Chapter 7

                                    

                                          
What? 
                          
He has to be joking. He has to be. I knew it! He is insane. 
                          
District 13 does not exist. All that's left is a pile of smouldering ruins. The once thriving district is completely obliterated. The Capitol destroyed it during the Dark Days as punishment for the districts. As punishment for what they started. No survivors are left. 
                          
"You're crazy," I tell Sarrel.
                          
"I'm not crazy. You're closed-minded."
                          
"No. District 13 does not exist. It did 11 years ago but not anymore."
                          
"Who told you that?"
                          
"Well school of course! We learnt about the Dark Days." I hesitate. "Do they teach you something different in 9?"
                          
"Nope. They taught us the same thing as you."
                          
War terrible war. Widows orphans, a motherless child. This was the uprising that rocked our land. 13 districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Brother turned on brother until nothing remained. And then came the peace. Heartfought, solely won. The people rose up from the ashes, and a new era was born. But freedom has a cost. And the traitors were defeated. We swore as a nation, we would never know this treason again. And so it was decreed, that each year the various districts of Panem would offer up in tribute, one young man and women, to fight to the death, in a pageant of honour, courage, and sacrifice. The lone victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity, and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future.
                          

This was the Capitol propaganda played again and again at each year's reaping. I know it off by heart after hearing it so many times. So does Sarrel.
                          
"Where did you get your information from? asks Sarrel. 
                          
"Which one?" I'm getting confused now.
                          
"District 13 and the propaganda."
                          
"Uhhh school and the reaping." 
                          
"Yes and where does that originate?" Sarrel is looking at me intently like he wants me to understand something major.
                          
And then I do. "The Capitol. All of its from the Capitol."
                          
"Exactly" he says smugly. "Lies, lies and more lies. They do like brainwashing us. To them we're puppets."
                          
"We're just another piece in their Games," I say quietly. 
                          
Sarrel looks at me with a pitiful expression on his face. I hate it.
                          
"Your singing really is beautiful."
                          
"Thank you." Why has this conversation changed so quickly?
                          
"You know, when you sing, even the mockingjays stop to listen."
                          
I don't know how to respond. It's a lovely compliment but I can't think of anyone in that way. Not yet. First I have to forget about Coriolanus. "Well I've had a lot of practice," I say with a smile. "It's what I did back in 12. I was in a band and we called it the Covey. They were like my family. I was lead singer and performing was how we made money."
                          
"I'd love to hear you guys."
                          
"Yeah well too late." Harsh I know. But I have to let him know somehow. I'm not interested.