**WARNING BEFORE YOU START READING!! THERE IS DEATH AND VIOLENCE IN THIS CHAPTER**
"Tribute?" I gasp, my father stepping in front of me as if to shield me from the public official.
"He will not go as Tribute, he's not old enough." My father glares at the official. I haven't seen my father this 'angry' since it was my mother who was tribute. Many people had to hold him back as they took her away.
I was 10 when it happened, apparently i am meant to feel sad for her. and now i need to feel sad for myself? i dont understand.
I know that my father had attempted to teach me emotions, but of course he failed. Apparently I am just like my mother "an Emotionally devoid doll" . I don't think he means it in a bad sense, he did love my mother after all.
But now that I'm 13, I should follow the Government official, right? then I'll know the truth, why me and my mother got picked.
I watched my father slam the door in the face of the official."you aren't going to leave me, not like your mother." He mentions quietly as he hugs me, sobbing into my shoulder.
I patted him on the back and rubbed it in circles as I was taught, this comforted him it seems, and he slowly stopped sobbing after about 3 minutes.
He stands up, the visage of a man crying is no more "I will ban this... this ritual, i will make sure that you do not need to become the tribute." I stare at him as he declares, full of confidence.
5 days after that declaration, I am getting dragged out of my home as i was preparing dinner. My hair, getting pulled by the baker, who I used to know as a 'kind person' , his face now quite ugly with rage as I struggle against him.
"It hurts! Let go! I said let go!" I yell my voice falling on deaf ears. people of whom i knew their stares peirce me as I kick and scream a variation of "Let go!" And "You're hurting me!"
The 'kind' elderly Baker throws me on the ground, a watery substance now coating my face, hands, and some of my clothes. I touch my face, curious as to what this wet substance is, water perhaps?
This smell is familiar. like the smell of the carcass of a squirrel hunted by my father. how odd, the smell is more pungent though. Why would it be pungent?
Did this meat stay out for a long time? Curious, I push up on my elbows, the blood from the carcass dripping down to my palm, I look at the people surrounding me. They are the 'kind' people who took care of me when my father couldn't, they are now glaring at me.
Why are they glaring?
I look behind me, at where the bloody substance came from. It looks like an animal carcass, but quite a bit larger. Is it a moose?
What does a moose look like? I will ask my father when he gets back, he loves to talk about hunting.
I hear whispering, and then a rock is thrown at me. I look toward where I think it was thrown from.
A child, he flinches when we make eye contact. A boy, perhaps 6 years old. Who is he? Why have I never seen him before? Come to think of it, why have I not seen other children? ever?
Then another child throws a rock at me, this time a girl. the adults don't say anything against these children.
She then starts to cry, out of anger? "why didn't you go? why didn't you become tribute?" she screams at me" If-If only you did!" She throws another rock at me. "my father wouldn't have died!"
Her aim was good, she hit me in the temple, a dribble of blood now going into my eye, as I stared unmoving. confused at why her fathers death is my fault
Then a government official, the same one that had a door shut in his face, steps before me, dropping what was in their hand.
I watch it drop. it rolls slightly, like an uneven ball. I picked it up. The hair on this is, "familiar" I comment. The same brown that my father had, but this brown had dried blood in it, it couldn't be his.
My father isn't this small, but I can't help feeling something? perhaps the feeling of familiarity?
I turn this uneven, bloody, hairy, ball over.
Eyes open, nose bloody, mouth chapped cracked, and a scar. A burn scar, a very, very familiar burn scar, and familiar brown eyes.
"This?" I look up at the official.
"Yes, it's your father." He says coldly.
"This is my father?" I question, looking back at the head. "Where's the rest of him?"
One of the bystanders cuts in and screams at me "He's hanging on the wall, like the rest of the traitors!" they say.
"Traitor? how?" I question, confused.
"Because of you!" A woman screams at me. As she lunges towards me her hands gripping round my throat.
"Off of me!" I scratch her and claw into her skin attempting to get her hands off me, as I feel myself get lightheaded. "Help me!" I look at anyone in the crowd, they are all staring at me in disgust.
The government official stared very, very coldly, with no emotion on his face, but there was a slight smile. That only I could see.
Tears begin to flow from my eyes, I look at the woman who is choking me. Her face is disgusting from this angle. I claw at her face in an attempt to stop her.
My attempts were futile. I feel myself slipping. As I Watch her, my eyes getting blurry, I hear the maniacal laughter of the woman choking me.
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That's it! ♪(´ε｀*)