Capitol Pawns

The sun sits low in the morning sky as the dew begins to settle in. I snuggle closer to the trunk of the tree and feel the comfort the rough bark brings. The birds chirp happily and the squirrels scamper across the forest floor. I’m in my own little world and happiness floods my body with warmth. For the first time in days, I have no worries in the world.

A snapping branch catches my attention and snaps me back to reality. I crane my neck to look for the culprit, but don’t find anything unusual, so I return to my daydreaming, but a few minutes later I hear it again.

I sit up slightly and stare in the direction I think the noise is coming from. When the noise continues at a higher frequency, I perch myself on my toes close to the trunk to ready myself.

My heart beats a thousand times a minute it seems, but I keep my composure. My eyes are fixed on the culprit’s branch, ready for attack, but I’m taken aback when I see who it is. It’s the blonde boy from District 4. The one from the 48th Games. The one that slit my aunt’s throat.

The glint in his sea green eyes catches me off guard and I lose my footing, tumbling off my branch. I grab for anything on the way down, but only manage to smack my arm harshly on a branch about 10 feet above the ground and land on my leg. I hear a loud crack as a jeering pain shoots through my leg.

A quick glance down shows my worst nightmare: a bone. I peel myself off the ground, regretting it as the searing pain from the impact with the branch kicks in. It’s already bruising.

I do my best to hobble away quickly, but progress is slow and painful. When I look behind my shoulder, the boy is on my tail. He’s not running yet, but he has a sick and sadistic look in his eyes. He’s taunting me.

Run, Scout. Run!

My body shoots straight up as I wake up in a cold sweat.

It was just a dream, Scout. I tell myself. It’s okay. You’re okay.

My heart is pounding in my chest, so hard I can almost hear it. I try and calm myself down, but my breath refuses to slow. The adrenaline refuses to die down.

I sigh and close my eyes, try and put myself back home in my woods, my trees, but it’s too far gone. I can’t feel the bark or the cool morning breeze. The rustling of the leaves seems nonexistent. I can’t feel dad’s calloused hands, can’t smell the soap mama used to wash her hair, hear Cadence’s singing, Callum’s encouraging words, Bug’s laughter.

It seems so far gone, just another piece of history like we learn in school. I know it’s real, I just can’t imagine it anymore. I can’t touch it.

Sleep is unrealistic at this point, and even though the sun isn’t up yet, I know I am for the day. Once I’ve decided this, I reluctantly peel myself out of bed and wander out into the living area. The lights are off and the shadows from the windows cast eerie shadows on the walls.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

I jump at the sounds of Johanna’s voice from the couch.

My hand is on my chest and my heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest. I’m surprised I haven’t had a heart attack yet.

“No,” I answer honestly. “I had a nightmare.”

She laughs, returning to the Johanna I first met on the train.

“Go ahead, Johanna,” I say. “Tell me I was wrong and you were right.”

My eyes are adjusting quickly to the light of the living room and I can see her get up and walk over to where I stand.

“No, Scout. I don’t want to tell you that because you know it’s true. I told you it would affect you like this and it just shows how weak you are.”

Just when I thought we were becoming close. When we were building trust and tearing down our fronts.

“I’m not weak,” I growl. “What do I have to do to prove that to you?”

“Anything,” She answers. “Anything that will prove you’re not just a little girl. Wow me, Scout. Show me anything.”

Fine. If that’s what she wants, then I’ll show her.