( She's spent the last week hiding... )
Effie's last post remained fresh in her mind as she turned on the video recorder in the journal. Her hair was neatly braided in its custom side braid. The mockingjay pin pinned high on the chest of one of her nicer blouses, displayed where everyone could see it. She stared resolutely at the camera for a minute before she nodded.]
Today, back in my home of Panem, would have been the first time in seventy-six years that a reaping of contestants for the annual Hunger Games would not have occurred. As many of you know by now, every year, on this day, the names of two children from each district - a boy and a girl between the years of twelve to eighteen years of age - would be selected to fight to the death in an arena days later. The Hunger Games served as entertainment to those who lived in the Capitol. People like Effie Trinket who didn't know better. An honor to those in the richer Districts, the ones favored by the Capitol. For the rest of us, it was a punishment, a reminder of the cost that came with rising up against our government.
[She took a deep breath, lips pursed together for a quick second as she remembered. She spoke without thinking. Determined, she only realized later, to take the heat off of Effie for her suggestion of games here in Luceti. Her mockingjay wings twitched behind her. But once she started speaking again, the words tumbled out. She held her gaze steady, grey eyes showing all the emotion her stoic expression hid.]
Many of you were angry when Effie suggested the idea of gladiatorial-like games here in our prison. But Effie was only acting like everyone else here, trying to make the best out of a horrible situation. Looking for something that would make her feel more at home. Just like the rest of us. You have no right, no right at all, to judge her for that. You don't know our world. You don't know what it could be like.
The 75th Hunger Games, the Quarter Quell, were the last official games held by President Snow and the Gamemakers. But they weren't the last Hunger Games. Because after the second uprising ended, after we won, the surviving victors of previous Games met. There were only seven of us left. Me and Peeta. Our mentor, Haymitch. Johanna, Enobaria, Beetee, Annie. We were given a choice by President Coin - the new leader of Panem, the leader I executed in revenge for my sister's death. One last Hunger Games, this one played by twenty four children directly related to those who held the most power in Panem.
I think the way the vote fell was obvious. Peeta and Beetee and Annie voted no. The better of us. Johanna and Enobaria voted yes. And Haymitch and I? We had the last votes. But he's as unlikable, as bitter as I am. I suspected how he'd vote. And I voted to kill those Capitol children anyway.
I am not a good person. Maybe... maybe I thought I could change. Maybe I thought I could put all this behind me. The Captiol, the Hunger Games, Peeta... But girls like me don't deserve to be happy. They don't deserved to be liked. Or loved.
So do yourselves all a favor and think before you make a judgement about someone. Because as wrong as you are about Effie? You're just as wrong about me.
Effie's last post remained fresh in her mind as she turned on the video recorder in the journal. Her hair was neatly braided in its custom side braid. The mockingjay pin pinned high on the chest of one of her nicer blouses, displayed where everyone could see it. She stared resolutely at the camera for a minute before she nodded.]
Today, back in my home of Panem, would have been the first time in seventy-six years that a reaping of contestants for the annual Hunger Games would not have occurred. As many of you know by now, every year, on this day, the names of two children from each district - a boy and a girl between the years of twelve to eighteen years of age - would be selected to fight to the death in an arena days later. The Hunger Games served as entertainment to those who lived in the Capitol. People like Effie Trinket who didn't know better. An honor to those in the richer Districts, the ones favored by the Capitol. For the rest of us, it was a punishment, a reminder of the cost that came with rising up against our government.
[She took a deep breath, lips pursed together for a quick second as she remembered. She spoke without thinking. Determined, she only realized later, to take the heat off of Effie for her suggestion of games here in Luceti. Her mockingjay wings twitched behind her. But once she started speaking again, the words tumbled out. She held her gaze steady, grey eyes showing all the emotion her stoic expression hid.]
Many of you were angry when Effie suggested the idea of gladiatorial-like games here in our prison. But Effie was only acting like everyone else here, trying to make the best out of a horrible situation. Looking for something that would make her feel more at home. Just like the rest of us. You have no right, no right at all, to judge her for that. You don't know our world. You don't know what it could be like.
The 75th Hunger Games, the Quarter Quell, were the last official games held by President Snow and the Gamemakers. But they weren't the last Hunger Games. Because after the second uprising ended, after we won, the surviving victors of previous Games met. There were only seven of us left. Me and Peeta. Our mentor, Haymitch. Johanna, Enobaria, Beetee, Annie. We were given a choice by President Coin - the new leader of Panem, the leader I executed in revenge for my sister's death. One last Hunger Games, this one played by twenty four children directly related to those who held the most power in Panem.
I think the way the vote fell was obvious. Peeta and Beetee and Annie voted no. The better of us. Johanna and Enobaria voted yes. And Haymitch and I? We had the last votes. But he's as unlikable, as bitter as I am. I suspected how he'd vote. And I voted to kill those Capitol children anyway.
I am not a good person. Maybe... maybe I thought I could change. Maybe I thought I could put all this behind me. The Captiol, the Hunger Games, Peeta... But girls like me don't deserve to be happy. They don't deserved to be liked. Or loved.
So do yourselves all a favor and think before you make a judgement about someone. Because as wrong as you are about Effie? You're just as wrong about me.
