Crippled - 74th Hunger Games fan fiction

Aftermath

Five little boys.

They stood, bare knocked knees, quivering, lined diligently against the cold slabbed wall of the barn. The one on the further left, the eldest took a step forward.

"We got what you wanted," he uttered in a heavy accent, avoiding the man's glare. The man who loomed above the five chugged at another beer with only mere interest.

"Yeah?" he rose an eyebrow. The boys exchanged hasty, uncertain expressions. The tall twelve year old boy with oily brown hair dug his hands further into his pockets.

"And we lost it," he stuttered, eyes darting to his bare feet. The man's eyes widened, a dark flash sparking in his deep eyes.

"Oh yes?" his words were cold as his eyes began to trace the five.

"Which of you lost it?" he snapped, tossing the can to one side. Mangled into metallic pulp it hit the floor with a tinkering clang.

The boys stared at their feet, each swallowing nervously. Silent.

Suddenly the man reached out and grabbed the muddy ginger boy on the right by the scruff of his patched polo.

"Was it you, Nicholas?" he asked slowly, slurred words tumbling spitefully from his mouth. He surveyed the podgy, freckled red head who blinked furiously, fear coating his terrified expression. The man shook his head, abstractly chucking the boy back to his position.

He moved onto the next, a smaller, skinny boy with huge, baby blue eyes and angelic curls.

"What about you, Luke?" the man whispered. "Was it you, Lukas?" Luke's innocent eyes filled with tears as his glance flickered away. The man snorted.

"Have you all forgotten how I took you all in? All of you abandoned babies - gave you a future in thieving? How I feed you and clothe you? Have you forgotten how I care for you, children?"

His deep eyes curved cruelly over the tiny boys. "District ten is a hard place to live if you're an orphan," he muttered, running a hand through his greasy strands of slicked back hair. "You're the lucky ones."

The boys continued to avert their gazes, lips drawn in defiant taciturn.

"Fine then. Was it Alexei - maybe even the esteemed Robin?" he turned to the two eldest who snapped their gazes from his swiftly. Alexei shook his head, guiltily.

The man reached for Robin, his thief's, calloused fingers curling under the boy's pale chin.

"Come now, Robin. See how these boys respect you; how they look to you as their leader. How you have everything. I gave you everything." Robin's steely green eyes did not peel from his scrubby black sneakers.

There was a silence.

"Robin, there's one thing you should learn." the man stepped closer, the boy blinking back at him with big eyes. He grinned slowly. "I always win."

"It wasn't me."

Fear shook through the words of the little boy,  who had seemed so big seconds ago as he receded, trembling fingers tugging at his cuffs.

A dark smirk twisted the man's lips into a cruel smirk. "Then we know who it was."

He stepped closer to the shortest of the boys, a lithe, olive skinned child with chilling eyes and a mass of unruly dark curls.

"Otto," he crooned. "Was it you, Otto?" The little boy swallowed, but tilted his chin upwards, bravely.

The man moved closer, harsh smirk lining his twisted lips, in sadistic anticipation. The tiny boy said nothing, gripping shaking fingers together.