Note: This is another entry I chose not to do, but wanted to include in this book. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
I stand on the edge of the town, watching as people go to the building where the Reaping will take place. My hands are shoved into my pockets, and the sun beats down on me, harsh and unforgiving.
I don't want to be here today. Anywhere else would be better than here. There isn't an option, though. If I don't show up, they'll hunt me down. If I want to run, today isn't the day. Disappearing today would be the worst idea ever. Like begging them to discover that I'm gone before they need to.
To run for the forests and build a home there. That's all I have ever wanted since I killed the woman who murdered my parents. For years, I wanted only revenge. I trained savagely, longing for the day when I could kill the insane ex-friend that murdered my parents and tried to kill me.
They died saving me. Their actions gave me enough time to run. Without it, I would've fallen to the woman's blade as well. As it is, I'll never forget my mother's screaming and their tears. I didn't leave like I should've. I stayed and watched from a hidden spot until the woman left. And I remembered her.
She was my first kill.
And last.
Unless the Capital messes it up today.
Killing really messed me up. I've never felt such savage joy when doing something. It satiated me and released a ravening beast that I didn't know existed. The hunger to destroy those who hurt me is strong. Sometimes, I'm not sure if I can control it. If I'm put into situations where I'm threatened, that part of me, that cruel beast, takes over.
I can't say that it's just anger that sparks it. No, it's more than that. It's cool, calculated rage that lies behind that section of my personality. Maybe I'm bipolar or something. I don't know. But I do everything I can to keep myself from ever becoming that killer again.
I push off the lamppost I've been leaning on and shuffle towards the gathering place. My feet drag over the asphalt, and my head drops. My eyes scan the crowd from under my lashes, but mostly, I focus on the ground in front of me.
No one here wants to hurt me. I just know it. Like a sixth sense or something... But I always know when people are lying to me or when they want to hurt me. I sort of feel it deep in my gut. It's weird, but I'm rarely wrong.
Weaving my way through the crowd, I go to stand beside my guardians as we wait for the Peacekeepers to sort us into groups. It's not because I want to. I've never liked them. For a long time, I even hated them for trying to replace my parents. Now, I just avoid them and don't feel anything much. Except maybe hurt because they refuse to understand my pain. They stopped trying to be my parents after nearly two years of struggling. From fourteen years to sixteen, they wouldn't get it, refused to give up.
Until I blew up at them for it and took off. They didn't see me for almost a month. When I finally decided to come back, they had finally accepted the fact that I would never want them to be in my life. That I was stuck in the past, wishing for people who were long gone.
Well, watching your parents die when you're nine does that.
Some small part of me still wishes that they would keep trying. That they would break through the walls I can't seem to lower. I crave love and warmth. I need connections. But the walls keep anyone from connecting to me, and I don't know how to lower them to let others in.
A hand touches my shoulder, and I jump, tensing.
"Azrael? Come on... It's our turn." Eli tugs on my arm.
He's the youngest of the family, and he turned fifteen last week.
I shake him off and walk forward. They jab a needle into my finger to draw blood and put information down before directing me to the group furthest away from us. Since I'm eighteen, I'll be free from this all once this Reaping ends.
I remember all of this. I remember watching with my parents as anyone who was twelve or older went to these stations. It was the last thing I remember doing with them before they died. That night, when the Reaping was over and everyone was mostly in bed, my parents took me out to see the stars.
My hands slam against the brick wall as I lean there, trying to stave off the memories. My eyes squeeze shut. I can't do this right now. Crying isn't an option currently, and I don't want to remember this. It always makes me cry.
A couple of the guys look at me in concern.
My cousin from my adoptive family taps me on the shoulder. He's the only one who still hasn't given up. Tav is one of the nicest guys I know. I'm not harsh with him... He's just too good to me, and for some reason, I can't bear to shut him out. We're not friends or anything even close, but I don't dislike him like I do the rest of his family.
"Azrael? You good?"
I shake my head and breathe through my mouth.
He knows it's not a good time for me. Every year this happens. Really, only the newer people to the group are unaware of my panic attacks. The ones who've been with me in the years leading up to this day know that the Reaping causes this. I'm quiet about it, but they know. It's hard to miss the pity and concern. Thankfully, none of them know why I'm panicking.
Except Tav. I told him the truth one night after the Reaping when he came to find out what was the matter with me. It was after I'd disappeared for a month. I probably scared him for life, but at the time, I just needed to spill. Holding something like that inside for years and years isn't good for a person's mental health. Certainly isn't good for mine.
He also knows that I killed the woman who killed them. If my story about my parents' deaths wasn't rattling enough, that was. He went as white as a sheet when I told him.
I drop to the ground and rest my back against the brick wall.
Tav sits down beside me. "Take a deep breath. You don't want to have another one this year, do you?"
I swallow hard and shake my head. Of course I don't.
He nods. "Didn't think so. Focus on something else. Anything else." He looks around and points out the woman coming onto stage. "See, there! Look at that wild hairstyle. That one's certainly a doozy."
I laugh weakly. He's right.
The woman practically has an afro, but she's died her hair a fake, Barbie doll blond and scattered butterflies throughout her curly hair. It looks like the butterflies decided to make a nest in her hair.
Then, added to that is the dress. It's made of dozens of sequined butterflies, and as the sunlight streaming through the windows shines on her, it sears my eyeballs. I cover my eyes. "Argh!" I squint, trying to see what's going on.
Tav has effectively distracted me.
I suppose it helps that butterfly lady is blinding me. Duh. Of course it would distract me from my thoughts. Sudden flares of light tend to do that.
We stand up to get a better look over the crowd of people. The podium is raised, so everyone can see even if someone taller is in front of them. There's probably at least fifteen steps leading up to the thing. Imagine climbing them while scared half to death. Not that anyone here would be. Most of them have been training their entire lives for a chance at this and enter their names on purpose just because they want to win. Idiots.
See, that's what I hate about the "Career" districts. Everyone acts like killing is fun. It's not. The guilt you feel afterwards is crushing. Unless you don't have a conscience. In which case, it probably isn't, and then it would make sense that they want to kill people. Well, maybe not. But I think it explains all the bloodthirsty people in districts 1 through 4. They're all insane and lack a conscience. For the most part, anyway.
The woman in the sequin dress, which really should have a warning label reading hazardous, walks to the center of the platform and stands at the lectern, which takes up most of the small podium.
Two bowls stand on columns on either side of the lectern.
Clearing her throat, she stands behind the lectern and smiles at us. After adjusting the mic, she begins talking. "Hello everyone! It's such a lovely day for this, isn't it? I'm sure you all can't wait to find out who will be this year's tributes, so let's find out!"
She is way too cheerful for this. Doesn't she understand that she's deciding who will be sent to become a murderer and die?
"For the girls, we have..." She fishes around in the bowl that brims with tiny slips of death. "Cara Everest!"
Someone pushes a girl forward. She's looking like she can't believe it as she hugs her little brother and climbs the stairs with a jaunty wave. Great. Another Career wannabe. But knowing our district, she's no wannabe. She is a Career. Unless she's like me. But with the way she's smiling and waving exultantly at the crowd, I highly doubt it.
Shockingly, no one volunteers. I guess they know how long she's been waiting for this and don't want to take it away from her.
The woman holds Everest's hand up in the air with a grin. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present Cara Everest, this year's District 1 Female." She lets the crowd cheer and clap for a few moments before she goes to the other glass bowl.
My heart thuds wildly in my chest. Will I be able to leave here today and continue on my path of avoidance, or will I be forced into a place where I will become a monster?
The woman has a penchant for drama. She swirls her hand around among the paper slips with a fake, red-glossed smile. I want to scream at her to hurry up. To end our torment and just draw the name already. I can't hold back the memories this place invokes much longer, and I need to be together just in case I'm called.
I don't have more than eighteen slips in there like most other people here today do. My chances are slim. But they are there, and I'm not an optimist. I'm a realist. I'm not panicking about because I know it's not likely. At the same time, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I could easily be picked. Eighteen slips is eighteen no matter what. And they're in that bowl.
Finally, the woman chooses a paper. "And our male tribute will be Azrael Thanatos."
The words barely die on her tongue when the rage springs into me. I should run or kill myself. I've got my knife hidden away on my person. I could just slit my throat or wrists, and they wouldn't be able to save me. I would die with honor and without becoming the brutal killer I fear most.
I don't though. A part of me yearns for the chance that they're giving me. I want to be given a chance to let out the monster I've kept hidden and leashed all these years. I need to experience the feelings I felt on the night I stabbed my parents' killer and watched the life ebb out of her. The rush of adrenaline and ecstasy. The pure, unadulterated feeling of satisfaction and savagery.
My feet take me towards the podium even though my mind is in a different place. I mount the stairs on her left and stand away from Everest.
The announcer lifts both our hands up again and the crowd goes wild. "Give it up for District 1's tributes."
And with those simple words, the anger surges. I hate them. I hate them for cheering about this when I could die in that arena. I hate them for not volunteering. But more than anything else, I hate myself. There is no room for fear or grief. I have nothing to leave behind anyway. The anger burns hot in my stomach, destroying everything else.
The Peacekeepers lead us away, and as I look back at the crowd beneath us, my parents' pale faces hover before me. Their tears and sadness the night of their death now seems tenfold as I will be going into a place they hated more than anything else. With those last words from the announcer, my death has been sealed. Perhaps I won't die physically, but something of me will die in that arena. My humanity, for one. And probably my sanity. Boy, this should be fun. Whoever thought of this whole sadistic game should be shot. And I want to be doing the shooting.
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