Orchard Angelou, District Eleven

This can't be real. It's just a show. They're going to give us a little scare and show that they can, and then they're going to let us go. They can't make us pay for this war. I was twelve when it started. I'm only fifteen now. There's a boy next to me who's thirteen. The countdown began, and I waited for it to turn off and for the platforms to lower back into the ground.

Haven't we already paid enough? Haven't we all paid? I thought of the bombs raining from the sky, of running out of my burning house, of seeing the bodies lying in the streets. The fields at home were scorched and barren. We didn't even have anything to eat. I didn't even want to go home. I wanted to have a home.

The countdown reached ten, and I looked at the golden shape in the center of the ring of platforms. It was filled with blades and weapons. They couldn't think we were going to use them. We were children. We couldn't kill each other with knives. Nobody would want to watch that, not even the Capitol. The countdown reached zero and blinked off.

"Let the Hunger Games begin!" a voice boomed. None of us moved from our platforms. We looked at each other and laughed nervously. Minutes passed, and one of the boys tentatively tapped a foot on the ground. They told us there were bombs that would turn off when the timer ran off. That was probably just to scare us. After the boy stepped onto the ground, the rest of us followed. I stood by my platform and watched the others wander toward the Cornucopia. The youngest boy and girl grabbed two swords and started playfighting. The girl stuck her sword into the boy's crooked arm, and he fell back dramatically. She laughed and helped him up.

They're taking a long time, I thought. Then a circle of grass parted and a larger platform rose up. A bunch of Peacekeepers stood on it.

Oh, they must be here to take us back, I thought. The littler kids started running toward them. The peacekeepers knelt down and raised their weapons. All my instincts flooded back and I crouched behind my platform with just my eyes peeking over. The children stopped and looked at the Peacekeepers in confusion. Then the bullets started. They ripped into the children and spun their bodies backward. Blood shot out of dozens of holes in their bodies and none of them had time to scream. The rest of us made up for that. There was a mad dash for cover from half a dozen shrieking children. I stayed shaking behind my platform. I felt like I'd left my body and I was just a pair of frozen, staring eyes. Tears leaked out of me as I watched twelve children fall and die. When all the remaining children were hiding, the Peacekeepers stood up on their platform and lowered out of sight. Cannons started to boom.

They killed them, I thought. They're dead. They're really dead. They shot them. They're dead. Moans and whimpers filled the air. One boy was still screaming, a thin cry that stopped only when he gasped in another breath. Daddy, come get me. Please come get me. Something flickered above the golden thing.

60:00

It started counting backward. I knew what it meant.

They want us to start killing. We have one hour. For the first ten minutes, nobody moved. It took thirty minutes for me to start looking for the smallest child. It only took five to kill him. The rest scattered. There was nowhere to run in the wide, grassy field. I crawled into the golden thing and curled up on my side. I spent the night there, weeping and shuddering. Music played in the night, and the faces of the dead children showed in the sky. The little boy I'd strangled looked down at me, and I screamed to block him out. With every noise, I tensed and shrank deeper into the shelter.

Two days later the first new cannon boomed. I wondered which of the children it was. I stayed where I was and looked through the piles of weapons for water or food. There wasn't any. The next day six more cannons sounded. I wondered when mine would come.

You're going to die, I thought. One of them will kill you just like you killed that boy. Someone's already out there killing. He'll come for you. I looked at the weapons around me. They were hateful things, made by the Capitol for killing children. I couldn't stand to look at them. I wanted to leave it all.

You can go home, I realized. I knew what that would mean. You already killed once, the thought came. What does it matter now? Someone has to be a killer. You know that now. You don't want to die? Better make sure everyone else does. I stood up and walked out of the shelter. Nineteen of the other children were already gone. It was easy for me to find the other four. Most of them had run until they had no water left in them. They lay panting on the ground. They barely looked up when I crouched over them. It only took a moment. After I found the last one, I lay in the grass and cried. I only knew one thing. This must never happen again.