A Perfect Storm (A Fanfiction for "The Hunger Games")

Chapter 1

        Mykael stops and look's into my blue eyes, stern, like a chiding mother. "You're not going in there without me." Then he smiles slightly, some of his usual light returning. "Cheer up. Tonight we can celebrate another year of safety."

        And twenty-three other tribute's year to die. 

I know he's only trying to make me feel better and I appreciate it, but it doesn't help. If my name is picked from the reaping bowl, I'm going into the arena, with or without him and there's nothing that is going to stop the Capitol from taking me away. The power of two teenagers is nothing in comparison to the wrath of President Snow and his citizens. Where our internal rebellion is a steady flame, his ire is a city blown to ashes.

        I hadn't realize how far we'd walked until Mykael knocks on the wooden door of his home. Myra, his mother, answers the door immediately. With one short gasp, she rushes me in and starts shuffling through the cupboards with super human speed, looking for some sort of medicine that might help as though her life depends on it. Her brow is wrinkled in concentration and the roots of her hair are greying from stress and age. Eventually, she releases a sigh of accomplishment and pulls a container out of the drawer. Opening the lid, she applies a milky white substance onto my hand and rubs it gently, as not to irritate the burn further.

        The results are immediate. The cream has some sort of numbing ability and all I can feel are cold fingers clutching my wounds, squeezing the pain from existence and leaving me with unimaginable relief. I sigh aloud and lean back in my chair, the scorched ball in my stomach unravelling and leaving me weightless. 

        "Thank-you," I murmur softly, no words available to express my gratitude. Myra is always so good to me. In other circumstances, I would just believe it is simply in her nature but -- although that is probably at least partly true -- I've always thought that she thinks she owes it to my parents to keep an eye on me.

        "Don't mention it." Myra smiles at me while wrapping a bandage around my arm. "Now," she says when she's done, "are you going to tell me what happened or am I going to have to guess?"

        I shift my fingers uncomfortably in my new temporary cast and purse my lips, knowing that I can't leave without giving her answers. "I wasn't paying attention. The wire –– it was plugged in but I didn't see it.... Before I could react my hand was, well... this."

        Myra clucks her tongue in pity and I fight back the urge to get up and leave right there. "It isn't right. They can't just send a little girl to do their dirty work. I swear, I should file a complaint ––"

        I cut her off and grab her hands which are moving around like crazy. "Please, it's all right. It was my fault. I was being careless." I pause and then grab my ratty old jacket that I should have thrown out months ago but couldn't afford another one. "Thanks for everything."

        Myra looks like she wants to protest but decides not to, probably guessing that she can never win an argument with me. I can return every obstacle that she throws at me. Sighing, she says, "I suppose I shouldn't keep you. You better head back to the orphanage and get ready for the ceremony. But don't forget to come over here tonight. There'll will be a few other children your age and I'm baking a cake." At this she winks at me.

        I nod gratefully and wave as I'm leaving, even though inside I'm trying my hardest not to bite her head off for referring to me and the other girls my age as "children". I'm about to shut the door behind me, but Mykael's blocking my way and I stop, knowing that I can't get past him. "I meant it when I said we'd find you another job, you know." He smiles and winks at me in a perfect imitation of his mother before shutting the door softly behind me and despite myself, the corners of my mouth twitches up at his determination to help me for no reason at all.