The Hunger Games: AVOX

1 - The Chance

There's was always an odd feeling of knowing. An issue of certainty that always sprang up around the time of the reaping. It grew like a well fed rat; quickly. Often ballooning like the horrid consensus of all those around. Dire circumstances generally don't fall like rain, but more like  bird droppings. There's always only one who's hit below, or maybe that's the only time we notice. The relief at someone else's misfortune is like death itself, for those who have some sort of self awareness. It's bloody in the end, but painful from the start.

My name's David. I've given up life for this. I've been watching the games from a very young age and have never been able to make sense of them. Those who have some sort youthful worth, must work to not have it taken from them. We've all bled before, but to have someone take your blood from you just to spill it on the ground in front of you, is not natural. We never actually learn who our real friends are in the end. The capitol will build you up, in a fictional sort of way, but your opponents will die with you. Is there a justice that really exists in an objective sense, because all this retribution is deeply personal. A slap in the face from all who support it, and a detriment to any sort of humanity.

The capitol has no interest in our private lives. They don't pry or spy, they live through the sheer might of moral oppression. It's a strength that will never fizzle out, never lose potency, because it has sworn itself to the darkest corners of the mind and lit a fire that consumes with horror and shock and drama. We live against our will and die against our will. There is no fruit that grows without being plucked and devoured. It is all a horrible fantasy of those in power. And so, I must escape. 

I've begun the day early and alone. I've worn dark, hearty clothing which will absorb the beating from the sticker bushes and all encompassing barbed wire around the district. I have no tools for clipping the wire or fence. This land was built by the capitol to house their less fortunate. We are given no tools to create, just merely supply the life to the rich estate to the west. My district, 12 is the coal district, though. So I have taken what I needed from the mines. A hardhat with a light on top, a pick axe, coal for starting fires out in the wilderness, and electrical wire I will use as rope, if I need to hang myself to avoid torture or otherwise slow death.

There will be unpredictable dangers, but they will not haunt me during the day. There will be something unknown and wild, but that is my nature. I will not be futile and domesticated. There must be something out there worth living for. I've given myself this chance, because I know that's what it is.

I look around my house with no sense of belonging. It may be a temporary strength just to get me going, but it will do. It is 4 in the morning and all is dark, I've grown accustomed to that in the mines and get moving. There is a wind that blows for me, I let it guide me until it no longer serves me, then I follow my heart. I live near the edge of the district in the slums and there will be no one to stop me. They work 16 hours a day and sleep deeply, though I do not believe they rest at all. 

The path I take is a straight one, there are no peacekeepers to avoid at this time. They switch on the power to the electric fence and lock themselves away in their compound. I don't know what they do in there and I don't care, it has nothing to do with me. Even in this dark environment, I see movement and darker shadows. Are they always creeping about or is this the first defense of the capitol: to own the security of the night for themselves? A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead and I vaguely wonder why. It's not because of danger, I think. It's because of the beautiful sound ahead. A buzzing from the electric fence. 

I make my way to it and without breaking stride swing my pick ax into the ground a foot in front of it. I've never tried to dig in the dirt and find it immensely easier than digging through rock. I swing over and over again and scoop out the dirt with my hands. A real sweat starts to take over, hot and dripping over my body like a liquid embarrassment. It takes me to another land. It beckons me over and squeezes me in a tight embrace. I can't breathe. I'm falling into it and I'm al-most-there! I swing my pickax again and hit something. There's a crack, like the breaking of a shell, and a liquid shoots all over my body. It's deeply pungent is literally burning my sense of smell away. I hear something that sounds like me screaming, and then it's overwhelmed by a three note alarm. It's so loud I can't tell if it's in my head or coming from a speaker nearby but either way I'm in hysterics. My vision is grows darker and it's like my sense of self is being eclipsed and then I have the literal sensation of falling. Then I hit the ground.

I am here.

And there's no panic in this dark place but there is a knowing. A certainty. And this time it feels like a blessing. That for now, this moment is safe. And this darkness is a poetry I will one day enjoy again. But this gift is one I pay for myself. I will wake to the horrors and consequences of my actions, but this rest and nothingness is mine.

I have the sense that something horrible is happening to me. It's invasive and surgical. It's taking my identity away, and though there is no pain, there is an exposure to it. I'm still in my beautiful darkness but it's no longer comforting. It's a manifestation of every thing that could go wrong and it's weighing me down. My mind cannot take this vulnerability I  must break out! Was this what I wished for? A sightless reality where there is no one and nothing. Help me!

I feel something in what must be my arm, though it doesn't feel familiar. It's not mine anymore, that much I know. I awake. I look into the face of a smiling woman. I smile back, that's not mine either. 

She grabs my face, and tilts my head side to side. There is an unrealness about it. After what I experienced in that comfort of nothingness, the vice like grip of her bony hands wrapping around my fleshy face is not what I expected. There's something else too, I don't think I can smell. There's no earth to this place, it's all sterile and lifeless. I don't belong here like no living thing belongs here.

I look try to look around but she's still holding my face. My eyes dart to a place on the board which looks like chicken scratch. I can't make sense of it, I can't make sense of anything. Still, it strangely resembles something important. 

The woman speaks. "Greetings, How unfortunate this must all seem to you."

I stared at her, unknowing.

"You've been given a second chance. I'm afraid you might be confused about that right now."

Yes, confused.

"I hope you know that you and I will be seeing quite a bit of one another, for a short time. If you are incapable of learning, it will be a much longer time."

Time? I looked away from her and back at the chicken scratch. It now resembled something I used to know: english. I stared at it.

"You are not completely free of burden, I'm afraid. Now tell me, what is your name?"

I began to make sense of the words on the wall.

She jerked my focus back to her. "Speak," she said.

"Arghuuhgh," I managed. Something was wrong. I couldn't speak!

"Good," she smirked with ease, releasing my face.

My eyes darted to the words on the wall with alarm, reading them over and over again.

"AVOX_BOARDING_AND_DISCIPLINE:_ROOM_ONE"