"I promised, Sammy. I'll be home soon."
-
If you arrived one day at Panem, you'd be informed that the country was divided into thirteen sections, called districts. The districts were all in charge of a specific resource- food, steel, coal, etc. They were controlled by a government who dubbed themselves as the Capitol, filled with rich people, ignorant of the suffering outside of their homes.
If you walked into District 13, the district in charge of graphite, and took a left, heading deeper into the slums, you'd eventually come across a small brick cottage, with a small cobwebbed window, covered in dust.
If you walked into the cottage through the small door that was falling apart by the hinges, you'd see that the inside of the cottage was just barely big enough for a kitchen and two rooms, the rooms containing three hay pallets in total.
If your path took you into the kitchen, there'd be a small stove and a dirty wooden table for meals. If you looked closely at the corner of the table, you'd see two pairs of initials carved roughly by young hands into the wood. D.W., was one of them. S.W. was the other. You might've disregarded them.
You'd quickly notice that the cottage was empty, no signs of recent activity apparent. You might exit the cottage then, heading down a worn dirt path through the grass, trailing to the fence surrounding the entire district.
A few hums of electricity might be heard, if your ears were functional and if the fence was working that day. Upon hearing this buzz, you might be compelled to turn back, in fear of becoming shocked with 5000 watts of electricity at once.
But beyond that fence would be a forest. And in that forest, a few years ago, on reaping day, you would've found the owners of initials D.W. and S.W.