A Roses' Thorns.
When I woke, it was the dead of night. I looked across the room and saw my sister, May, trembling in her sleep. She was having a nightmare, and rightfully so-for the reaping was in less than 12 hours.
May, being only 12 years of age, had little chance of being selected. Our family was fortunate enough to avoid needing tesserae-but just barely. It was a rarity in District 12- particularly the Seam, where knowing where your next meal was coming from was a huge step ahead of the rest of us.
I looked over at May, and she had stopped shaking, although it seemed she was saying something in her sleep.
"Rosalia…" I heard her mumble. Rosalia was my name. Rose for short. My mother joked about how I was the thorniest rose of all with my snarky attitude and my hatred for, well, almost everything.
I climbed out of bed, knowing I wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep. I quietly pulled on my leather boots, and pulled on a leather jacket over my ratty nightgown.
I looked over at May, appearing tiny and helpless in the dim light. I quietly walked over to her and kissed the side of her head. She stirred slightly and rolled on to her side.
I left the room, picking up my case of throwing knives along the way. I wandered outside, quiet as a mouse. I very quickly and quietly went to the fence bordering the district. I found solitude in the woods. I was happy there. I left all my cares and worries behind in the district. Here I was free.
I thought about May and how she would only be entered once. I had managed to convince myself that there was no way she would be selected. She wouldn't. Her chances are so remote.
I silently slid under the fence and went out into the woods. I opened my case and selected my favorite knife. The knife was small, with a razor sharp tip. I had named this knife Morning Glory. Morning Glory had helped aid me in hunting. Every time I threw the knife at an animal, it pierced right through the middle of the eyes. Morning Glory was also the first knife my father had given to me before he died.
And so, I spent until daybreak throwing my knives. Trying to take my mind off of the painful hours to come, praying that neither May nor I would be reaped, and that she and I would be home safe for another year.
Sweet, loveable May, with her beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes. May, who wouldn't last a second in the Games. May, who was my pride and joy and the one person I loved in this entire world.
"I won't let you go, May," I thought, throwing my last knife. I watched it stick into the tree bark. "You can count on it."