Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games
Chapter One
"Primrose Everdeen!"
The name seems to ring throughout the square, the girls separating from near me. It doesn't even sink in until the Peacekeepers are marching towards me. Silent tears fill my eyes, because I know how Katniss must be feeling, I know it's killing her to see me walk up to the stage and stand besides Effie Trinket. I know it's killing her that I'm being sent to my death, because she can't volunteer now that she's already won the 74th Hunger Games. I look around at those around me, all of them with saddened expressions. Nobody will volunteer for me, no bonds go so far- with the exception of Katniss and I- when it comes to the Games.
My eyes dart to Katniss, who stands holding our mother with tears streaking down her face. I gulp back a sob at the sight, knowing that I'm going to die. It's almost inevitable. I'm fourteen years old, and... I just want my big sister. I don't even want our mother; I just want to be held by Katniss as she sings calming melodies, soothing my troubles. I look to the stage that Effie stands at, waiting with a pained look on her face. After Katniss' games, I've gotten to know her, gotten to know what a nice woman she actually is when she's not shrilling about a schedule.
It was with some trepidation that I stepped forward, reaching behind me to tuck the tail of my shirt in, knowing that I need to look strong.
As I take my place beside Effie, a Peacekeeper walks over to her, handing her a card and whispering in her ear. I see her gulp, and a stray tear escapes her eye as she reads the card. My heart beats faster, dread setting in.
"Yes, well, as the 75th Hunger Games, there will be a new twist!" she clears her throat quickly, but continues, "To show that even the strongest of Panem can be weak, with each name drawn, a Victor shall accompany the tribute into the arena-" she pulls away from the microphone and turns away from the audience for the slightest moment before wiping her nose and turning back, clearing her throat yet again. "Shall accompany the tribute into the arena," she starts again, "To guide them as mentors, to fight with-and if it comes down to their decision- against their tributes. Only two may win."
My heart stops, and I see Katniss part from the crowd of bystanders, already striding to the stage, her face void of emotion, but her eyes speak for her. Anger, sorrow, pain, horror, fear, anxiety; I can see each of her emotions in her eyes.
I want to cry out, I want to cry no, but I can't. I know how important this is, being televised to those that we'll be faced against. Any weaknesses shown now will automatically turn to a disadvantage on our part. Katniss has taught me quite a bit since she's come back.
I feel numb as Effie calls a boy named Stirling Handom, a buff eighteen-year old from the Seam with a stone-hard face. I feel nothing but anguish as she calls Haymitch's name, and remorse when Peeta volunteers in his place.
As Peeta takes place with reddened eyes on the right of Katniss, she grabs frantically for his hand, the only sign that she's a wreck internally.
I squeeze her hand back as she wrings ours together, and I can't help but think;
The odds are never in our favor.
I hope everybody likes this! Feedback is appreciated, good or bad! What do you think about this twist? I may turn this into an actual story, but for now, it's a one-shot. Do you think I should make it a story?
~Burritoyum