Hope's Lost (51st Hunger Games)

Chapter 4- Or Give me Death!

          Once the ordeal ended I was to make my way home, pack a few supplies, go to the Justice Building, say my last goodbyes, and board the train on my way to the Capitol. I walked back home with a few Peacekeepers behind me to make sure I didn’t run from my inevitable fate. There was a terrible feeling in the pit of stomach that simply felt unreal when the last of the people I had only been acquaintances with stared at me in fear. Why were they afraid? Why were they staring? Did they want to get an eyeful of me in a normal state before I would die on their screens?

         I walked inside my home and it felt as though it wasn’t mine. My father was at the Justice Building already with the few others who wished to bid me ado. Grabbing a small knapsack that Randal made from fishnets (he literally makes net-bags for a living since they’re a style trend here in District 4 after I was first seen walking around with it.) It was a clever idea though; it certainly gave the feel of our district. I took two sets of clothing and my father’s fishing boots for the trip there, knowing my whole wardrobe would most likely be replaced by eager stylists.

        In choosing my token, it was a difficult decision. I had to decide between my mother’s vial of the cure and Terra’s ring. Then I was reminded of what kind of target Terra’s ring would place on me and instead stashed the vial in my net bag. As I stood there, I took in my home for the last time. The colored streamers floated above my head and suddenly their colors seemed a little less bright. The house was dim, the morning light was still pouring in from the outside through the windows. I took a few deep breaths, as though to remind myself that there was nothing I could do about this. I walked out of the home.

       I’ve never thought about death or dying myself before. It seemed comedic in the way that I thought I was almost immortal. I never lived my days like they were my last and sometimes they would drag on horribly, but this was the uniform lifestyle I had known. Do your best, never show your inner pain to others, always be alert, always be respectful, and most of all, protect the family’s honor. When I was brought into life it was almost as though I was marked by that calling. I didn’t want it and certainly never did need it, but this was my destiny and what I was born for. Maybe the Hunger Games was simply to prove myself.

      When I walked outside, the Peacekeepers seemed to not want to be doing this as much I did. I slumped down and walked along as slowly as possible to take in what might’ve been my last time in District 4. The lighthouse that towered over the district, almost guarding it with its steely gaze, almost seemed to mourn my leaving as well. So many I had spent there working and watching the boats and ships go by. I loved the peace it would give me to be alone, but that peace was shattered by a trifling little thing called the Hunger Games. I would certainly die someday, but I would want to die a peaceful death, one maybe lying on the warm sand and in the sun as the cooling spray of the waves pulled my dead body out to sea.

       But I was Hope Centelinea. A person like me should never think of death in a negative way. My father says that he carefully thinks of everything he does in his life so that when he dies, he won’t have any regrets. I believed in that. Maybe I could die in peace during the Hunger Games if I simply do the right thing now. Father tells me that there’s always someone watching over us to make sure we do things right, and even if we don’t that someone will forgive us.

       I approached the Justice Building and stared at the giant hanging flags of Panem on both sides of the entrance. Over the entrance there was a giant long piece of blank cloth with our District symbol on it. The Peacekeepers opened the huge doors to the building as they left me to stand in the plaza in front of it. They waved me in and led me into a room where the doors were sealed off and I was alone. The stale air surrounded the old wooden looking furniture. Decorations in the room were grand and ornate. I wondered if a Capitol carver or one from the lumber district came to do it.