The female victors section was completely and utterly empty. As Peeta, Haymitch, and I walked to our respective areas, I could see Prim getting her finger punctured and being sent off to the 13-year-old girls area. I shuddered. If she got picked, nobody would be left to volunteer for her. I shook away the thought. The bowl was so full of names, there was no chance she would be picked again.
A few moments later, Effie made her way to the podium, wearing an orange and black dress and a butterfly headpiece. When she spoke, she sounded completely terrified.
"As you know, we will reap the ladies first. However, we are also going to reap the victors first," she said, barely a whisper, with a sour look on her face.
She made her way to the globe in front of me, and because she couldn't move the clear ball (it was attached to the stool), it took her a few minutes to get the lone slip of paper.
"Katniss Everdeen," she said plainly, discarding the sheet.
She walked over to where Peeta and Haymitch stood, a foot or so apart from each other, each praying the other was picked so he could volunteer.
"Haymitch Abernathy," a sigh of relief escaping her lips once she had backed away.
"I volunteer as tribute," Peeta said, making his way to the podium.
Haymitch grabbed his arm. "I can't let you do that."
"Try and stop me, Haymitch."
Peeta shook his arm off and stood next to me.
"Shake hands, you two."
We obliged.
"Now, for civilians!"
She made her way to the bowl not too far from mine, and picked up a slip, then dropped it back in, and stirred. She repeated this a few times, before finally picking one.
She made her way to the microphone, and when she opened the slip, I saw her face contort in a way I had never seen before. It was a mixture of sadness, and hurt, but mostly anger.
"Primrose Everdeen," tears threatening her voice.
Once, when I was 14 years old, I saw a pack of wolves. I managed to shoot 5 of them with my bow, but the sixth one noticed and attacked me. It scratched me in the chest, mere inches from my heart and lungs, and it burned and ached and hurt like nothing I had ever felt before. I never thought I would feel a pain like that again.
That was before this moment.
It's like I'm watching my body from far away. I see myself on my knees, looking down. But I'm not sobbing. I'm just sitting there, one tear rolling down my cheek. Then another. Then the out of body experience is over, and I feel Peeta's warm hand stroking my back. I stand up and wipe my tears, waiting for the poor boy's name, as Effie has already grabbed a slip. This time, when she opens the paper, a lone tear does roll down her cheek.
"Gale Hawthorne."
I close my eyes. I don't even bother crying or screaming, or even showing sadness. I just want to die. When my eyes open after what seems like forever, I'm on the train, and I feel someone's arm around me. It's small and warm and soft. I know it's Prim without looking at her. I get up. I need to find Gale and Peeta.
When I see them, they're sitting in the dining area, talking about something. I have a specific plan, and I'm not budging on it. I doubt they'll argue.
"Boys?"
Their head both snap up.
"The four of us are in an alliance. And our first priority is getting Prim out alive."
Gale opens his mouth. "I don't thin-'
I cut him off. "This isn't up for debate"
Both nod their heads. They know when I'm this determined there's no point in trying.
That night, I wake up from a nightmare screaming. In it, I saw my little sister being tortured by a tribute, her skin being carved off, her hair being ripped out. She's screaming for me, but when I run for her, she gets further away.
My scream wakes Prim up. She hugs me, whispering kind words. We fall asleep next to each other.