A/N: This is for the SkyeElf Challenge 8. I know it's incredibly early, but I'd been inspired. I don't own HG.

Death will never rule

My name is Primrose Everdeen. And I'm a coward.

The crowd was silent. The atmosphere thick, so thick not even Katniss' bow could pierce it. The entire district 12 was silent, and this silence screamed louder than even the loudest bell. The woman who had no identity at the front's hand went into the glass bubble. He long-nailed fingers snatched a small piece of paper. Slowly, dramatically slow, she extracted her hand. She opened it, chuckling nervously, and flipped it entirely open. She took a breath, anticipation built up… Without her saying it, I know it's me. My name is on that slip of paper. The slip of paper that was my death certificate.

"Primrose Everdeen." She said it as if being bludgeoned to death was a treat, as if it was one of those cakes I liked to look at. It's not. It's death. It's final, it's impending, and I knew I would die some day – but I wasn't ready to die! I didn't want to die now! And I knew I would die the minute I stepped into the arena. I could heal wounds. That's it. I'd be dead within the first few minutes. Seconds, even. I wasn't a fast runner.

Everyone was looking at me. My friends, or who I thought were my friends, were just staring. Not doing anything. Not that they should, I don't think any of them wanted to die. No one wanted to die, but it's hard not to.

Gulping I went to the stage, two white uniforms guiding me. My feet were like lead, and I was making a fool of myself. The faceless woman tittered, grabbing my shoulder, her talons digging into my shoulder painfully.

Time sped by. Blurs of training, an interview, other tributes and then… the arena. Time slowed again, and we waited for the minute to pass before we fought. I would run. Run as fast as I could, hoping that Katniss' words had somehow clung to me.

I stepped off the plate, ready to turn around and run. Of course I was too slow; of course someone had caught up with me. I was slammed roughly into the tree; I heard a sickening 'crack'. My arm went limp. A large foot stomped on mine, cueing another 'crack'. I howled in pain, looking up at my attacker. He had no eyes, and his hair was like strings… he was large, older than eighteen. A large hand held a saw, a large saw, and its teeth as large as toothy splinters. Horrifyingly slowly, it was driven into my face, right between my eyes. Blood spat and spilled everywhere; and I saw myself against the tree, a saw stuck in my face. A third party. I was dead.

I screamed. My eyes flew open as arms engulfed me, hugging me, saying soothing words… It calmed me. I knew it was Katniss, my sister. She always knew what to do. I didn't hear what she said, but her voice was soft. My terrified sobs slowed, while the tears were almost gone.

I checked my breathing… it was there. I was alive! I hadn't been reaped, or killed by a saw! I hadn't left my body, because I was looking at Katniss' clothes.

She let me go an inch to look at me. I stood on my toes and asked her to sing. Her voice was like my father's. I couldn't remember much about him. I remember that his eyes were kind; they always crinkled when he laughed… I couldn't remember their colour, but I could remember how they showed kindness. Katniss was so much like him. She was a fighter, stubborn…

She settled me down on the bed, singing the song my father taught her. She wasn't perfect, but she was trying. Within seconds I was fast asleep, drifting to a meadow with a soft green pillow…

. . .

Just like in the dream, the atmosphere was thick. The large saw from my dream wouldn't be able to pierce it. The woman now had a face, and she was hideously dressed in pink.

This was it. The moment of truth. The reaping. My coffin would be back in a month, I knew. The moment the pink-haired demon touched the slip of paper in the same way the dream demon had, I knew it. The seconds went by slowly. Why couldn't she just say my name and be done with it?

Hoping against hope, I prayed that my dream was wrong. I believed that the name she was about to read wasn't mine, and that my fast heartbeat wasn't because my heart was anxious to try and beat as many times as it could before I was dead and it had no function, that my time wasn't limited and I wasn't subjected to death as a saviour. That I wasn't time's jester, that I wasn't some toy!

"Primrose Everdeen." The pink witch said. I swallowed. This wasn't a dream, it was reality. Seconds from now I wouldn't scream myself awake, arms wouldn't hold me, and the soothing voice of my sister wouldn't sing me to sleep.

Eyes were on me. The eyes showed pity, they showed misery… mostly, they showed relief. It wasn't them. I would be relieved too, only it was me. The odds weren't in my favour. I made my way to the peacekeepers. Just like in the dream, no one would volunteer. I didn't expect them to either. I would die, and my coffin would be back within a month.

"Prim!" The shrill voice screamed. "Prim!" I turned around. It was Katniss, she was really pretty in her blue dress. Mom's dress. Two peacekeepers held her back. "I volunteer!" She cried, hysterical. "I volunteer as tribute!" The peacekeepers left her side, allowing her to pass. She walked to me.

"Go to mom, Prim." She ordered me. I couldn't, I grabbed onto her waist.

"No, Katniss…" I moaned.

"Go to mom!" She yelled. I was grabbed around my middle, pulled away from her. I couldn't let her do it! No!

"No! No! Katniss!" I screamed, not holding the tears back.

"Shhs…" The one holding me said. It was Gale. "She knows what she's doing."

He set me down next to my mother. She grasped me tightly, not saying anything.

"She'll live, my little Prim." She said, her voice full of conviction. "We both know she will. And she'll win for you."

I hid my face from her, burying it into her dress. I knew she was under no delusion, she knew she might be lying to me. Katniss had a small chance of survival, but she had spirit, she was skilled, and she knew how to hunt.

She would win! I was positive of it! But I'd tell her too. She would win. She'd just have to. She was my sister, the brave, like my father. And me? I was a coward. Scared of something that could be even better than sleep, than a nap.

Death would never rule me again, I wouldn't allow it. Death will never best me! And if Katniss dies, she'll be sleeping soundly. I knew it. It was what got me through her games.