A/N: Hi,guys. I just wanted to say that this is my first fanfic, so please go easy on me and forgive any of my mistakes. Enjoy and please review if you have got the time!
Broken Dam, Broken Life, Broken Mind.
Chapter 1: The Reaping
The metal plate rises, sixty seconds on the clock. I look around, taking half of my precious time to survey my sorroundings. Thirty seconds. I position my feet towards the Cornucopia. The gong sounds and I race forward. I am ahead of most of the others, and I reach the weapons first. Grabbing a spear I swiftly turn to face my enemies.A manic scream grabs my attention and I turn to face the monstrous boy racing towards me. My spear is useless at this range and I can do nothing but scream as he raises his sword and brings it down in a flash of silver. I flinch, my eyes closed, waiting for the end-and wake with a gasp. My heart takes a moment to slow and I have to keep reminding myself that I am okay, not in the arena, not about to die. My sweat-soaked sheets are tangled around my legs, a sure sign that I had been writhing uncontrollably in my sleep. I get up and dress, my heart still fluttering weakly, knowing that it's pointless trying to get back to sleep. Not after that. I prepare for the big day.
After dressing, I head for the beach. It's only a couple of minutes from my house on foot. I strip to my underwear and float in the calm water, thinking of past Hunger Games and this year's Tributes. I have no siblings, so I have only my friends and myself to worry about. These thoughts begin to upset me so I dress quickly and head back to the house. My dad is awake by the time I get home and I prepare breakfast for both of us. We eat and clean up silently and finally, as he sits and reads his newspaper and I fiddle with my hair nervously, he speaks, 'Annie, honey, do you want to talk about anything, the Reaping?' I swallow and my voice comes out a worried croak. 'Dad, it's just -I'm- I'm so nervous about the Reaping!' He opens his arms and I hug him tightly. He strokes my hair and whispers soothingly in my ear. 'Everything is going to be fine, Annie. Don't worry.' Even though these are empty promises, they reassure me slightly and I feel better. With only a few hours left before we have to leave I dress. I tie my hair back into a french plait with a ribbon. I'm ready. I sit and try to will away the hours until the Reaping.
My dad and I reach the District Square at ten to two. We hug briefly, before I move off to the fifteen-year old's section. I stand beside my best-and only- friend, Emily, and try to ignore the camera crews that hover like flies on a beached whale. At exactly two o'clock the Mayor takes to the stage and begins to recite the dreary Treaty of Treason. I zone out, instead thinking of the Reaping sphere and how many of those little, neatly folded pieces of paper bear my name. I'm fifteen, so only four. I'm lucky I don't have to take Tesserae, my Dad and I aren't rich, but, we're a lot better off then most people, especially in non-Career Districts. Finally the Mayor leaves and our escort, Bacchus Vin, takes her place. For once he is almost sober, and doesn't fall or embarrass himself and the whole District in front of the whole of Panem. He welcomes us all and, in a slightly slurred voice, wishes us good luck and a happy Hunger Games. I stare at him in disgust. How hard is it not to get drunk for the most important event of the year? Not only is he disgracing himself, but, every single person who lives in District 4! He makes his slow, unstable way to the boy's Reaping sphere. 'Now for our boy tribute! It does start with the boys doesn't it...?' He trails off uncertainly. The mayor hides her blush behind a sheet of hair as the crowd and camera crew titter. The cameras track every second of her embarrassment. Bacchus continues hastily. 'Yes, District 4's male tribute is...' Bacchus roots around in the sphere for a few seconds before extracting a small, white piece of paper. He pauses for effect. 'Ashkr Beech!' The crowd applauds as a small, skinny, dark-haired boy stumbles forward. I am taken aback by how young and vulnerable he looks. My instinct is to protect this tiny twelve-year old. I glare at the applauders and at Bacchus. How dare he choose a child? Then I notice something strange. I lean over to Emily and mutter, 'How come no-one's volunteered?' One of the best things about living in a Career District is that there are almost always people there willing to take your place. Idiots who are glad to go into the arena and fight to the death, for the honour of being a Victor. She looks as confused as I am when she whispers back, 'Dunno, maybe there are no Volunteers this year'. She shrugs and I frown. No Volunteers? This hardly ever happens. My sympathy for Ashkr and our-soon-to be-Reaped female tribute grows. Ashkr is on the stage now, shaking hands with Bacchus. He then stands awkwardly on his own as Bacchus moves to the female Reaping sphere. I hear Emily muttering beside me, 'Please not me, please not me.' I copy her. 'Please don't pick me, anyone but me. Please, please...' And it won't be me, it can't be. Just like Dad said, everything is going to be fine. Four slips, four out of thousands. I'm safe, I'm fine... Bacchus has chosen the name. 'And our female tribute is...' He unfolds the paper slowly. He clears his throat before announcing, 'ANNIE CRESTA!'
Oh f**k.
I'm dead.