I Won't Say His Name
Summary- She doesn't like crying. Because it's just a weakness. But she does it anyway. Because she can't stop herself. So when her friend goes into the hunger games…and it isn't just any friend it's…the guy, that every girl looks for…so yeah, when he goes into the games, there's a whole lot of crying.
Chapter 1 – A Not-so Wonderful Life
Blossom trees. Like the ones that Old mindless Mark paints. I feel sorry for Mark, I really do. No-one's there to give him tessarae, but that's not his fault. It's no-one's fault that Milly died when she was 4 months pregnant. It's no-one's fault that Mark grew old, not daring to love anyone else.
But apparently, it's me and my ancestors who get blamed for the biggest torment that life can throw at anyone.
The Hunger Games
What's the point of that stupid propo at the start of the reaping? I mean, seriously, like anyone's goanna believe that it's their fault that 23 people will die in the following weeks to come.
I seriously think with all my head –my heart had no part in this because hearts are only useful when it comes to keeping you alive- that one day this will all be gone. The arenas. The stupid Capitol people with their stupid rainbow wigs. By the way, what is up with them? They're always acting like they're having the time of their lives and it's like…is life really that great? You can bear to watch innocent children probably as young as your own get slaughtered?
But yeah, one day this will definitely end, because I know it will. It's like one of those chills. A Feeling In Your Bones. But yeah, according to Brandy (the popular girl at school) I'm just a 'crazy anti-social freak' so you don't have to listen to me. But, geez, Brandy is like, the needles that you sit on, that stupid picking-their-nose kid sitting on the naughty step. Sometimes, it's just like, why? Yeah, she's pretty, your like, ohmigod you are amazing! But then she's like, oh you didn't have to say I already knew. There's no point to being snarky in a place like this. District 4 won't give you any favours. When you're 19, you can relax a little, you know, cause The Hunger Games isn't a threat to you individually anymore. Then you have kids. What then? You're going to worry about them.
*REAPING DAY*
I wake up with a jolt. "HARRY, GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" I yell at my 8 year old brother.
"Why? I was waking you up! You weren't waking up!"
"That isn't a reason to throw milk over me! Go and explain to mum why we won't have any left for this weekend's breakfast. NOW!"
Not that was a problem for me. I hated oatmeal. Without milk I have an excuse for the 'I'll pass, thanks'.
Then Taylor, my older (19-year-old) sister walks in as Harry runs out.
"Tough morning, Bails?"
"Were you expecting it not to be or something?" I hate it how she calls me Bails. It's Bailey. Full stop.
"Just trying to make it easier."
"How can it be any easier? Be realistic, Taylor, please, for once. Don't be like mum or dad. I'm 16. I have three reapings left to face. Don't act like it's all ok."
"I got through all my reapins remember?"
"Yeah, well a lot of people do. And you took less tessarae then me. When I turned twelve more of the tessarae was put on my side because I had less chances of being picked. How is that fair? When you turned twelve, you got tessarae for you, me, mum, dad and chloe. I have to do it for all those and Harry. And I've got no-one to share it with!"
"You've got Chloe!"
"I don't want to be like you! I don't want to put the weight onto a twelve year old! Get out now!" She storms out. I get dressed into an elegant, flowy, pale pink dress. On the hem and sleeves me and mum sewed on lace roses. She did most of it of course, since I was eleven at the time. Chloe walks in.
"Don't make me shout at you too."
"I want to get there early, it's my first reaping. I can't take breakfast."
"Neither can I, but are you sure you want to leave…early?" When I was twelve, I was far from ready, let alone eager.
"Let's go."
"Ok, ok, you're choice…let's see how pretty you are. Come into the light." She stepped gingerly next to the window and I took in her daintiness. Her buttercup yellow dress had a thin frame but was baggy on her. It looked all wrong. But she liked it because it was the only yellow thing in her wardrobe. (hint, yellows her favourite colour and always has been.) "You look wonderful! Twirl for me darling." I said the last bit in a capitol accent and she giggled as she twirled. The dress was absolutely hideous. But I didn't care. Not today. Maybe when she's older I can teach her how to choose clothes properly.
"Let's hurry. I want to be there before it's too crowded."
"Your wish is my command."