Everyone always insults District Two saying how easy we have it. Yet they don't know what we go through on a daily basis. Sure, we aren't living in our waste. Sure, we aren't all dying of starvation. Everyone sees us as the bratty pricks whose parents raise us to be killers. They think we don't care for anyone but ourselves.
I'd love for one of those poor children from the outer districts to try and live one day in my shoes. They wouldn't make it.Physically, emotionally, mentally, they couldn't take it. They think we all live in nice houses where our mothers make us breakfast each morning before we head off to train. Not one bit of that is true.
I wake up each morning to the sound of my mother and father screaming at each other, the children screaming in the background. Everyday I quickly put my long black hair into a pony tail before grabbing my knives. Since I live in the attic, I climb out my small window onto the roof. From there I slide down until I reach the big oak tree whose leaves cover the hole in the roof. I grab onto the big branch and swing until I am able to pull myself up. When I gain my balance, I walk to the trunk and sit down. I listen to the birds chirp, watch the Peacekeepers make their rounds, wait.
By the time I wake up, it is only around 4 A.M. No one is up other than the drunks and the occasional Career. I live in the Industrial Area of District Two. It used to be a busy place with many families. Now, since all the factories are run by machines, the houses have been boarded up and tumbleweeds flood the streets. There are only six houses occupied on my street. All by drunks who are far past their time.
The Industrial Area is used for one thing now. It is a place you come to die. Behind the factories are long alleyways. The Careers go nighthunting there. I've done it before. I do it when I loose my temper and have no one to take it out on. My brother used to get me so angry we would fight. Eventually I became to dangerous and slit his wrists open. He nearly bled to death. Every since then I was stuck in the attic to avoid hurting anyone else. It doesn't make sense. My parents still put me through training in hopes I win the Hunger Games. They are just making me more dangerous.
As the sun begins to peak over the mountains, I lay my head against the trunk of the big oak tree. I begin to drift off when I heard one patter. I quickly looked down to make sure a Peacekeeper wasn't there about to take me for being up before dawn. Instead, I saw nothing. I shrug and lay my head against the trunk again. It wasn't long until I feel the branch going out from underneath me. I quickly try to hold on, but by then I'm already flying in the air.
When I land, I don't hit the ground. I hit Cato's strong chest. "Was that really necessary? You know good morning works too." I rolled my eyes and squirmed out of his tight hold.
"Were you dreaming about me again?" He smirked, his voice raspy. You could tell he had just woken up.
"No, I'm not like the other pathetic girls in this place. What are you doing here so early?" Cato and I get breakfast every morning before going to the Training Center. We usually meet up around 5:30. Cato lives with his mom just outside the Industrial Area. We share a lot of the same issues with our family. We first bonded over it four years ago when I cut the top of his eye open, leaving a scar that is still there.
"It's five. I was hungry and I figured you'd be up." He starts walking toward the alley behind my house. "Plus, I got in a fight with my mom. Didn't want to go off again." He pauses. His long legs have carried him far from where I was standing. I run to catch up to him. Once I do he starts talking again."Says I need to get married or go into the games. Those are my only options. She's such a bitch."
Cato doesn't complain to anyone but me. He doesn't want to appear weak in anyway. He knows I feel the same way so he figures he can trusts me. Cato has lots of admirers. He's tall and handsome, with blonde hair and shining blue eyes. He's strong and cocky and courageous. People are drawn to him. Me, on the other hand. I'm deemed as the District's bitch. No one likes me, but they are to scared to say it. I know Cato likes me though. He would be the only one not scared to say it.
"I know. I heard my parents talking about marrying me off to some rich guy. They said I'd probably end up killing him and take his fortune."
That's the way it is in Two. You train till you're lethal or go to school. After you're 18,you get married. Men can either be tradesmen, Peacekeepers, or Capital workers who do manual labor and women stay at home with the family or work behind the scenes in the business's. There are not many other choices. Most of the marriages are arranged if you don't have the one set up by 18. Since my family is poor, I'll most likely be sold to some raunchy old man who has money.
"There aren't many people who could put up with you,Butters." Cato chuckled. Cato always called me Butters. I'm not sure why. It's either because I am in love with butter, or I butt heads with just about everyone.
"Cato, they're aren't any." I sighed.
"But I'm here, aren't I?"