The Hanging Tree. *ON HOLD*

Chapter Eight ~ A Punch in the Face

Chapter Eight ~ A Punch in the Face

I spun around. The scream reminded me of my own. I was suddenly transported into a memory. A memory when I was around the little girl’s age, a memory that triggered the same kind of scream.

I had walked in on Mum cooking and I went up to her and touched her shoulder, chatting about my day at school. She didn’t reply but I just thought she was listening and concentrating on dinner. Oblivious, I was. I was always oblivious. And so I kept talking, not realizing something was wrong. It was only until I heard a strange noise that I got worried. I walked up to her and looked at the pot of boiling water in the stove. It had overflowed and had fallen all over Mum’s hands, scalding them red. As soon as I made contact with her shoulder she grabbed my hand, and clenched tight.

‘Blood,’ a hiss came out of her mouth and at the time it was inaudible. Now, the single word finds its way into my dreams, my head.  It didn’t sound like her voice, it sounded animal like. Snake-like.

‘DADDY,’ I had screamed. I remember the terror filling every pore of my body, seeping into all my veins and muscles. ‘DADDY,’ Dad came running into the kitchen in a panic. He looked between Mum, whose iron grip clenched my hand not loosening, and me, terrified, little me. I could never forget my Dad’s face, a look of agony. He knew what was going on and as I grew older I too realized. No one could get over watching 22 children and countless others die and not become scarred, but Mum had been scarred worse than others. She thought it was her fault. She thought that everyone died for her. And now I think about it, I scoff. Sneer at how selfish she is. They didn’t die for her. They died for freedom, for the dictatorship to be bought down. For the government to give people freedom to stand up for what they believe in.

The 22 children who died had no choice.

The people in the war died because they wanted their country to become a better place, for it to be a place where children wouldn’t be frightened for their lives, where parents could raise babies safely. It wasn’t for my Mum. None of it was for my Mum.

I was snapped back to reality by a sob. I jumped down from the chariot nearly losing my balance but righting myself before I fell. The horses from 13 looked like they were going to run me down no matter what it took and I dived to the side. They narrowly trampled past my head but I manage to spring up in time. Luckily no other chariots were coming and so I made my way slowly towards the mad man and the little girl. The peacekeepers didn’t notice me until I began to speak. No one noticed me until I began to speak. The crowd suddenly went silent as they tried to catch onto my words.

‘It’s alright. Don’t be afraid.’ I whispered to the little girl staring into her gorgeous brown eyes. Then, I turned to the mad man.

‘Hello.’ I said confidently. My feet guided me towards the pair but as soon as I reached the barrier of peacekeepers I was stopped. They were all stronger, tougher and taller than me. They had guns, I didn’t. And yet I wasn’t intimidated. Even though I should have been, I wasn’t. ‘Excuse me.’ I said pushing against the sturdy arm of the peacekeeper who tried to stop me by extending his arm.

‘I can’t allow you to go through Miss.’ the peacekeepers rough voice said through his helmet.

‘Well, I have a very good idea of how to make things right. And between you and me, you and your buddies are doing a pretty crap job at helping. Don’t you think?’ I was ready for the blow, the arms dragging me away. But none of that happened. It was impossible to tell the peacekeepers emotion because of the stupid helmet that covered his face. And yet, still, he didn’t lift his arm. I tried the last thing I could, the last thing that came to mind. ‘What if it was your daughter or son up there? Wouldn’t you at least want someone to try help?’ I said. Yet again, reading his expression was impossible but I stared intently at the space where I thought his eyes would be, nothing, zilch, naught. I turned away, sighing. That little girl could die. She could already be slumped on the floor lying in a pool of her own blood. The thought sent shivers down my back and I knew I had to get in there. I had to help her. I couldn’t just walk away. But I pretended to. And when I felt the peacekeepers gaze leave my back and the crowd go back to their anxious chatter I turned and sprinted forwards. I bundled two peacekeepers out the way landing in a heap on top of them. All the others were too stunned to do anything so I got up ignoring the sharp pain in my leg.

‘STOP, STOP!’ I heard a voice shout behind me, but it felt distant. Like the person saying it was on the other side of the room.

I rushed to the mad man and the little girl. I was so close to them I could touch them but I didn’t. I skidded to a halt panting. The mad man hadn’t pressed the knife against her throat any more than he had already. He looked just as shocked as everyone. I looked into his eyes and something tugged at the back of my mind. Another distant memory, one that couldn’t surface at such an important time, isn’t it wonderful how the mind works? When you need something it won’t conjure it up, but when you don’t need it, boom, millions of thoughts come rushing in.

I shoved the very thought of a memory to the back of my mind, ignoring how familiar the man looked. I bent down gently, my eyes staying fixed on the man. I couldn’t do anything drastic, because of course he was the one with the upper hand. He was the one with the knife. I kept bending down until my knees touched the floor. I finally tore my gaze from the man; with much regret for if anything happened…

‘Hey sweetie,’ I whispered to the little girl. ‘You’re going to be fine alright.’ I heard the mad man scoff and I shot him an angry glare and I was quite taken aback when he shut up. My heart beat quickened. What if this didn’t work? What if my plan failed, like so many other plans I had fabricated? But for now, I couldn’t think it was going to fail. I couldn’t.

‘Do you think you can stop crying, just for a little bit? Don’t nod!’ I added as an afterthought. Nodding wasn’t going to do her any good, except maybe speckled her skin red. But I saw she understood. Then I stood back up, my heart feeling like it was going to burst out of my chest. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the peacekeepers discussing what to do and I saw a very angry woman, fuming at the mouth storming towards us. It could only be President Snow.

‘Let her go.’ I said my voice shaking. I swear every single person in the audience went quiet. But I did hear my name, just my name, spoken by the ever so familiar voice of my Father. That gave me strength and I repeated myself. Much more confident this time, without the shaky voice. But the mad man just laughed, laughed into the echo of silence..

‘Why should I?’ He grinned.

‘Why shouldn’t you?’ I asked challenging him by changing his question to suit my purpose. I could see his eyebrows furrow together and I saw his grip loosen ever so slightly on the little girl’s neck. But she was too busy trying to stop crying to actually pay attention. So intelligence wasn’t this man’s strong point.

‘Because she deserves to die,’ He answered back triumphantly. My stomach sank, my face dropped, time to bring out The Hunger Games card as my last option. I sighed gently and began speaking again.

‘Because she deserves to die,’ I repeated but in a whisper. I let the words fill me with dread. ‘Do 25 other deaths not please you enough?’ I asked. ‘Do 25 deaths not interest you? DO YOU HAVE TO SPARE ANOTHER INNOCENT LIVE FOR YOUR OWN PLEASURE?’ Now I was screaming hysterically, tears dripping down my face. Congratulations Primrose, you have now got yourself viewed as a crazy, hysterical person who deserves no sponsors, well done me.  ‘DO YOU WANT TO KILL SOMEONE YOURSELF? IS THAT IT? BECAUSE I WOULD HAPPILY TRADE PLACES WITH YOU,’ the mad man looked so shocked at my outburst that he dropped the knife. The little girl was free but she didn’t move. She was too scared, scared of me? I felt hands on my shoulders and I turned around. In front of me was the face of President Snow.

‘You,’ I hissed wiping away my tears and throwing her hands of my shoulders. ‘This is your fault,’ and suddenly I felt like it was just her and me, no one else. Adrenaline was pulsing through my veins. I had nothing to lose. I lifted my fist. I made contact with Snows face. I heard a crack and felt warm blood rushing over my fingers. I had just punched the President in the face.

I had just secured my death.