A ghoulish woman appears elevated on top of a towering stage, wisps of color streaked across her face; a face which curls into a snarling, menacing grin. Bringing the microphone closer to her lips, she whispers a name which is soon amplified and booms across the silent courtyard.
"Kurt Hummel."
Rachel Berry lifts her head, the name registering in her mind.
"No" she breathes.
Her eyes dart across the courtyard, she throws a look of desperation to her best friend, Kurt who looks back at her, water beading in his solemn eyes. Slowly he shakes his head as if to say to her 'No Rach, this is real.' Instantly men begin to grab at him, dragging him towards the stage, Kurt however is limp, his body becoming lifeless and defeated.
Then all of a sudden she is screaming. Panic and fear escaping through her raw throat in the form of this shrill hysterical noise.
District Eight. Early morning. Reaping Day for the 73rd Annual Hunger Games.
I woke with sweat dripping from my lip and brow. I didn't even attempt to rub the drowsiness from my eyes; my body and mind were both already alert- shaken, terrified and alert. I couldn't forget what this day was and what it would bring. The day of the reaping.
Pushing thoughts of last year's events from my mind I put on my best dress, a dress which is only worn on the grimmest of occasions. I sit and brush my hair, mentally tallying my odds. One reaping ball with my name on it for each year I am eligible to participate in the Games. I am in the uncommon but fortunate position of never having signed up for tesserae, my father Mayor Berry holds authority with his job title and with this he is easily one of the richest men in District Eight. Despite making a habit of calculating my odds, I have never truly worried for myself. Out of the thousands of starving families in District Eight, plenty have made the risk of accepting tesserae in exchange for the odds being less in their favor, giving me an obvious advantage.
Instead the fear churning in my stomach was for my friends, Kurt was gone, they could no longer torture him the way they did in the arena but what about my other friends and cousins? It could easily be any of them this time, and I would have to watch them being dragged off to their death, left once more with a helpless empty feeling.
The door to my room is thrown open and I am torn from my thoughts.
My father a short, stout man stands in the doorway wearing the most exasperated face he can manage to pull. He wasn't born into power and privilege like most who bare his title, he was just another poor boy working in the factories trying to make daily quota and earn enough grain to survive. But this lifestyle didn't suit him; he would watch the Games in envy of the rich and glamorous citizens of the Capitol living a life of frivolity and luxury, protected from hardship under the watchful eye of President Snow.
Yes, Seymour Berry was an ambitious man; he wanted things and knew how to get them. His only advantage that pushed him towards the top rung of the district was his desperation; he was willing to do anything to get his way. Firstly he became very friendly with the Peacekeepers who generally didn't fraternize with the Capitol-hating public. Then slowly to gain their trust he would report discrepancies which had gone unnoticed throughout the district, some stolen grain, unauthorized trading and even on the rare occasion some poor desperate soul trying to jump the perimeter fence. Somewhere along the way this alliance made him an increasingly powerful man, a man which the Peacekeepers respected and often relied upon. I had always admired my father; even emulated him, wanting to be as ambitious and ruthless as he was, hoping one day I too could achieve power and status merely through sheer effort. However everything changed when Kurt's name was called at the reaping, my attitude toward the Capitol changed and more importantly my attitude towards my father. Now a frosty silence lingers over us whenever we are together, both too stubborn and hurt to look over the events which occurred exactly one year prior.
"You do realize I have to be there early for set up?"
"Well if you have to be there early, you should probably have already left."
"Rach-" He stops before he could utter another syllable, but I already know what he was going to say. For despite our feud and our power, this was reaping day and as we bicker other families are sobbing and preparing to say their final goodbyes. Walking together to the reaping even in our own little frosty silence would be our only goodbye if the odds weren't in my favor, and I was almost robbing him of that.
"Yeah I'm ready- let's go."
His face contorts for a brief moment into shock and confusion, not quite understanding why I'm in such a cooperative mood. However he quickly morphs back into his usual stony self and waits for me outside.
I quickly dash over to my bed and fumble with my pillow, recovering a picture of Kurt and my star necklace for luck. I look deeply into the photograph filled with his smile, his naive little smile.
"I promise I'll make them pay Kurt. One day, I'll make them pay."
I lingered in the open of the courtyard as my father discussed the proceedings in a hushed manner with a few Peacekeepers. The camera crew was being set up on every possible angle, preparing to capture all of the excitement, terror and tears. Slumped against a fence waiting for the courtyard to fill out I fidgeted with my necklace. The star dangling on the end of the chain was supposed to symbolize me, my ambition and my inevitable rise out of District Eight but now it is only a bitter reminder of my boyfriend, sorry, ex-boyfriend; Finn Hudson.
Kurt and I were inseparable. Our similar personalities often clashed causing vicious rivalries and quarrels but no matter what we would always reconcile by the evening and meet out by the old oak which rested by the fence, at an isolated part of our District. Here we would enjoy the rare treats my father is sent in from the Capitol, Kurt being from a poor underprivileged family (unlike mine) was overly grateful for this generosity and demanded to contribute to our secret evening picnics. His talent lied in baking, so I often smuggled him extra supplies so that he could bake and bring beautifully extravagant cakes to our rendezvous point.
One evening I was sitting waiting on Kurt as I noticed the sky started to darken, this concerned me as I knew he was late. This was extremely unusual as Kurt was the most freakishly punctual person I ever had the pleasure to meet. Just as I had decided to go look for him a tall figure began to approach, someone of great height and build was drawing closer and I could tell from his careless tread (in comparison to Kurt's discreet and swift footsteps) that this was a stranger. For some reason I panicked. I thought to myself this must be a Peacekeeper, and despite given my father's status and that curfew wasn't for another half hour or so, I shot up the tree- my feet slipped and hands grasped onto my small food parcel whilst I still tried to make purchase on the branches of the old oak.
"You do realize I can still see you?"
Too preoccupied with trying to clamber up the tree I neglected to notice that a boy was staring straight at me, merely inches away from my face.
"Do you-"
Falling. Ouch. Fell from the meagre height I had managed to climb, the parcel slipped from my grasp. The sudden proximity of the stranger startled me and now I am flat on my back, the back which is now suddenly aching and my face burning in humiliation.
"Darn it." The tall boy looming over me mutters. "Sorry Kurt warned me about this, says I have no… tact." He says the word in a disjointed fashion as if testing it out. I am given the feeling he wasn't entirely sure what it meant. "-Or whatever."
Quickly as if trying to redeem himself he sticks out his hand in a gentle offer of help.
"Wh-who are you?" I splutter, wary but determined.
"Finn, Finn Hudson."
In response to this I give him a look, a look to communicate the fact that his name means nothing to me and that that wasn't the true nature of my question.
"Oh- um I'm Kurt's brother."
I eye the boy for a moment, still sprawled in an undignified manner on the ground, thinking to myself. This boy, who is so very tall, built like a Career Tribute and wearing a fairly vacant expression; is Kurt's brother? Coupling with the fact that Kurt has never even mentioned any siblings to me, and that this boy looks nothing like him, I am very sceptical of his claim. Doubt contorts my face and despite how dim this boy maybe he can still tell I am dubious.
"Oh no - not by blood, by law. He sent me here to give you this." He shakes an elegantly crafted cinnamon roll in his left hand, of which I am certain could only have been prepared by Kurt. At the sight of this I take his hand and with an abrupt firm grasp am pulled onto my feet.
We sat under the great old oak as the sun was setting as he explained about how Kurt was ill, and his determination for me to receive the cinnamon roll. I sat there listening to the boy as I slowly chewed away, and he spoke of the Hummel/Hudson household along with all the other things in which Kurt had neglected to tell me about his life in the poorer village. From that day on Finn was welcome at our evening picnics, he would only appear occasionally, but I found myself eagerly anticipating his presence and slowly this feeling became mutual. We were in love, at least what I believed was love.
We were together almost a year when the 72nd Reaping day rolled around; okay, ten months and eighteen days to be exact. I liked to keep track of these things because I had already mentally planned my future with Finn and wanted to be able to look back and count every perfect day I had spent with him. Finn on the other hand tended to find those sorts of things foolish and suffocating so I tried not to mention the fact I had already named our three future children, or that I had already chosen the house we were going to live in. I would have done anything for that boy. However at the time this didn't appear extreme or pathetic to me, as I was certain he felt the same; after all we were in love.
I had been dreading Reaping day for so long, with the knowledge of Finn's multiple reaping balls weighing in my mind - too many for just one person it seemed. I knew from the gnawing feeling in my chest that the odds were most definitely not in his favor. However all those sleepless nights when I had been worrying about Finn, I had neglected to give a second thought to my oldest and most loyal friend, Kurt.
There we stood lined up in a uniform manner in the courtyard; dressed in our best clothes, wearing our most hopeless expressions. I was hardly even paying attention as my eyes had glazed over and my mind played out endless scenarios of Finn's impending death in the arena. It was only when a girl began walking up to the stage and another girl began to sob beside me that I snapped back to reality.
"Now to choose our male tribute who will have the privilege- no the honor of representing District Eight at our 72ndAnnual Hunger Games!" Her hand with claw like nails, dips into the bowl before her then slowly brings the slip before her painted face- intentionally building the tension.
"Kurt Hummel."
I panic. I had not prepared for this outcome. It wasn't even an option in my mind. Delicate, skinny, beautiful Kurt wasn't the sort of person you see in the Hunger Games. Well not the sort of person you see make it past the Cornucopia- and then it dawned on me, Kurt was walking to his death.
A scream rips through me and suddenly Finn breaks through the crowds and is by my side, holding me.
Through my tears suddenly my mind flashes to the strong arms holding me. This boy, the one holding me, the one who initially struck me as similar to a Career Tribute he could definitely make it past the Cornucopia, in fact he could maybe even win.
"Finn, Finn!"
I push him back from me so I can look in his eyes.
"You have to volunteer."
I see his face crease in confusion, which frustrates me because we are running out of time and this was no moment for his trademark stupidity.
"Kurt won't make it in there for two seconds and you know it, but Finn you could actually win."
"Rachel, I can't believe you're asking me to do this, I thought you loved me and now you're choosing Kurt over me?"
I find this irrelevant. I'm not choosing, I'm just being realistic.
"He's your brother!"
Finn looks hard at me now, his eyes cold.
"Not by blood."