Eleven died in the bloodbath; eleven whose names all of us do not even know. Who were they? How were their lives before the reaping like? What were on their minds as they drew their very last breath? If only we could take a glimpse through their eyes. If only we could venture into their deepest thoughts, then maybe they won’t be nameless after all.
Running away from the Cornucopia, he saw the buffed up boy from district 1 aiming a machete at him. Being too late to dodge out of the way, the machete flew right towards him and sunk its heavy blade into his chest. Oddly, he could not feel a thing. As it happened so quickly, and the moments later so slowly, he found himself falling to the ground, as though in a dream.
The moment he touched the grass, his vision was already blurring and he couldn’t remember what he was trying so hard to recall. But at the back of his head, he could hear his voice calling to him.
“I’m proud of you, son.” His father’s voice echoed in his head. And that was all he wanted to hear from his father who never said a word. Soon, the voice stopped and so did his heart.
That was the end of the nameless boy from district 9.
The searing pain rose to her thighs as she saw the gash in her legs. Screaming in pain, she did not sense the presence of another tribute, who came from behind her and stabbed her in the back. Immediately, she fell to the ground as she bled profusely. No one came to end her life, and no one came to her aid. Yet she knew she was going to die as the amount of blood oozing from her wounds started soaking into the ground beneath her, making the ground wet, as though it had just rained blood.
“Please don’t let me die,” she muttered repeatedly.
Then, out from the corner of her eyes, she saw her fellow district tribute, who briefly stared right at her as he hid in between the supply crates.
“Help me,” she mouthed.
But the boy merely stared, frightened to the very core.
Should he go? He asked himself. Should he help her? He remembered the day she risked her life trying to pull him out from under a train engine. He was playing with his friends when it happened, and she was there with her father. He had no idea how he got stuck, but when he realized it, they were ready to test run the engine. He knew that if she did not go under the train and yanked him out, the two electromagnetic fields would have blown him to bits.
Finally deciding he should attempt to help the girl, he was confronted with the boy from district 2, who immediately took him by the head. At that very second, he did not even hear his own head snap.
Watching from the distance, she knew he was gone, and finally giving up, she too accepted her fate. At least she saved his life once, and that was one good deed she could amount to.
Those were the crossing ends of the nameless boy and girl from district 6.
She was a pretty face. Everyone said so. She was going to be in pageants and win crowns with her high cheek bones and beautiful eyes. But when she was named tribute, all of those dreams were flushed down the drain. Beauty could do her nothing in the hunger games, and yet she still paid more attention to her face than to her skills.
It was only during the bloodbath did she realize that her pretty face made her no friends and did not make her any more prettier inside. As she felt the sickle slash across her face, all she could think about was how she would look like. And it was during then that she saw how shallow she had lived her life.
As she touched her face, she wasn’t sure if it was her tears that was blurring her vision or if she was dying. And as everything started to fade away, all she saw was herself, in a beautiful dress, with a crown on top of her head, and her face so brutally scarred. It was then that she asked herself if all she ever wanted before the games mattered, and it was only then that she realized she had lived such a worthless life. If only I could turn back time, she thought a final thought.
That was the end of the nameless girl from district 3, who realized too late that no one could live life twice.
He felt his hands around his neck, and the harder he struggled to free himself, the faster he felt his strength leaving him. He was about to die, and he knew it. As the hands around his neck started to loosen, he recalled of the day his baby brother grabbed onto his neck and attempted to strangle him in a game.
“You cannot strangle me baby brother,” he said to the toddler with bright blue eyes.
“I monster!” his brother shouted happily.
“No, you’re not a monster,” he said, as he tackled his brother gently and tickled him.
“Now, now, you have plenty of time to play later. Time to get ready for the reaping,” his mother interrupted.
The reaping, he thought. The reaping led him straight to his death. Here he was, hoping that it was his harmless baby brother strangling him, and in the back of his head, all he could hear was his hearty child laughter. He always wanted a brother, and now that he had one, he was never going to get to know him better.
In the very last second of his life, he hoped that his brother would be spared from the games and that he would not have to be the monster he innocently claimed to be. He hoped his future would be different.
I love you baby brother, he thought. And that was the end of the nameless boy from district 5.