presentation of power

[marcellus rhodes 11b arc]

Instead of his alarm clock waking him up that morning, it was the anthem. From the sheets of his bed, he heard a low hum and a rising crescendo from the living room. It's different from his father's late-night browsing. He didn't hear cursing, nor yelling commentators from the room. Just the anthem and nothing else.

He thought a part of him was tripping. But as he turned to his clock, the time read 03:00. His eyebrows furrowed, and he rubbed his clenched-up fists against his eyes. Michael blinked. What was happening here? As he got up and walked to the living room, he was joined by an equally tired and confused parents and his younger sister. The countries' emblem in white panned the screen. That was all that was shown for two minutes. As the anthem faded, the threatening sign also faded to black. "Must be a test, or something..." his father mentioned and began to turn around until a mechanical voice filled the room.

"In order to remind the Districts that our fragile peace can be broken at any moment, without warning, the 95th Hunger Games will begin... now." Michael stared at the screen in confusion. What did he mean they begin now? Where are the tributes? The screen then revives with a collage of 24 tributes waking up. They appeared equally as dumbfounded as the Jesudason family. "What is this?" He questioned and then thought, "where are the victors in all of this?" Complexities of the situation rang in his head, but he was more concerned about Jimmy. As if the screen read his thoughts, it showed Jimmy taking his time to get up. His heart tugged. Allison glanced at him and he caught it, but neither said anything.

The boy sat on one of the chairs, now watching the life televised life of someone he knew so privately. He watched as Jimmy and Nessa dodged downstairs. He watched as one tribute was sniped by refusing to do so. There was an odd tension in the air. The edge that a surprise start to the Games puts onto the districts is potent. It was an act for the people, not the tributes. The tributes in the training center were placed into a cage tournament. Jimmy opted to stay, which gave him a flourish of anxiety. He knows that Jimmy wasn't a fighter. He'll bite, but he doesn't scratch.

As if hours had passed, a pounding was placed on the door. The sudden noise caused Michael to jump. He stood up, moving to the door and his father barked out to "STOP!" Because they couldn't tell who it was. Had they released Peacekeepers into the districts to wake them up? "We're awake." He tried to say, loud and hoarse due to his sleep-deprived nature. "I know, I can fucking hear you. Now open the damn door!" A voice that he was familiar with, compared to his family. It was Jillian.

"It's Jill." Michael states, and continued to the door to open it. She stood there with her hair frayed and a bathrobe on. Clearly, he was her first thought. The relationship between the twins and their parents wasn't one of close nature. He knew this through the talks with his friend. "What..." he stated, questioned as he looked at her and the TV. "What is happening?" Obviously, they both knew what was happening. But what? Why? The training center can't be that exciting of an arena.

[lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah]

I sat in the darkness on the living room couch, my chin resting on my knees as I hugged my legs tightly. The house was eerily quiet, as if his ghost were already haunting me prematurely. Where laughter used to float down the hall, there was nothing but the relentless hiss of the wind battering the side of the house. I was alone. I had always been alone these days. Before the day he was taken, I had never been alone, not even for one day. We were joined at the hip by an invisible tether that was always pulled tight. Having it severed so suddenly was agonizing.

Suddenly, the TV burst to life, the Capitol filling the silence so abruptly that I jumped in shock. "What the hell?" I groaned, shielding my eyes from the blinding light.

"In order to remind the Districts that our fragile peace can be broken at any moment, without warning, the 95th Hunger Games will begin... now."

What? What did that mean? Jimmy, the tributes, still had two days. He's—I'm—not ready! Uncoiling myself from the couch, I stood in front of the TV. Anxiously, I ran a hand through my tangled hair, my eyes glued to the screen. After another moment, images of the tributes climbing out of bed, disgruntled and confused, came into focus, and my eyes frantically searched the screen for one face, for his face.

It didn't take me long to find him, to find "Jimmy!" I gasped, one hand clutching my chest, the other clamped tightly over my mouth. It had been two weeks since I had seen him, but to me, it felt like two months. I watched as Nessa and Jimmy ran from the room, following the instructions of the Head Gamemaker, and suddenly I was shoving my hands through my nightgown and pushing my feet into my slippers. I needed to go see Michael. I didn't want to—I couldn't—do this alone, and right now, Michael was the only other person who even came close to loving Jimmy like I do.

Running through the darkened streets of Six, I found his door, my chest rising and falling frantically as I fought to find my breath. In the next breath, I was pounding on his door, keenly aware that I was likely going to wake up his whole family, but I couldn't care less about that. They didn't matter, not right now. My fist slapped against the wood once again, and I heard a voice calling out from within.

"We're awake," the voice called in response to my persistent knocking, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head because obviously they were awake. If it wasn't from the TV blaring, it would have been from the sheer amount of noise I'd been creating. "I know, I can hear you. Now open the damn door!" I yelled, slapping the door with an open palm.

After another moment, the door opened, and Michael greeted me looking stupidly confused. I pushed past him, entering his home where I came face to face with his family. Well, this is awkward. Giving them a short, tight-lipped smile, I turned my back on them, my eyes meeting Michael's. "Help me with my homework," I demanded, smiling at him sweetly as I took his hand and dragged him into what I presumed to be his bedroom. My smile dropped, and I wrung my hands anxiously around my wrists. "I didn't know where else to go. I didn't want to watch it alone." Climbing onto his bed, I grabbed the remote and flicked on his TV, making myself at home.

It was odd because even though it wasn't my family, and Michael wasn't my best friend, it was the first time in weeks where I didn't feel alone.

[marcellus rhodes 11b arc]

He just wanted to watch. Jimmy was not a fighter. He also wasn’t ready. He couldn’t be. It’s crazy and he watched Jillian provide a tight-lipped smile to his family. He hoped his dad didn’t think this was some special girl in his life. She was Jillian. He didn’t even know anything about her - everything he did know came from Jimmy.

"Help me with my homework,” she demanded, and offered a quick, sweet smile to cover up her evident fear. Weren’t these two supposed to be good at lying? She takes Michael’s hand and drags him into his own bedroom, a place that had only been reserved for him, Jimmy, and his annoying little brother. Before the door even closes, the sweet smile she offered to the Jesudason parents had dropped. Given that his attire was essentially the same as her brother’s, he quickly shuffled to pull on a pair of green-black plaid pyjama pants. "I didn't know where else to go. I didn't want to watch it alone." She states.

It’s nice to have just her to concern the games with, but a part of him still felt an edge knowing his parents could just be outside the door listening to them. Jillian made herself at home just like her brother would. ”Yeah, it… it sucks.” It was all so crazy to see. Jimmy had been paired up for the first round of fights by the time the cameraman finally allowed Jimmy some airtime, something Michael was sure would never fly under the boy’s own watch. ”He’s stupid for doing this tournament.”

Was he about to watch Jimmy die?