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The 76th Hunger Games - Chapter 2
It's been a year since they came. A year since they murdered my grandfather and forced their own will on us. It's the day I've been dreading for months. It's the day the tributes are chosen for the Hunger Games. Only this time, it's not the Districts' children who are chosen.
My nightmares are interrupted by my mother shaking me. She usually calls my name to wake me, but I can tell from looking at her that she's not in a mood for talking. I get dressed and have what may be my last meal with my mother. Then we make our way to Capital Square, where I will be required to wait for my name to be called.
I've never seen so many people up so early. We wouldn't be able to penetrate the crowds if it wasn't for our official escorts, armed with guns, who demand they make way.
Before I know it, I'm standing only a few yards away from the stage set up on the Capital building steps. Large monitors on the nearby buildings come to life as Effie Trinket walks into view.
I hear her spea
The 76th Hunger Games
76th Hunger Games
It's been one year since the end of the war, one year since the Capital was overtaken and a new democracy was set in place. But for me, the war hasn't ended, and maybe it never will. I'm still waiting for a Capital hovercraft to appear in the sky and burn everything I have left to ashes. I know it will never happen, but the nightmares come all the same. Sometimes I still see my sister in her yellow braid, calling out my name just before she goes up in flames. She's gone. The rebel victory could do nothing to change that. I wish I could take her place now, like I did when she was chosen as a tribute for the Hunger Games.
Soon, the Capital will know what it's like. To have your children taken from you. To watch helplessly as they're transformed into killers to be murdered in the arena. At least this gives me some comfort, more than even Peeta could offer me.
Peeta hasn't talked to me in over a week now. He hasn't told me why, but he doesn't have to. A year ago, P
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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