What if We Were Made to Kill Each Other?

Chapter One: Splintered Heart

Petronia always found it ironic that the one day of the year when she got to relax by herself for a few hours was also the most distressing day of the year. Reaping day.

Petronia, who preferred the shortened version of her name, Pet, was reclined back on the surprisingly soft, green grass. She tried to soak up as much of the warm rays from the mid-morning sun as she could. It coated her skin in a deliciously sleepy haze. Pet never got these single moments of peace. She never got the chance to just lay back and absorb the sunshine. The concept was almost entirely foreign to her.

Pet was the daughter of a harvester. Which made her a harvester too. Even if she wanted to be something else. Most days she spent walking in between the waves of light brown growing grain. District 9 supplied the grain to Panem. The weather in her district was ideal for growing it for longer. Pet spent many hours in the sweltering, harsh sun, harvesting and farming, and doing just about any job to earn enough money for her family. The result was her deep golden-brown skin, and adequately muscled thighs and biceps.

Those muscles protested when she wrenched herself to her feet. She started for home, slowly picking up the pace and running. She was pushing it if she wanted to be ready on time. Every year she was running behind and every year, she would stay too long just for those moments to herself. Because they could be her last. The possibility scared her beyond belief, coiling in her gut.

Because she could be reaped. And like every other child, she carried that fear around.

She was home in less than three minutes, slowing her steps when she opened the door to her family's simple abode. It was a shack, exactly like all the others beside it.

Pet's mother sat somberly on her old rocking chair, the weathered wood creaking under her shifting weight. She was looking out the window, face void; blank.

She was sick in her head. She spent days at a time in that rocking chair, seeming content not to move or speak. Oblivious to everything around her. Over the years, Pet had noticed she became more distant and forlorn on Reaping days. It made Pet wonder if, maybe, she knew more than she let on. Pet often wondered if she was hiding things away in her mind, or if it was as empty as her gaze. Sometimes she wondered if her mother even knew who she was.

Pet lived for her odd moments of clarity. Her lucid days, sometimes only hours long. She'd push open the front door after a late shift from one of her various jobs she took, and her mother's eyes would fill with a knowing light as she smiled sadly, saying, "You're such a good girl, Pet."

It was enough to add another fissure to Pet's heart, sure that one day, her heart would shatter and she'd be nothing anymore. Just like her mother. But as fleeting as those moments were, she clung to them as tightly as she could. They were a life raft in the middle of a storm.

Pet headed to the back of the shack where the room she shared with her sister was. Her mother looked up, locking onto her eyes. For a second, Pet was sure she was looking at her future self. She was almost an exact replicate. Glossy black hair, wide green eyes, a heart-shaped face with a small nose.

A desperately sad smile lifted her lips, marring her delicate features. Pet's mother was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. But she hated the painful emotion occupying her features right then. Pet shielded her mother from the world as best she could. She couldn't stand to see her distressed or in pain.

Pet walked over and placed a gentle kiss on the once-golden skin of her cheek. Her smile was still sad as she reached a hand up to the side of Pet's face, brushing at her loose hair, closing her eyes on a sigh.

"So pretty," she murmured. Her voice was so soft that if there had been a breeze, it would have blown her words away. She reopened her eyes and Pet noticed a glassy coating to them. She hurried down to her room. She couldn't handle seeing her mother cry. She couldn't handle tears.

In her room, Diana sat in front of their small mirror, twisting her hair around her finger and smiling vaguely, eyes distant. It cut at Pet, as sharp as a knife, right through her chest. Every time she saw that same, familiar, absent gaze on Diana's face, panic threatened to swallow her up, hitting her right in the chest like a load of bricks.

As soon as Pet walked in, she brightened up instantly, so bright it was a wonder she could stand so close to her without burning up. She was like the sun; bright, warm, constant.

"Pet!"

She was already dressed, waiting patiently and calmly, not bothering anyone. The buttons on her dress were crooked and not done up right, and her hair, which she always had difficulty with, was a frazzled mess. Pet went to her first, prying the twisted strands from her hands, running my fingers through it, combing it, before plaiting it and tying a ribbon around the end. Diana sighed contentedly.

Pet stared at the reflection. They looked different, and most people found it hard to believe they were sisters. Diana had brown-blonde hair, baby blue eyes and a distracted, not-completely-there smile. When their gazes met in the mirror, her smile became brilliant and Pet couldn't help but smile back. She was beautiful bundle of energy. She stood up and she was taller than Pet; she got her height and her features from their dad. Pet took after their mother. She reached up to fix Diana's buttons.

Diana was two years older than Pet, but in every other respect, Pet was the older sister. In body, Diana was eighteen, but in mind, she was much younger. Every day she slipped a little further away from Pet's reach. Like their mother. It scared Pet more than the prospect of being reaped ever could.

Pet loved her deeply; no one could meet Diana and not love her. She was sweet. Innocent. Far too lovely to be violent or cruel, to enjoy the sadistic show of the Hunger Games.

"Why don't you go sit with mama?" Pet asked softly, in the gentle tone she reserved for her.

Diana nodded benignly, and jumped up, dancing and twirling in her dress out to their mother. Pet's eyes threatened to fill and she blinked harshly. She pulled on her dress, the white material rough against her skin. The edges were lined with a small ribbon of white lace. The same lace wrapped around her waist, making it decidedly more feminine. It was the prettiest item she owned. It had been Diana's, but she'd grown out of it.

Diana needed medicine. Their mother needed medicine. But that cost money. Money they didn't have. Their district was one of the poorest, despite being surrounded by food. Everything they grew went straight to the Capitol. Women were afraid to be pregnant. Children ran in rags. Old men lived on the street with nothing to cover their heads when winter rolled around. People starved. And there was food right there.

They barely had enough food, let alone money. It was why Pet pulled double shifts, just like her father. So they could eventually save enough money to buy medicine. But it was so frustrating to watch their money not even seem to grow any. They worked hard, and it seemed to be for nothing.

Pet hated them for that. Not her mother and sister. Never in a million years would she be angry with them, never would she complain that they didn't work, never would she resent them for that. She hated the Capitol.

For taking her childhood away and making her work, to scrounge for money to survive.

For not knowing what it was like to fall asleep with absolutely no worries.

For killing twenty three children every year in the name of mercy.

For making them pay for the crimes of their ancestors.

But mostly, for making it so hard to buy medicine.

Pet slipped on shoes, walking out of the room. Diana sat on the ground beside their mother, her head resting lightly against their mother's knees. Pet swallowed hard, reaching for Diana's hand. it was offered to her easily, her fingers threading with Pet's comfortably.

Their papa walked through the door just as they were to leave, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes tired.

"Papa!" Diana exclaimed, smiling her usual, exuberant smile that made everyone else smile.

"Diana, Pet," he said, his voice weary and tired and worried. Exactly the same as it always was.

"Do you like my dress?" Diana asked, twirling for him before grabbing Pet's hand again. She did that every year, though she wore the same dress and he'd seen it before.

"Beautiful," he smiled, before looking at Pet. "You too."

"Thanks," Pet said, her eyes dropping to the ground. "We need to go."

"We'll be there soon," he promised. Just as soon as he could coax their mother back to reality. He didn't say it, but then, he didn't need to. Pet knew.

.

.

.

The girls on either side of Pet shifted uncomfortably. Pet kept her eye on Diana. She didn't wander off though; she seemed to be happily speaking with a sick looking girl beside her.

Rye Fields, in her absurd Capitol dress, tapped on the microphone twice, before beaming down at the horrified crowd. Her lips were painted an unnatural shade of brown, stretching wide, a poor imitation of the brown of their grain. Pet couldn't pay attention to her opening speech or the film they showed each year about the Capitol's mercy, their leniency, their kindness. She closed her eyes, just wanting it to be over.

Then Rye reached into the ball that held all the slips with the girl's names, and Pet's ears snapped back into focus. Pet had a number of her own names in there. This was it. The moment every man, woman and child feared.

Rye smacked her lips together, "And this year's female tribute representing District Nine is… Diana Ray!"

Pet's heart stopped beating. Nobody moved. Nobody said anything.

Not Diana.

Blood drained from Pet's face. A hysterical, strangled gasp burst from her lips. No. No. No.

Pet was sure she was going to be sick.

Her mouth dropped and her heart went from stillness to a million beats a second as she glanced around frantically. Oh, God, not Diana. Anyone but her. She was too sweet. Too innocent. Too oblivious. Confused mutterings rose from the crowd and Pet looked around, searching for her papa. There were a few outcries of sending a mentally ill child into the games, but mostly people kept quiet. They didn't want their own daughter to be picked in her stead.

When she spotted her papa, he was holding her mama to him, their eyes wet. Mama was clawing at her temples, pulling at her hair as papa tried to get her to stop.

Diana couldn't go into the Games, because she'd never come back out. She just didn't understand. And even if, by some miracle, she made it out, she'd never be the same again. Everyone had heard of Annie Cresta. And Diana was crazy before she went in. Someone as innocent as Diana couldn't go through something so violent and still be the same as before.

Desperate panic thumped in her chest as two peacekeepers stepped up, grabbing Diana and pulling her towards the platform. At first, she went happily. Then she got confused. The change was clear as she thrashed against the larger men, screaming for Pet, for her mama and papa. Tears streamed down her face.

The sound of her anguished cries was disturbing. Anyone who saw it would know she wasn't all there. That there was something missing.

It splintered Pet's heart, fractured it.

"Wait!" She shouted. She didn't remember walking out of her line, to the path down the middle of the audience. All she could see was Diana, and her panic, her confusion, her pain, and all she knew was that she had to make it stop. And only then did she realize what she was about to do.

Volunteering wasn't selfless. It wasn't compassionate. It was stupid. But Pet was going to do it anyway. All she had to do was look at Diana; her older sister, who she'd watched out for most of her life, who she protected fiercely, who she loved more than anything. There was no other option.

And Pet was okay with that. As long as they let Diana go.

Because she couldn't watch her older sister, away from her protection, die at the hands of another child. For sport. For entertainment. Pet was selfish like that. Instead, she would make her parents watch her die, and take away half their income all in one go. Papa would push himself to work more so he could feed them, and eventually his heart would give out. And mama and Diana would be alone.

Pet was faced with an impossible decision. But she had to choose what she could handle. And she couldn't handle watching Diana die and knowing she could have prevented it.

The crowd was silent, watching her. They gave her plenty of space, making sure they wouldn't be mistaken as the one calling for them to stop. Pet could feel the pressure of a thousand eyes on her. but the only eyes she cared about were Diana's.

"I volunteer."

Her shoulders were tense and her stomach roiled. But she ignored it, clenching her teeth. She had difficulty breathing and her eyes stung. Her hands shook and her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

"I volunteer." She repeated it. "I volunteer." It was urgent. She had to make sure they knew she was volunteering, that she was taking Diana's place. That Diana wouldn't be going into the games. And now, she never would. It was her last year.

Her fingers gripped the rough material of her dress. The peacekeepers let go of Diana who bolted to Pet, hugging her, pushing her wet face into Pet's shoulder. Pet squeezed her eyes shut, a tear leaking out against her will as she committed the feel of her sister's hugs to memory.

"Go to papa," she said so softly, it was barely audible. She did as Pet asked, and she straightened up. She walked for the platform, her feet stumbling on the steps. Her hands shook against her will.

"And what's your name?" Rye asked, her chirpy voice amplified through the microphone as she grinned.

"Petronia Ray." She swallowed, her mouth dry.

Rye clapped her hands together in absolute excitement, her wide grin seeming to widen. This woman would have smiled at Diana as she was offered up for slaughter. The thought made Pet so blindingly angry, her eyes flashing dangerously as she clenched her fists to hold them still Rye's smile dropped slightly.

"So… I bet that was your sister?"

Pet just stared at her.

"Right, well… a round of applause for this year's female tribute!" She grinned out at the crowd. Silence met her request, and Pet looked out at the sea of people. She couldn't see her mama or papa or sister.

"Well, onto our second tribute. And the lucky boy representing District Nine is… Axel Grove!"

The boy's side shifted to reveal the named boy. He made his way to the stage.

The first chill of fear shot down my spine. He was big. Much bigger than my smaller frame. His face was carefully blank, giving nothing away. Power and strength radiated from his bulk. My heart picked up speed. It knew it's time was limited, and it wanted to get as many beats in as it could.

Rue led the crowd in applause this time. "Shake hands you two."

Pet stared at Axel, sizing him up. His shoulders were at her eyes level and she had to crane her neck back to see his face. His eyes were a surprisingly warm brown. He offered his hand and she shook it. The barely contained strength in his grip was a promise that he could crush me with just one blow.

They were ushered into the Justice Building, into separate rooms.

A minute passed. Then two. The door swung open, and Diana burst into the room, mama and papa close behind. Diana flung her arms around Pet's neck, her body wracked with sobs. "I don't want you to go!"

"It'll be okay," Pet told her gently, smoothing her hand down her now free flowing hair. Pet hated to have to break a promise. Especially to Diana.

She pulled back, frowning like she knew I couldn't keep that promise. Papa took her place, enveloping Pet in his arms, crushing her to his chest. This was goodbye for good. He knew it and she knew it. they were two of a kind. "You have to come back."

Pet didn't reply, just letting her eyes slip closed, resting her head against his chest, reveling in the familiarity. Trying to imprint these moments to her memory. Because in the middle of the games, if she was unlucky as to live that long, those memories would be all she had. All that could get her through the terrible days and even worse nights. Pet held no false illusions about these games.

He pulled back, and Pet was tempted to pull him back into a hug, not quite ready to lose him yet. She turned to her mother, who was looking at her with a steady gaze. Much more steady than usual. Tentatively, she reached for Pet, her arms slipping around her.

"My baby," she whispered into her hair, suddenly holding tighter, her hands flying to her hair, smoothing it like she had just done to Diana. "Oh, my baby."

Tears sprung to her eyes, her voice cracking then threatening to close forever, "Mama."

She pulled away, her hands resting on the sides of Pet's face, forcing her to look her in the eyes. Pet's eyes looked back at her, like a mirror. Pet realized this would be a moment of clarity.

"You're coming back to me, my baby," she said firmly. Like it was the truth. Like, in her eyes, it was the only possible outcome. "We need you. Diana needs you, papa needs you. I need you. You're coming back. Promise me. Promise me," her gentle voice took on a harsh edge, steel taking up residence like Pet had never heard before.

Pet looked at, surprised by her vehemence, the strength she was showing. No tears, no wails. No tearing at her hair and clothes, no clawing at her skin. Just absolute certainty. Her strength gave Pet strength as goose bumps prickled her skin.

"I promise," she said, eyes dry.

Determination swelled in Pet's chest. She had to come back. She had to.

An uncaring voice called through to them, "Time's up."

When no one moved, peacekeepers came in to physically remove them. "No!" Diana wailed, hugging Pet, holding tight. "No! Pet!"

A peacekeepers began to extricate her from Pet. "Be careful with her," Pet growled.

"Let go," he commanded Diana.

"Go," I said. "And be good for mama and papa."

"Pet!" She wailed as the peacekeepers hauled her away, her arms flying about as she struggled. Papa came to help, trying to sooth her and he led her out the door. Mama stood there in the entrance, face calm, watching Pet.

"You're stronger than you think, Petronia Ray. Remember your promise."

And then she was gone. They were all gone and Pet was alone.

So, what did you think?

This is actually a re-written version of my original story by the same title. I still didn't like it, so I re-wrote it again.

Thanks so much for reading this for me!