Deceived: The 500th Annual Hunger Games

Chapter 21 - District 10 Reapings

FRIARY ETHERDONE'S P.O.V

I sat with my twin sister Rupilia. It's our first year we are eligible for reaping.

"Girls," Mrs Potts yelled. "Breakfast."

I sighed. I hate life here.

My mum was a victim of the games. She gave birth to us when she was 18-years-old, and them became a tribute a week later.

If we were born a week later, we would be 12-years-old today.

"Friary, c'mon," Rupilia whined, dragging me off of the bed.

She was only trying to protect me. If we didn't go down now, we'd be tortured. I swear it's illegal to beat someone up for being 30 seconds late for breakfast.

We sat at the table, slowly munching on the slimy mush Mrs Potts calls 'porridge.' It's just gloop. I feel sick, but if you don't eat it, you get whipped.

"I hope to get rid of some of you today," Mrs Potts cackled evilly. "Less mouths to feed."

Whoever leaves is a lucky soul. No more porridge. No more whipping. You'll get more freedom than you ever get here.

"What happens if no one get's chosen?" I asked daringly. Rupilia looked scared for me.

"You'll all get whipped. So you better figure who's going to volunteer." Mr Potts came out of the kitchen and smacked a child over the head.

The boy screamed in pain. A 9-year-old boy named Dash. What had he done?

"Oi," a 16-year-old guy yelled. "That's my brother. Get your hands off of him!"

"Clam it Vamos, or you'll get a whipping of your lifetime," Mrs Potts threatened.

"Go and get changed for Reaping kids, or we'll beat you. Scram," Mr Potts spat. I ran to my room with Rupilia following.

"I've had enough. If I am not the last person reaped, I'm volunteering," Rupilia whispered.

"Same. I can't be here anymore. 6 more years?" I whispered back, "that's suicide."

"I miss mum so much," Rupilia said. She threw her pillow across the room at the door.

Mrs Potts stormed in with the whip. She smacked Rupilia across the face, causing her to double over. Mrs Potts lifted her arm, ready to lash at her back.

"No," I screamed. Rupilia jumped out of the way and the whip made contact with the floor. I jumped onto Mrs Potts, knocking the whip out of her hand. She screamed abuse at us.

Rupilia picked up the whip and lashed out at her. Twin power.

"This is what we suffer everyday," Rupilia screamed, the whip cracking as it made contact with her back.

Mr Potts stormed in. "What is going on?" He got his whip out. I threw a clothes hanger at him, hitting him in the face.

Rupilia picked up his whip and tossed it to me. He started to slowly back away as his wife took Rupilia's lashes.

"We suffer your pain everyday. Time to get a taste of your own medicine." I yelled, whipping across the chest. He screamed mercy, but we weren't done yet.

"What is happening?" Vamos ran into the room, Dash in his arms. Dash was still crying after being slapped. Vamos is pretty cool.

"Hey guys, do you want to help us torture our so called masters?" Rupilia laughed. Dash's face lit up as he kicked Mr Potts in the gut. Hard.

Vamos punched Mrs Potts in the face a bunch of times. By now, other orphans were coming into our bedroom, helping us to beat the couple.

The older ones knew where their other weapons were. They came in with clubs and bats, whacking the life out of them.
After a while, they were on the floor unconscious. We didn't have time to change. We all ran.

After half on hour of running and a bunch of complaining kids, we broke into a boarded up abandoned house. This will have to be our home from now on.

The older kids stayed with with the younger ones as everyone between 12 and 18-years-old ran to the town square, hoping to get reaped.

What have we done?


ASTONIA ELTWEED'S P.O.V

I saw the orphan kids run to the square. I feel sorry for them. Several kids had bruises or whip lashes on the skin that was visible. I wonder what their backs and stomachs look like.

I'm a richer kid of the District. My family owns dozens of acres of lands. We're rich enough to live in one of the houses in the streets by the Mayor's house.

Griffin Goldendod, the longest ever escort, started up his speech. He is 68 now, being an escort for 50 years. He was here when my mum and dad were eligible for reaping.

I used to giggle at his name, but once I turned 12, his name wasn't funny anymore.

"Now," he yelled down the microphone in his snobby Capitol accent. I may be posh, but Capitol accents are stupid. "Our first brilliant tribute is," he opened the paper slip. "Muscida Inchicape."

A timid looking 15-year-old edged out of the pen and up to the stage. She didn't say a word. She didn't need to. The look on her face said everything.

Hatred. Anger. Repulse. Disgust.

"Our next tribute is," he smiled. "Vamos Horne."

An orphan. He looked thrilled. The orphans here are always grateful when they are reaped. It's the easy way out.

"The next brave tribute is Stevia Picklewood!"

People started yelling. She's the most popular kid at school. 17-year-old girls started screaming and clinging to her. Peacekeepers had to pry her friends off of her pale body and escort her to the stage.

"Our next tribute is Duncain Mugort." Griffin laughed.

Duncain is my neighbour. His dad is the vicar of the church in our district. He disagrees strongly with war. He's the biggest pacifist I know.

"Now we have Nitya Flamsteed."

Nitya moved here recently from District 11 after her parents opened a very popular crop store. It is important for us here because we need the food to feed our animals.

"The next tribute is," Griffin looked at the 12-year-old pen. "Rupilia Etherdone."

"I volunteer," a girl next to her screamed. The two girls hugged. I'm guessing they're twins, they look exactly the same. They had the same blonde hair and green eyes and they both looks extremely strong for their age. Orphan kids?

The girl walked to the stage whilst Rupilia screamed at her to come back.

"What's your name?" Griffin asked.

"Friary Etherdone." Her tone was sharp and cold.

"Our next tribute is," he burst out laughing at the chances. "Rupilia Etherdone!"

This had to be rigged. Did they get tesserae? Her name would only be in there two times if that's the case. Friary started screaming as Rupilia was dragged to the stage. No one volunteered this time.

"The odds certainly aren't in their favour," Griffin chuckled. No one else laughed back.

"Tribute number 8 is," he chose a slip right at the bottom of the full up bowl. "Astonia Eltweed."

Me? It can't be!

Richer people of my district started screaming. I let myself be dragged to the stage. I can't be bothered of what the other tributes think of me.

A shot went off in the distance. There, in a bloody puddle, was my mum.

"Mum!" I screamed. "What have you done to her?" I picked up the microphone stand from the stage and charged towards the peacekeepers at the front of the barricaded area.

I smacked a peacekeeper over the head. "No, you monstrous bastards!"

The last thing I saw was my dad's body on the floor next to my mum's body. I felt something stab my arm. A needle. I slid to the floor silently.