Chapter Text
It was a bad day in District 12. The sun was setting already, and the ground was dry. The dust cloud formed from the deserted land dimmed the dusk. A boy was coming back from the jungle. His light, nimble body moved swiftly, merrily; there was a kind of crisp vividness in his expression as if he had just come down from heaven. He had dark brown eyes that shone like the beautiful black gems you would find in some ancient Asian kingdom's palaces. He ought to be a prince but not this little grumpy hunter in District 12. He walked in elegance even when in a hurry. His neck was straight; he was tall and had long limbs. His skin was tanned from the unshielded sun. He ran like a deer, innocent as he was, as if he had never aged since he was five.
But he wasn't happy at all. He was just used to owning the vibrant air around him. When he got sad and worried, he would open up even more. The sun went down quickly, and the sky was already in a pinkish color, ready to let darkness engulf everything. Yet the light in his pupils was still shining like a pair of diamonds. Yes, that's where the mystery lay -- in the pure darkness of his eyes lived what seemed to be a boundless mist, absorbing all spectrums of colors. It was a bottomless water that had given birth to all forms of life. All living beings would be attracted to this pair of eyes. Forest creatures, kids, and artists, had they been fortunate enough to meet him, would be eager to be near him as if he would comfort them all. Hence, the name -- Eddy -- was well-suited for his character. In the daytime, what we saw in this doomed forest was this kid running like a stream that never ceased to flow and sing.
But his world was no beautiful forest or clear waters, and what he did was actually quite the opposite. I am prone to believe that he was forced to settle in the most vulgar and filthy place on earth with his bright heart. However, no one really knew how this world could mold a man and how the change of environment could destroy past beliefs. Now, Eddy was dragging a dead deer back home. His clothes had clear traces of manufacturing -- some old fashion that had gone extinct for at least ten years, only to be found in the black market of District 12. The only perfect thing on his body, besides his eyes, was the bow and a small bucket of short arrows settled on his back. Those wooden arrows with humble feathered tails were clearly in great maintenance by their master.
As the dusk faded, Eddy stopped in front of the shattered wooden gate of a small yard. A row of cottages lay on the far side of the garden. He jumped in and pushed open the wooden door of the first one, with a tilted roof...
"Hey!"
Eddie was instantly greeted by a wind of smoke and the warm smell of oil and spice. A female voice came from behind the smoke.
"Done with work, hey?"
Eddy shut the door behind him and entered the kitchen. The woman cooking eyed the dead deer in his hands.
"Yeah. " Eddy responded, "Was real lucky." Taking off his gears.
He lived in a communal room. It was the only place that he had called home since turning 14. Eddy reluctantly hung his coat on the crowded hanger, passed the deer to others, and headed straight to his space.
The clean bed and yellowish walls were a little bit worn out, which made it feel softer, warmer, and familiar -- calming, almost. The smell of dust from the open window welcomed him. The smoke has been gaining power day after day. Eddy looked out of the window at the pure darkness from the lack of electricity. He sensed a slight scent of spring mingled with dust. Every spring is a windy season. And here in District 12 it would form a sandstorm -- a messenger for the start of the lottery.
Sitting on his bed, he felt extremely cold and lonely. During the half hour before dinner, he would stay in his room with nothing to do. And, of course, that's when the memories slowly seeped in. The smile of his sister, the touch of his mother, the beautiful classrooms decorated with drawings, stickers, and painted posters. That was his old life. Eddie was born and raised in District 7. Like every kid of the middle districts, he had standard education, a loving family, and childhood friends. But the protest on his 14th birthday changed everything. His sister, along with his parents, were separated in the failed rebellion and never to be seen. It was a month before the draw, but of a same sandy weather. He was taken by his mother in the main group while Belle and their father led the protestors that would pass the government building. Shooting took place just after the leader’s speech, and the cart carrying his sister was immediately surrounded by the defense and covered by smoke and fire. He was stunned at the unleashing gunfire and the panicking main crowd, and was knocked down and blanked out not much longer after he lost sight of mother. Thousands of people were arrested and hundreds of families destroyed from this event. Lost in coma, Eddie was exiled and sent to a random refugee shelter in District 12 alone.
And outcasts were outcasts. He was not welcomed in the local school nor the community at his age. Thankfully, the old chef Judy, exiled from District 2, offered to teach him reading and writing. The noble lady never messed with politics within the shelter, being tired of it already. She did not speak much and spent most of her time beyond cooking playing with her harmonica. Eddy was glad to help her out, being the silent hunter and the nerdy weirdo.
He was the eldest of all abandoned orphans, but not old enough to take care of and lead the mob of 10, 11 year old kids, most of them coming from a better place than his old home. As the only one from the middle districts, everyone looked down on his family. The first week when he moved in and ate with the rest of the refugee group, a boy teased him, calling him the blemish on the great revolution – as the higher districts called it. For them, the mids were in no way related to the mission. They just enjoy getting themselves killed without honor or dignity. They were mobs and only wanted money. And they should die nameless. They were not worthy of rebellion.
At that time, the only way he learned about the rebellion was through his sister, Belle. She was the only one who was willing to let out info about the organization.
"We do it because we want to save kids from meaningless deaths."
She was 16. She played piano. Once, she played as an accompanist in a music competition finals. Spotting Eddy watching her on replay, she pointed the violin soloist to him,
“Do you know that kid? He is the youngest champion, a prodigy. I think he’s about your age. And he is doomed for the draw that could take the most beautiful sound on earth away, for no reason! And if he had escaped that, he would have to be taken to the capitol and play for them in velvet cages for the rest of his life.”
Eddy nodded, completely drawn into the performance —the swift motion of the hands, the smooth, warm melody glimmered in his imagination.
“I wish I could play like him.”
He murmured.
Belle smiled at her brother,
“You do play well.”
They both knew that life would not allow a career like that, but neither had they expected it to end so soon.
No. He would not let them taint the name and faith of his sister—the bravest and kindest person he’d known on earth. He soon ceased trying to enter the group and make friends. When they laughed at him at the dinner table, his heart would wrinkle and squeeze into a small ball. What would Belle say to them? He would often think. The obscure figure standing on the roof of cars in flames was a scene he would never forget. He was not to be trapped here forever. The draw was near. And I may prove myself to you. He thought.