night. "Whatever you do, don't come." Why shouldn't I come? Would Theo's parents be suspicious? Is it dangerous? Danger didn't scare me, not really. I wondered if Theo was hiding something from me. What should I do? I didn't have much to lose.

I approached the diner, which seemed unusually empty for a Saturday. But it didn't really bother me until I entered. Several men (at least they looked like men) dressed in white bodysuits and helmets surrounded the folks running the diner. They had guns. I froze, and my breathing grew shallow. The men didn't notice me there.

"You can't just give things away!" one shouted at the diner people, "You're doing fiscal damage to all of Panem! You don't want to anger President Snow." President Snow. President Snow? He was dead. He died in the second rebellion, quite a few years before I was even born. What could this mean? Scared, I slipped out the diner door and began running full speed towards home. I heard yelling and multiple gunshots. For the first time in a long time, I began to cry. Not just tears. Full-on, hysterical blubbering. I was trying to grasp what was happening. Theo's family leaving, my dad disappearing, the Games coming back, and... President Snow? I kept on running, wiping my tears as I went. My vision grew blurry, and I stumbled over rocks again and again. I didn't dare look behind me. I tripped, and felt my knee tear open. I got to my feet again and kept going. The gash in my knee seared in pain, and I felt blood trickling down. This only made me cry harder. My eyes stung from the salt tears, and I fell again. This time, I hit my head, causing another gash. I grew angry from this situation, got up and kept running more. I hardly even knew where I was going.

"What are you doing?" I stopped in my tracks, wiping blood, tears and dirt from my face. I turned around, and oh... of course. Theo. How embarrassing it was for him to see me like this.

But he knew that something was terribly wrong. His eyes grew large with fear and anticipation as he looked at my bloodied state.

"What happened to you!?" he cried. I shook my head.

"These men...." I sobbed, "at the diner...they had white suits and...they had...guns..." I was shaking.

"Go on, Fern," urged Theo frantically, "what did they do?"

"They were yelling at people at the diner," I continued, trying to regain my composure, "and they shot them." I had never witnessed or imagined anything so frightening and scary, not even in the stories Theo or my father had told me.

"Is that it?" Theo tried to comfort me, putting a hand on my shaking shoulder. I stopped shaking and breathed deeply.

"No." I gulped. "They were threatening them, and, and they said something about President Snow."

Theo's expression changed from one of worriedness to sheer terror. I saw the thoughts racing through his head, the ideas, possibilities, the consequences. He put his face into his hands.

"The Peacekeepers are back. Panem is going back to the way it was before."