Now you're just somebody that I used to know
*cue music by Gotye*
Tapp Luck's (District 1) P.O.V:
This is it. The last time I see any of them. My mom, my dad. Luci.
Luci. I'm doing it for her. So she'll see that I really do care. That I'm not a ruthless killer. That the frightened eyes of those eight tributes still appear in my dreams, giving me one last pleading glance to spare their lives before I deal the final blow.
I'm not telling her, even though she's my sister and she's going to be so upset with me when it happens. But with her recent mood swings toward me, I can't predict how she'll react if I tell her now. Luci'll either dismiss it and yell that she doesn't care and sassily walk away if she's mad at me, or she'll break down in tears and start screaming at me to not do what I plan to, and then she'll just be miserable for even longer. I don't want her to be upset, I want Luci to be happy. I want her to be the carefree girl she used to be, before we started worrying, before the Hunger Games. Before our twelfth birthdays came around.
My birthday is coming soon, exactly five days from now, so I'll be turning fifteen in the Capitol. They're probably going to host some celebration, a party in honor of me, where I'll be in the spotlight, the District 1 birthday boy. That's just about the last thing I want at the moment. All I desire to do is have nothing to do with the Hunger Games and find some way to convince my sister I'm still the brother she used to know. And that involves a dark room, silence, and my own thoughts- exactly the opposite of what I will be recieving. And presents, too... I'm going to have to act like I care about any of the crap I get. I wonder if the other tributes are going to be forced to pick out something for me. I hope not. Just because I aged another year isn't a reason for me to receive anything special.
See, the Games have changed me. They've turned a smiling, outgoing, optimistic young fourteen-year-old into a stressed, sleep-deprived, antisocial adolescent who feels five times his age with all the problems on his shoulders. I was pushed to the limit in the Games and I broke when I got home. I snapped when I fought with Luci. I hate arguing with her. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. So I gave up.
And that's just what they want you to do, isn't it? The Capitol, I mean. They want us to give up, to become their obedient little dogs who know they have no hope of escaping the clutches of their master. Who are just smart enough to realize that the electric fence will shock them and it hurts, but not intelligent enough to find a way to disable it and pass through.
I'm doing one last final thing, though- to make a small puncture in the fence. When the time comes. It may result in sadness for my family, but I'll know that Luci will know that I care. That I didn't want to take the lives of those eight, and that I'm never taking anymore. She won't understand that until I do it. She certainly doesn't now.
At the moment she's in one of her angry moods. She's glaring at me silently, not speaking a word, as nothing good would come out. Our parents, ever proud that I'm advancing to the final Games, chatter on excitedly, hugging me, utterly convinced that I'm going to win. I'm not telling them, either. They would think I've gone insane.
Perhaps I have. After all, I am going to do all this just to prove a point, to speak my opinion, to show Luci. It probably wouldn't seem worth it to most other people. Because of what's going to happen to me after I do it. I know what my fate will be. And none of the people who care about me will be pleased with it.
I'm more than thankful when the Peacekeeper swings open the door to the room and says our time is up. I'm sick of my mom and dad's positive attitudes about how I'm going to come out of the Hunger Games crowned victor, showered in riches and fame, how proud they are of me even though my death is still very likely in the final Games, against a bunch of other people who survived to the final three in their Games; I'm sick of Luci's glare and how she hates me at the moment. I love them all, of course, but I just want this all to be over with already.
I watch my family file outside, first my mom, then my dad. The Capitol photographer who was recording everything that went on during our 'final goodbye'. And finally, Luci. Right before she exits the room, she pauses. She's facing away from me, so I can't see her face. All of a sudden, she twirls around and runs into my arms, hugs me for less than a second, pulls away so quickly I don't even have time to hug her back, and catches up to our parents like it never happened.
I am left standing there debating whether that was forgiveness or not. Was that her saying that everything between us was okay now? It didn't really seem it; the hug was so short and she obviously didn't want to seem affectionate toward me. But she did show that she cared a little bit about me. She didn't just walk away, which I really appreciate. But it didn't feel as though my little sister completely forgave me for killing those eight. She still thinks I'm a murderer, but I'm her brother all the same.
I'm still doing it. Luci didn't say enough. I still have to show her she's wrong that I'm different than I was before.
The time has come for me to protest against the Hunger Games.