nia ellenburg : d9 : cb
Oct 3, 2017 19:35:46 GMT -5
Post by goat on Oct 3, 2017 19:35:46 GMT -5
nia ellenburg
18
female
district 9
18
female
district 9
It’s cold tonight. I want to escape the bitter chill and go back inside, but the Peacekeepers insist on asking me more questions. “What do you know?” They keep asking. What do I know? I don’t know much, officers. I’m a simple girl, you see. I know that my father owns a factory, of course, where his workers manufacture bottles of shower gel. I know that the hours they have to work are long and grueling. There’s nothing I can do about it, I say. I don’t tell them that I know about the fierce intimidation tactics my father uses to keep his workers in line. I don’t tell them about the starvation, the overnight lock-ins, the less-than-standard pay.
There were things that I wasn’t supposed to know. My father spent too long thinking I was dumb. His mistake. It was easy to get information after I offered the workers food and clean clothes, the barest of necessities that life decided they didn’t deserve. I had everything I needed to turn him in and reap the cash reward, until he caught me snooping around the factory one night.
The Peacekeepers leave, finally satisfied with my answers. They apologized for the brief interrogation. Clearly, nothing was wrong. People were just being overdramatic about my father’s leadership methods.
I didn’t tell them that, when one man dared to stand up for himself two weeks ago, my father put a bullet in his skull the next morning.
I didn’t tell them that, if I told any of his secrets, my father would kill me too.
There were things that I wasn’t supposed to know. My father spent too long thinking I was dumb. His mistake. It was easy to get information after I offered the workers food and clean clothes, the barest of necessities that life decided they didn’t deserve. I had everything I needed to turn him in and reap the cash reward, until he caught me snooping around the factory one night.
The Peacekeepers leave, finally satisfied with my answers. They apologized for the brief interrogation. Clearly, nothing was wrong. People were just being overdramatic about my father’s leadership methods.
I didn’t tell them that, when one man dared to stand up for himself two weeks ago, my father put a bullet in his skull the next morning.
I didn’t tell them that, if I told any of his secrets, my father would kill me too.
