Голодные игры

           Atelevenyearsold,withPrimjustseven,Itookoverasheadofthefamily.Therewasnochoice.IboughtourfoodatthemarketandcookeditasbestIcouldandtriedtokeepPrimandmyselflookingpresentable.Becauseifithadbecomeknownthatmymothercouldnolongercareforus,thedistrictwouldhavetakenusawayfromherandplacedusinthecommunityhome.I’dgrownupseeingthosehomekidsatschool.Thesadness,themarksofangryhandsontheirfaces,thehopelessnessthatcurledtheirshouldersforward.IcouldneverletthathappentoPrim.Sweet,tinyPrimwhocriedwhenIcriedbeforesheevenknewthereason,whobrushedandplaitedmymother’shairbeforeweleftforschool,whostillpolishedmyfather’sshavingmirroreachnightbecausehe’dhatedthelayerofcoaldustthatsettledoneverythingintheSeam.Thecommunityhomewouldcrushherlikeabug.SoIkeptourpredicamentasecret.

           Butthemoneyranoutandwewereslowlystarvingtodeath.There’snootherwaytoputit.IkepttellingmyselfifIcouldonlyholdoutuntilMay,justMay8th,Iwouldturntwelveandbeabletosignupforthetesseraeandgetthatpreciousgrainandoiltofeedus.Onlytherewerestillseveralweekstogo.Wecouldwellbedeadbythen.

           Starvation’snotanuncommonfateinDistrict12.Whohasn’tseenthevictims?Olderpeoplewhocan’twork.Childrenfromafamilywithtoomanytofeed.Thoseinjuredinthemines.Stragglingthroughthestreets.