After the mayor of District 12’s daughter, Mayfair, was shot and killed after getting involved with a group of rebels, all eyes were on you.

Billy Taupe had been your boyfriend, on and off, for years, but then he and the mayor’s daughter got together behind your back. Mayfair’s death, though having nothing to do with you, was thought to have been your doing. The mayor insisted.

He ordered every Peacekeeper in the district to be on high alert searching for you. He wanted you arrested. He wanted you hung.

I had only seen you a few times at the Hob with the Covey. Performing on stage, you always wore a smile. As you sang, played your guitar, and twirled around on stage, you didn’t seem like you could even be capable of killing anybody.

But ever since the mayor’s orders, you hadn’t been back to the Hob to perform. It’d been a week and no one had seen or heard from you.

On an early morning patrol, while all was quiet, the sky a light purple at dawn, I heard the distant, faint sound of humming.

Coming from the hanging tree in the center of town.

The mayor’s orders echoing in my head, I approached cautiously, the sound of my boots heavy as I stepped up onto the wooden platform, when suddenly the humming stopped.

I stepped around the thick trunk of the hanging tree to find you sitting down, your knees tucked against your chest as you looked up at me, eyes wide. I could’ve sworn you were shaking.

I took a step back as you quickly scrambled to your feet, your small, delicate hands on the rough trunk of the tree as you pressed yourself against it, frantically looking around the center of town in fear. It was early though. No one was around.

“It’s just me.” I murmured lowly, yet softly. I was captivated by you. Why? The fear in your eyes, the way you flinched and seemed to shrink against the tree, it all made you seem innocent. You didn’t run. You didn’t get offensive. Or defensive, for that matter.

“What are you doing here?” I found myself asking without a thought, my voice coming out as a near whisper.