You Think This Is Hard? - A Hunger Games/ Glee crossover fanfiction

Chapter 8: The Letter

Chapter 8: The Letter

I stand in the shower, letting the warm, lavender scented water fall over me. It had taken me a good five minutes to work out which buttons to press. Nearly the whole wall is covered in them, so you can’t blame me. There are different buttons to adjust the water pressure, heat, how it smells, what colour it is, and probably a dozen other things that I can’t be bothered working out.

There is a column or shelves to my right that contain various shampoos and body washes. I take time smelling them all, finally settling on one that smells like strawberry, a fruit that I have only ever tasted once, years ago, when both my parents were still alive. I wash my hair and body and then climb out of the shower, grabbing a soft blue towel and wrapping myself in it. The whole left wall is covered with devices that I would not even be able to fathom their purpose if not for small squares of plastic above them detailing their usage. I approach a small, gun-like device that is supposed to be used to dry your hair. I take it off the wall and turn it on, letting the warm air dry my hair, making it feel extremely soft and silky. I run my fingers through it, marvelling at its glossy texture.

I walk out of the bathroom to my wardrobe. I put on a pair of tight black pants, much like the ones I wore yesterday, a light green shirt, a white coat that reaches below my hips and a pair of white dress shoes. I crouch down to retrieve my scarf from the pile where I had thrown my Reaping clothes yesterday. I drape it around my neck and then begin to fold the rest of the outfit. When I reach the pants I wore, I feel a lump in the pocket. I had completely forgotten about the object my father had given me. Before boarding the train, I had shoved in into my pocket, planning to look at it later, but had then forgotten about it.

It is, as I had felt when my father had given it to me, small and circular. It shines gold and is engraved on top with a large winged lizard, its tail twisting around a phrase written in an unrecognisable language. Pugnare pro credis, non quod alii volunt. I say it aloud. Even though I do not know its meaning I like the way the words roll of my tongue.

I notice a small latch on the side of the object. I open it, finding that inside it contains a clock. I glance at the clock next to my bed, and then back at the pocket-watch. The times do not match, and after a second, I realise that the watch in my hand is not ticking. I caress its smooth gold edge, and then turn it upside down, seeing if there is anything on the bottom. A piece of slightly yellowed paper falls to the floor. I pick it up and carefully unfold it. It looks like a letter of some sort.

‘Dear Kurt,’ it begins

‘If you are reading this then it means that something must have happened to me, meaning that I cant tell this to you face to face.. If so, please forgive me, I never wanted to leave you and your father. Anyway, this means that your father must have finally deemed it time for you to read this. He is a great man. I trust him to make a good decision.

Therefore it is time for you to hear the truth, or what I believe is the truth. The truth about the Hunger Games, and the Capitol, and the peacekeepers and everything like this that makes Panem what it is. I know that my opinion is one that is shared my many other people in almost all of the Districts, although on the rare occasion that someone speaks up, they conveniently find them selves the victim of an accident.

This alone shows how powerful, and evil, the Capitol and President Snow are. I mean, every year, they collect children and make them kill each other. It is so unjust. And they live in splendour while we are starving to death here in twelve!

I guess what I am trying to say is that the Capitol must be brought down. We must fight against them; do whatever it takes to bring justice to Panem. We have to rebel. There was talk of a rebellion when I was still a very young child, around the time of Katniss’s games. She was the spark that could have ignited the flame. Then she died and the flame went out.

The reason I am telling you all this is not because I want you to go out and start fighting on the front lines. God, no, I could never let that happen. I just want you to be aware of how unfair all this is. Yes, everyone in the Districts hate the Hunger Games because of how our children are slaughtered, but they don’t see what I think is the bigger picture. They don’t see how because the Capitol can do this, they can do anything. If they desired it, they could suddenly decide to kill half of the population. Do you see now why the Capitol must fall? Because what will be next?

I just want you to know. You don’t need to do anything at all if you don’t want. But if you do want to rebel, even just a tiny bit, know that I am with you every step of the way. But be careful, I could never forgive my self if something happened to you.

Just know, Kurt, that I love you, no matter what, I love you. Be yourself and don’t let anybody hurt you.

Pugnare pro credis, non quod alii volunt. Fight for what you believe in, not what others want.

I love you,

From your mother,

Posy Hawthorne.

I let the letter fall to the floor, shocked. My mum… she wanted to rebel… If this letter had fallen into the wrong hands, then our whole family could have suffered.

I honestly don’t know how to feel about what I just read.

I take the letter and put it in my pocket, along with the pocket watch, and trying to turn my expression into a normal one, make my way to breakfast.