Let the Games Begin

Shock. That is all that can possibly register as the television in our dimly lit house flickers on to show the smoldering ruins of District 13. The once proud District is but a cloud of smoldering ash. The ash that contains everything that was once a thriving District is now floating in the air gracefully like a jabberjay taking flight. It's almost as if one could hear the audible gasp of disbelief running across Panem in one moment. The moment of realization. This is one thing that no one could ever have predicted. Cruelty is the only word that comes to mind. Anything else could have been done, this was just extreme. But then again, this is the Capitol, and mercy has never been one of their strengths. Anger swells in my chest as I think about the entirety of the District being decimated all at once, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from the Capitol's wrath. Women and children have been torn from their lives for no reason but spite. Thousands of people are dead, and all to prove the point that we cannot stand against the power of the Capitol, the ominous presence that has plagued our land for years.

The symbol of the Capitol flashes on the screen and then it goes back to the ruins as if mocking us, telling us that we are weak. Telling us that our struggles have been for nothing, and that they can take us back in an instant if we do not comply. We are powerless to stop their advances, and today has proven that.

District 13, the instigator of the rebellion, has been destroyed by the Capitol as quickly as the rebellion began. The freedom that the Districts longed for will no longer be attainable. Our leaders have been taken out in a swift attack. If the strongest of us can be destroyed in a matter of hours, what hope do we have? District 13 was the only hope that we had to have a victory. You can feel the shock and fear streaming throughout all of Panem. There will be no survivors in District 13. Not one, the Capitol has made sure of that. The ground begins to shudder, and the air cracks as though thunder is constantly booming from the sky. However, anyone that is old enough to remember the time before the rebellion knows that this is not the case.

The sound of hovercrafts overhead sends screams rippling throughout District 1. The sound of these crafts always brings terror to wherever they go because everyone in Panem knows that hovercrafts leave death and destruction in their wake. I know that these crafts have not been gone from the Capitol for long. We live closest to the Capitol, and I can only imagine where these crafts are heading. Perhaps District 13, to finish destroying the ruins, just in case they missed someone. I mean after all, you wouldn't want to leave any survivors, for they could potentially cause a ruckus in the future.

That's when I hear the explosion. The ground shakes angrily, and I know where the crafts are heading. They are here to destroy the rebellion once and for all. I fall to the floor from the impact, and I can hear glass shattering all around me. Sparkling bits rain down on me, and I curl into a ball to try to keep the shards away from my face. Pain runs along my entire body and I feel warm wetness trickling all along my limbs and neck.

My little brother screams from the other room and I force my limbs to unclench. I can feel as more shards of my house embed themselves into my flesh, but I have to ignore the pain and get to my brother to see what damage have been done. His screams resonate throughout the remains of our house, and I limp into the room that we share. The window in our room has shattered from the impact of a bomb, and my brother is bleeding from glass cutting into his arms and face. He is screaming in pain and my heart wrenches. I can't tell how close by the bomb detonated, but I know it must have been close. I wonder how many of our neighbors are injured, or worse, dead. How many people of my district are going to have to pay for this rebellion, children will die, and all because the Capitol is angry with us. The rebellion was supposed to stop the control of the Capitol, but now it seems that the deaths have only begun. District 13 was only an example. The Districts are next, beginning with us. I pick up my brother and carry him into the small cellar under our house. I figure it will keep out some of the noise, and at least there aren't any windows. I set him down, and run back up the stairs to grab the medicine from a hidden cabinet behind the dishes. The Capitol tried to confiscate all of the medicine as soon as the Districts began to rebel, so my father and I made a small hole in the back of the cabinet to store it for emergencies. I fish around for the wraps and pain ointment, and another bomb explodes sending more shards of wood and glass careening through the air. My hand clenches on what I need, and I hurriedly replace the false back and run down the stairs as another bomb shakes the ground. This one however is further away, and as far as I know caused no further damage to the house.

The explosions are becoming more frequent, and I am wondering if they are going to destroy us just like 13. A tear slides silently from my eye, and I think about my parents, my friends. My brother is holding onto me and trembling, so I have to be strong for him. I hold onto him tightly and hope to keep him quiet, as if the bombs are being targeted by the screams and cries of the frightened and injured. The screams have been nonstop since the initial bomb fell, and screams of pain began a few minutes after the attack began. Over an hour has passed with unrelenting attacks, and I begin to think that they really are trying to destroy District 1. I have spent the past hour dressing my brother's wounds as well as my own, and both the ointment and bandages have run low, but I plan to go help some of the others who have undoubtedly been injured as soon as the bombs stop, well if they stop. I sing softly as the bombs continue to crash.

I hear another hovercraft and wait for the end to come, but no explosion follows. I cock my head in confusion, trying to hear it. I count ten hovercrafts from their noises, but no bombs fall. I raise an eyebrow at my brother who has stopped crying and begun to wipe the tears from his face, and I am relieved to see that he is for the most part unscathed. I realize that we are both trembling, and I whisper softly to him that everything is going to be okay, however if this is truly for him or for my own reassurance I am not sure. I wait for the sounds of the hovercrafts to pass before I let go of my brother and walk outside to survey the damage. He tries to follow me, but I shake my head and have him sit on the chair in what's left of the living room. I can't risk another bomb falling with him outside.

Dust has begun to settle as I step out into the street. Revolt passes through me as I survey the damage that has been done to even my part of town. I am surprised that the Capitol would want to try to destroy this part of town as it is the richer part of town, the area with the designers and factory owners, but it made no difference. This is the place where their main exports come from, and yet they still showed little mercy. I can only imagine what the outlying areas look like, and hope I never have to find out. I see my neighbors strewn across the ground bleeding and moaning in pain, and others are motionless. Twelve homes are destroyed completely, and I see the mayor running down the street through the dust and ash. He has to hop over beams and roof pieces, and it looks interesting as he is not a tall man. The small man looks exasperated; his brown eyes large like a topaz stone. I run to meet him. He looks as though he has aged since the last time that I had seen him which was odd seeing as I had seen him earlier today. His gray hair was sticking up in several places, and his clothes look rumpled.

He stops and looks at me with a gaze of such pain; you can almost sense that he is feeling more pain than those that lie on the ground. His gaze flickers around to the dead around us, and I plead with him to tell me why the bombs have stopped, and he replies with a strained voice,

"District 1 has surrendered to the Capitol." He runs his fingers through his thin gray hair and runs off again before I can reply, and I stand there stupefied in the street processing what he has just said.

District 1 has fallen. The rebellion is over here, and the others will soon follow. There will surely be a price to pay. The Capitol is not known to be a forgiving place, and I know that we will soon have hell to pay for our actions. We will be forced back into work, producing the Capitols luxury items that no one really needs, but it at least gives our District an edge. Most of the other Districts were not as well fed as us, except for maybe Districts 2 and 4 while under the Capitols rule.

The rebellion has ended, and as I look at the still smoldering ruins of District 13, I know that our transition back into the Capitol's clutches will not be peaceful, and it will not be forgiving. Hell has broken loose, and we have fallen in.