The Hidden Truth

Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games series or the Divergent series

theinnovationclub 

hanifaansarii

"Hello," I say to the camera, my hands folded on the cold metal desk. "My name is Amanda Ritter." No, it's not, the voice in my head whispers. I shake it away and continue talking about who I am and why I am in this video.

After I conclude the first part of the speech, I pause. Later, the tech crew will add pictures, some that hit a little too close to home for me.

"You do not remember any of that," I continue. "But if you are thinking these are the actions of a terrorist group or a tyrannical government regime, you are only partially correct. Half of the people in those pictures, committing those terrible acts, were your neighbours. Your relatives. Your coworkers. The battle we are fighting is not against a particular group. It is against human nature itself- or at least what it has become."

I pause so the words can sink into the people watching, just like how I was instructed to do. But it didn't just sink into the people in the future watching this video. Those words also brought up deep memories, that I tried to forget about.

Never truer, I think. The innocent kids pulled into the mess, whose parents weren't even alive when the whole thing happened. That evil group of people, who killed so many year after year.

The person behind the camera- Josh, I think his name is, shoots me a look. I know from the rigorous rehearsal for this very video that it means it's time to start speaking again.

"That is why you are so important," I begin. "Our struggle against violence and cruelty is only treating the symptoms of the disease, not curing it. You are the cure."

"The reason I am leaving this footage for you is so that you will know when it's time to help us. You will know that it is time when there are many among you whose minds appear to be more flexible than the others. The name you should give those people is Divergent. Once they become abundant among you, your leaders should give the command for Amity to unlock the gate forever, so that you may emerge from your isolation."

No, I think. The Bureau will keep the people in the fence, as guinea pigs for whatever other experiments they feel like doing.

"The reason I am leaving this footage for you-" Well, you will have to check the video to find out. I have no intention of repeating my whole Bureau-issued speech. I was sick of the speech the first dozen times. Now it was just a nuisance.

I think I had practiced this speech more times than any from when I was in school, combined!

I shake out of my wandering thoughts. No, P- Amanda, you are in the middle of a speech. Don't get distracted, I scold myself, for both getting distracted and for the slip-up.

"The information in this video is to be restricted to those in government only," I say, continuing where I last left off. "You are to be a clean slate. But do not forget us."

I have to smile a little at the irony of the last line.

"I am about to join your number," I disclosed. "Like the rest of you, I will voluntarily forget my name, my family, and my home. I will take on a new identity, with false memories and a false history. But so that you know the information I have provided you with is accurate, I will tell you the name I am about to take as my own."

My smile widens, not at irony this time, but at the prospect of the next sentence. "My name will be Edith Prior," I say. "And there is much I am happy to forget."

"Cut!" The director yells, and as soon as the camera stops rolling, the whole studio bursts into applause. I don't know what they are applauding at, all I did was memorize a script.

The director makes his way over to me, pushing past cameramen and stumbling into people at the snack table. Clearly, he had been drinking but tried to hide it, failing. People gave him annoyed looks behind his back, but they couldn't do more, in fear of losing their job.

As he reached me, he stumbled over a loose cable from one of the cameras, so I reached out my hand to help sturdy him.

"Good job Amanda," he said, beaming and slightly slurring his words. "Or should I say Edith?" he joked badly. I gave him a small smile in return, as he continued talking about what I'll record next.

Though, in my head, I had a million thoughts running through my brain.

My name is not Amanda Ritter, and it's not even Edith Prior yet.

My name is Primrose Everdeen.

And Alma Coin forced me to fake my death. 

How was it? Should I continue this story?