Author Games: Age of Rebellion

Task Three - The Hostage - Females

But is that what my brother’s would want me to do? Surely not. They expect us to win this war and we can’t give up now. We won’t. 

A cruel smile crawls across my lips on that last thought. I lift my eyes up to the fire and stare at the unrecognizable body that was once Meri. Giving up now would be a huge dishonor on her and I can’t do that. I guess that means one thing; District Thirteen better be ready. I say a silent prayer to my brothers and the rest of the rebel population and then get to my feet.

“Come on, Auriel. We have a war to win.”

DISTRICT FIVE - Amelia Watton

My mother used to tell me that there was nothing in the world that mattered except the friendships we made and the families we had. Everything else could be eliminated and we could still live a happy life even if we didn’t have a home or money or a job. But now here I was, essentially friendless in the midst of a rebellion, my family left in Thirteen. I have broken the one rule my mother always used to tell me to follow.

It’s nighttime but no one is sleeping- we moved from the basement of the store to a larger furniture store across the street after the man killed five of our own. Although most of the store had been ransacked and bullets riddled the ground, we found some extra couches and chairs in the back storeroom and set up base on the second floor, where there was only one way in or out, not counting the window which was impossible to access. The only sounds are of the quiet muttering between pairs, their voices strained. The two girls who are always together try to sleep, a blanket layed out on the floor. They lost an ally on the first day.

I sit on a wooden chair, its arms broken from being thrown about, no doubt it is of no value, otherwise the robbers would’ve taken it a long time ago. I sit alone up near the window, staring across the dark skyline, the burning bodies still illuminating the square as if the streetlights were still on, casting strange shadows across the ground, never reaching the dark shadows of the alleys.

They announced it ten minutes ago. The possibility of our loved one’s being kept hostage prey on everyone’s minds, the thought of them being tortured never far away. My mother and sister, Harper so young- they could be in the Capitol right now. I’ve heard stories of the torture. The water and the shocks and the meticulous cuts. The Capitol already knows everything about us, but the question that is still risen is whether or not they were bluffing.

I hear a muffled sniffle come from behind me, but I don’t turn around to see who is upset- there’s no time to be upset. The day before I left my mother came up to me with determination lit up in her eyes. She was a small woman, like me, who, after working in the factory for over twenty five years had gained the walk of someone who had places to go.

She pulled me inside of our room, shared between the three of us, and locked the door, her hands on my shoulders as she sat me down on the hard bed. Even now I can still remember everything she had told me. Her hair was grey, her features dulled by the faint light that buzzed faintly above us. The lines, however, that were etched into her face were evident, my father’s and brother’s death were still showing.

Taking a breath, she held my hands and said, “Amelia Mae, did I ever tell you you were named for your grandmother? Your grandmother, she lived in the times when the Games first began, when the first Rebellion was ending. Five years after I was born, seven after my brother, my mother disappeared, much like we have now that we’re in Thirteen. No word from her, no word from the Capitol. We feared the worst, which I’m sure you can assume.

“Unfortunately, Amelia, those things happen. My mother was a wonderful woman who did just a bit too much for the cause. And now you are taking in her footsteps.” I nodded solemnly. I could only hope what happened to my grandmother was good, but deep in my heart I knew it couldn’t be true. And now my mother was telling me I was just like her, predestined to die at the hands of what I was fighting for. I could only hope I went peacefully, or not at all.