Shattered (A Hunger Games Fan-fiction) (Wattys2015) (#feels)

Chapter 8

"Well done there," says a voice I don't recognize at all. I slowly turn around to see a tall, well-built man who looks to be in his mid-twenties. He has piercing gray eyes and white-blonde hair, and his face is void of emotion.

"Thank you," I say uncertainly. Then I notice what he is wearing and everything clicks into place: the cold, calculating stare, the crisp accent and the cold demeanor. He is wearing the white uniform that only Peacekeepers wear.

"You must be Finnick Odair," he says and I square my shoulders.

"Who is asking?"

"My name is Marvin Fay," he replies. "I have been sent by Maxwell Tremors to fetch you."

I clench my fists tightly. Maxwell Tremors is the Head Peacekeeper. This can't be good.

"Do I have to go right now?" I ask stiffly. The peacekeeper eyes me coldly for a second, his gaze raking over every part of me. Then, his mouth seems to twitch a little as he replies.

"Yes, right now." His voice is void of emotion. It is a monotone that only the white uniformed officers of the district seem to posses. He inclines his head to the left where the others are still busy catching fish. I see Malcolm bending over another grey bucket that is filled with freshly caught shrimps. He deposits something into it and then moves back towards the lake. I watch as a girl with short black hair slowly moves towards the bucket. Her eyes scan the area carefully, before she slips a gloved hand into it and brings up a few shrimps. She closes her fist around it and then slips her hand into the inside pocket of her jacket. When she brings it back out, her hand is empty.

"Okay," I tell Marvin Fray. "But I think I should tell them I'm leaving."

He peers at me through his cold, calculating eyes and then shakes his head.

"You have been summoned by the Head Peacekeeper. You don't have to tell anyone you have to go." And with that he starts walking briskly towards the dirt road that leads away from the lake and my school.

We walk in silence, neither of us bothering to acknowledge the other. I gaze around me and wonder how long it has been since I last walked home with my father. Of course it has only been about two days, but it seems longer. It seems as if I have not walked with him in more than a month. A knot forms in my stomach as I realize that this is how it is going to be now. I will remember my father when I walk home, but I'll never actually be with him again. The realization causes my throat to feel constricted, but I swallow hard, remembering who is walking beside me at the moment and where we are headed.

We pass The Mart and it looks like any old rundown building from here. But I know that every morning and evening people line up outside it, waiting for it to open, and inside it is dark, the only source of light being a few flickering candles. But right now it looks abandoned.

The sun has risen higher in the sky and it's rays are warmer than they were in the morning. There is a slight breeze blowing and it is churning up the dirt on the road. The trees on both sides are standing tall and silent, their branches tipped towards the sky.

I notice that we are not headed towards the Justice Building. We turn away from it actually: onto another side street which is bordered with yew hedges. I look over my shoulder at it as it fades in the distance behind us. From here, it looks like a jagged tomb in a graveyard because everything around it is grey and silent.

"Why aren't we going there?" I say evenly, pushing my hands into the pockets of my trousers. They brush against a wad of tissues and my mind suddenly flashes back to all the times my brother scolded me when I forgot to clean out my trouser pockets. She would wash my uniform and would find loads of tissues and crumpled papers in the pockets and if she didn't remember to look through the pockets, they would always get washed with the clothes, making them stick to the cloth in soft tufts. It breaks my heart not knowing when that will happen again.