A Price To Pay (The Hunger Games Prequel)

The Hunger Games Prequel - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Our home is dark and gloomy, our faces faintly illuminated by the dying fire. Ash and I eat our meagre rations in silence, neither of us daring to voice our fears from today.

After the announcement, Chadley had swept off the stage with an elegant flourish, leaving the families of District 12 alone in the square, stricken with shock. The crying had started soon after that as families clung to each other for comfort. Ash and I had simply walked back to our home, only a few streets away from the square. I refused to show any sign of emotion in front of the Capitol. I kept us both busy for the rest of the daylight hours, gathering fallen branches for firewood. The wailing from the square and the cries for mercy continued until sundown. Then they were ordered home by the Peacekeepers. No-one was allowed to break the curfew.

I finish my meal, my stomach groaning from lack of food; one slice of bread simply is not enough to fill me up. As soon as Ash finishes, I scoop up the two empty plates and clear them away, trying to push away all thoughts of today’s announcement.

“Alright, Ash.” I say, deliberately keeping my voice calm and controlled. “It’s time for bed.”

He scrunches his eyebrows together, his mouth puckering into a pout. “I’m too scared to sleep.” His voice wobbles and I bite my lip.

“I’ll tell you a story.” I smile at him, knowing his weakness and watching his face light up. Ash loves stories. My father used to read to us every night. His voice was like magic, his character impressions funny and very realistic. I was a poor substitute but there was only me left now. Our mother had died four years ago in childbirth. The baby, Elena, was stillborn. My father had never been the same since.

“Okay. But you have to tell me two because I’m doubly scared tonight.” Ash says, looking at me with hopeful eyes and breaking the train of my thoughts.

“Alright.” I agree, wanting to make him happy.

My chest tightens with worry as I wonder how many bedtime stories we had left. What if I am chosen for the Hunger Games? And if not this year, what about the next? And the next…

And then it will be Ash’s turn to be chosen. I feel sick to the core. It’s too horrifying to even imagine someone as innocent as Ash being thrown into the Hunger Games arena, as helpless as a lamb locked in a slaughter pen.

Oblivious to my dark thoughts, Ash runs out of the room, his blond locks bouncing up and down with each step. I chuckle slightly at his eagerness and finish clearing up from dinner. I frown slightly as I remember an issue just as pressing as these Hunger Games.

Food.

Although we lived in the richer part of town, we were not particularly well off. My father had scraped a living by making and mending boots for the miners, but that stopped once the rebellion started and his shop was destroyed in one of the Capitol bombings. After that, my father threw himself into the rebellion like a crazed man- his devotion to the fight for freedom plain for all to see.

It pained me, knowing why he fought so hard for the rebellion. He had never gotten over the agony of losing my mother. It was a difficult birth, but Capitol medicine could have saved both her and my unborn sister. But they weren’t available to us. Why should they be? The Capitol has never cared about the people living in the Districts. That was the moment when my father finally realised how much he hated the Capitol and the whole rotten country of Panem. After my mother’s death, fighting for the rebellion was the only time my father had ever been truly happy.

But it was a heavy price to pay. Now he’s gone, I can’t afford to keep us both alive for much longer. I count the remainder of the money obsessively; it can barely feed us for a few weeks. Somehow, I need to find a way of earning my keep, before it’s too late.