I look from my Mum to my Dad trying to gather some understanding from their expressions but Dad seems to have folded in on himself, far away from reality. Mum looks different, she's stood up straight, her head high, she's never looked strong before.
"You?", I demand. "Why would he hurt you?".
"It's a long story, one we should have told you ages ago, but here in District 12 there's some rules we have to keep to", she replies.
"What does the law have to do with this?", I shout.
Mum glances at Dad, seeking help that he doesn't seem able to provide.
"You're not supposed to find out until you're 18, I'm not sure you're ready", she casts me an uncertain look, as if I'm a child.
"I want to know! I want to know why he hurt you!", I narrow my eyes at Dad, images of his murderous face cross my mind.
"You'll be given the choice at the Informing Willow, we are done discussing this", she sounds stubborn and submissive, a side to her I've never seen.
The Informing; the event in which a child passes into adulthood, all we know is that we sign a contract, proving our loyalty to the improvement of life in Panem. On the eve of our 18th Birthday (mine being the 22nd September) we are taken to the Justice Building and emerge an hour later as an official member of our society. It's only now that I begin to wonder if there is more to this symbolic event than we are led to believe.
"Mum? That's 23 days away!", I protest. I can't believe that Mum and Dad are so calm after what just happened.
"Willow Skye Mellark, do what your mum says please", Dad comes to life, trying to calm me down.
"You don't get to tell me to do anything", I snap, regretting the words as they leave my mouth.
I can see the hurt pass across my dad's face but all I can see is his hand raised ready to strike. I find myself staring at them, wondering how such careful, delicate hands that can create the most beautiful things can be raised to cause such violence only moments later. His palm is tomato red, matching the hot, red mark covering my Mums's left eye. He catches me staring and moves his hands behind his back, his head falling to the floor: guilty.
"Fine, if you won't tell me, I'll find out eventually anyway", I remark. "I'll find out why my parents are a pair of screwed up liars!".
I'm interrupted by a yell from outside. Mum and Dad are rooted to the spot, astounded by my cruel words, the truth has escaped my lips after all these years. I can already feel the relief and the absence of the abundant weight from my shoulders, I'm free.
I'm broken out of my trance by Rye, who enter the room carrying a sobbing Kolton in his arms. Brooke trails close behind him, mostly hidden by Rye's hefty legs. I see a small trickle of blood making its way down Kolton's leg, emerging from an open wound in his knee.
"He......erm....fell", Rye says. "Fell over on in the square". He's hesitant, sensing the tight atmosphere in the room.
Dad is the one who takes Kolton out of his arms and strokes his head. He tickles under him chin and he begins to giggle despite the tears running down his cheeks and dripping onto the floor, joining the peices of Dad's painting. Mum looks uncomfortable at the sight of blood, she's never been tolerant towards injury and never goes to the Doctors.
"Come on, let's get a plaster on that", Dad says, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Then we can find you and Brooke some ice-cream before bed".
H brightens up at this and Brooke wrings her hands in delight at the prospect of such a treat. Mum insists on us all eating healthy and hates to waste any food, however she doesn't seem to trust the luxurious foods enjoyed by other families. Chocolate, Jellies, Ice-creams, Butters, Candy; they are rare and occasional treats and we are constantly reminded not to take them for granted.
