The Easiest Choice Is When Thereâs No Choice At All || Reaping
It would be crazy, to volunteer for death on the off chance of finding my mother in the Capitol, but what other option did I have? Â She was alive and I was almost positive that she was being held prisoner in the Capitol. How else could I get to her? But if I did, what could I even do?
Shaking my head, I pushed my glasses up higher on my nose and peered through the dark cellar of the bakery. It had become a place of peace for me in the last few years, the smell of fresh rising dough and the quiet helped calm me. Moreover, it reminded me of before the war, when I would help my mother close up the bakery before heading home.
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair, getting up from where I was hiding and moving over to the sole window, where a few streams of moonlight were filtering in. It had been a long time since I had been little enough to slip through the small opening with easy, but with enough twisting, I could still make it out.
The thought of going home now was crushing, though, and instead I settled on an old sack of flour, leaning back and trying to mull over my options. The warm summer night and soothing scents calmed me, and it wasnât long before I slipped into a restless sleep.
âDown here again?â My eyes shot open as I was jerked to my feet by the owner of the bakery and I felt a pang in my chest. Widow Thatch had once been like a grandmother to me, letting me hang around the bakery when I was young while my mother worked. But her opinion of me had changed significantly, especially since my fatherâs intel had likely been the cause of her sons deaths during the war. âCome on, boy, get out of here.â She said gruffly, giving me a slight shove towards the door. Without looking back, I sprinted up the stairs and was out the door and down the street within moments, only to be suddenly stopped by a wall of white. I groaned as I landed on my back hard, but before I could understand what was happening, I was being hoisted to my feet by two peacekeepers. âWhat are you doing out here? Curfew is still in effect for another hour, except for designated personnel.â âI was delivering something to Widow Thatch.â I said, spitting out the first thing that came to mind. âI had to get it to her before she started the loaves for today.â I couldnât tell what they were thinking, but their grips on my arms loosened slightly and I took that moment to slip from their grip and sprinted away. It hadnât been the first time Iâd broken curfew and I knew I was getting close to being shackled down in the middle of the square as punishment, but it was clear these peacekeepers were only here for the reaping, do I took my chances and ran for it. Weaving through the familiar alleyways, I made ducked into a doorway, listening as their footsteps rand past. I waited another minute or some before glancing out, checking that the coast was clear, before sprinting home. I wasnât surprised to find my father awake and already dressed in his best suit. As assistant to the mayor, he had to at least look like he supported the Hunger Games. I could see the bags under his eyes, though, and the slump in his shoulders that reminded me that he didnât truly support the Capitol or its beliefs. It want enough, though. The house was silent as I dressed myself, my mind tugging back and forth over the decision I was going to have to make, giving myself reasons and buy outs for both sides. If it was someone I was friends with or someone I had once been close to Iâd volunteer, if it was someone who ignored me or a Capitol supporters child I wouldnât. Or maybe if the escort seemed nice I would. Or if the girl who was reaped seemed friendly. The list got longer and longer, full of ifs and buts, though I knew that the list didnât matter. I owed it to my mother to find her there. To save her from her captives and to show her I knew she was alive. Giving a nod to steel my resolve, I adjusted my glasses and followed my father out the door. The block we lived on now was entirely occupied by loyalists, and I could see the fear and apprehension in their eyes as they shuffled their kids down the street. If they had know this was coming, would they have changed their minds? Fought harder? And the children, many of who I recognized who had also been rebuffed from society, quakes in their new new shoes and dresses and suits. The square was boxes in by peacekeepers and my father gave me a stiff hug before walking over to where the rest of the adults were being herded. My heart pounded in my chest as the reality of what I was about to do hit me. If I volunteered, I would be surely going to my death. I was thin and nearly blind and hardly any competition. I needed to think this through more clearly. If I bulked up, Iâd have a chance, but in this shape? My train of thought was interrupted by a burst of pain from the pinprick and I felt tears well up. If I couldnât take a pinprick, would I even make it long enough to get a look around the Capitol? The fear in the crowd was palpable, though I couldnât tell if it was worse than the year before. Last year, none of us knew what was coming, but this year, we all knew. Did that make it better or worse? As the escort stepped up to the podium, I knew for sure it was worse. The opening ceremonies hadnât changed at all, though, and I found myself zoning out as I went back to my list. Not volunteering would allow me to prepare better, maybe Iâd make it out alive. But what if my motherâs time was limited. It has already been two years. What if they were hurting her? What if she couldnât hold on much longer. But what good could I do going home in a body bag too? It made no sense to volunteer if- My thoughts were cut off my the sound of a struggle at the edge of the crowd. A young man fighting peacekeepers and yelling. My head turned and I saw a girl on stage. Had it already begun? But I hadnât decided! What was I going to- âMilo Keaton!â I felt the blood rush from my face as I heard my name get called. Suddenly the crowd around me parted and I felt my feet move under me. Two peacekeepers flanked me as I was escorted to the stage, the bright lights creating a painful glare on my glasses. Pushing them up on the bridge of my nose, I searched for my father in the crowd, but I couldnât make out any of the faces beyond the crowd of kids.
