Final Reality (THG Fanfic)

Chapter II

My grandmother was buried next to my brother, under an old elm tree in the nearby cemetery, just a few blocks from our residence. Both of their gravestones are covered with a blanket of vines, with a spider's web the only thing connecting them. After what happened a week ago, I was going to ask Fletch to tag along, but our father wanted to have a talk with him, so instead I brought along Katri. She needed the fresh air anyway. She's been cooped up in her little room so long, only coming out when there was school or work, I had the feeling mould was getting into her lemon hair.

Katri's sister is buried a few graves away, a fresh bunch of wildflowers placed on it. The ones I stand before only have withered daisies spread across. I didn't bring any new flowers today; I don’t usually do anyway due to my mother being the responsible one for that. Flowers are just not my thing, singing is. And even though I’m here with Katri – the only other person who has ever heard me sing – I don’t feel confident enough to let a soft mountain air leave my lips. I sit myself down in front of the two graves, hugging my knees. “I wonder why I’m not surprised this is happening to us,” I say to no one in particular.

"Well, that’s no way to speak in a situation like this,” Katri says dryly.

I allow myself a giggle, “But it’s the truth, isn’t it? Besides, I’m not sure what to do. Talk?”

“That’s what I should be doing,” I hear her voice fade away as she walks towards her sister’s gravestone. “But I think you should sing!” she hollers back.

I smirk at the thought, leaning my head on my knees. Singing seems so ridiculous without my mother by my side, singing along. She always started the songs for me; her soft voice always gave me support. Starting all by myself just gives me the feeling of breaking the law. “But I guess some roads I have to walk alone, right?” I say aloud. I take a deep breath. "I suppose this is how you probably felt when you knew you had a pretty good chance of being reaped? You were my age, put into the arena with people younger than you, just children like yourself. People younger than you who would become your potential victim, killer or ally. You tried to help some of them though, but I guess that’s what brought you here. You were so selfless." I smile to myself. As I lift my head to catch sight of the swaying branches of the elm tree, I notice my vision is obscured with salty tears.

"I wish you were here right now,” I face the gravestone with my brother’s name printed on it. “Here to hug me, here to save me. Here to lie to me, telling me everything will be okay. Here to hear me sing.” I shove my face into my arms and quietly sob, while I silently sing to the gravestone. The tears stop when I hear the whistle for the Reaping. It's time.

"Hey, I'm gonna go ahead," Katri calls out, her voice a little uneasy, "Make it quick, or the peacekeepers will drag you to the Square." The dissipating sound of crunching of leaves suggests Roxy is leaving, even though I would like her very much to stay.

So instead I stay here with JD and my Nan just a little bit longer, singing to them in my head, thinking of our times we spent together. Swimming in the lake. Playing in the snow. Drinking tea. Sleeping in a shared room. Napping by the hearth in Nan’s house. By the time someone viciously shakes me from my reminiscences, the tears are long gone.

"You know, if you don't get a move on, you're going to have to face the consequences," someone bellows behind me.

Fear freezes me in place. "You're not a peacekeeper, are you?" I question, hoping the guy behind isn’t armoured in a white uniform.

He smirks, "If I were, I'd be a disgrace. Now come on! I don't wanna be the only late person there." I let him help me stand, and it’s then do I finally see who the boy is, not so unfamiliar to my eyes. He’s far taller than me, and handsome with brown, shaggy hair, and also anonymous. I’ve seen him around school, but we have never exchanged words, much less shared the same class. I let him lead me away from the elm tree, only to be paused at yet another grave.