I wake up, covered in cold sweat. Another nightmare. I was expecting it, but the blood still pulses through my ears as I remember my dream, two girls chasing me, catching me in a net and slicing away my body parts whilst they grin down at me, blood dripping from their teeth.
Of course I would dream about the Hunger Games, because today is my first reaping.
I lay in bed for another five minutes, staring at a crack in the wall, before rousing myself and getting dressed. I will change into smarter clothes later, but I need to get to Greasy Sae and deliver her some of the dandelions I found in the meadow for the soup which we will prepare later this afternoon for the families who have lost their children. I walk into the kitchen and open a cupboard, empty only excepting a handful of grain and a hunk of bread.
"Prim, I already made you some breakfast" Mother calls from behind me. True to her word, a piece of bread sits on the table, spread with a layer of goopy rice paste. But I ignore it and rush into her arms, tears threatening to make an appearance. She clings to me tightly and the holds me at arm's length. She studies my face for a moment, and then releases me. I push back my emotions, kiss her on the cheek, grab the bread and my dandelions and leave the house.
It doesn't take long until I enter into the Hob. I can still remember the first time I went in there. I was nine, and mother and I were on the brink of starvation after the death of my father. I was nearly delirious and wandered aimlessly around the Hob, looking for anything, anything which we could eat. Then I had felt a cold hand on my shoulder. Peacekeepers. They were almost going to take me away, take me to the horrible community home, when Greasy Sae had come to my rescue. She fed me up with steamy hot carrot and wild dog stew, and sent me home with some for mother, not before offering me a job of cutting up all her vegetables for her stews. It was hard work, but eventually I got better and better with a knife, and that was how we had survived, mother and I.
So now I entered the Hob. Even though I am young, I am respected, because I work for Greasy Sae, who most people from the seam have respect for.
"Hi Sae", I greet her with a false smile. I pass her the dandelions and she smiles a toothy grin down on me.
"Hey Prim, you ready?" she asks, bustling about behind the counter.
"I-I guess" I say, uncertainly. Which is the truth. Am I ready? I shake the thought away. Of course not. How could anybody be ready?
She seems to see behind my fake smile and swoops me up into a hug. She pours me a mug of steamy hot chocolate and I sit behind the counter, chatting to her. It's pretty quiet in the Hob, but Greasy Sae has business to do. Once I have finished my hot chocolate, I say goodbye and she wishes me luck.
When I get back to the house, I see that mother has laid out a white shirt and tan trousers for me. I slip them on, and look at myself in the mirror. I look young, fragile, and very, very scared, which I am. I tuck in the back of my shirt, and walk out of the bedroom and face my mother. She smiles and takes my hand and we walk to the Square. I am separated from my mother and sign in. Afterwards, I take my place in the 12 year olds pen and face the justice building.
Effie Trinket trots onto the stage and welcomes us to the 74th Annual Hunger Games. She smiles down at us, coated in her freakish makeup. "And may the odds be ever in your favour" she squeaks. I wince just listening to her. She's just like a plucked chicken I think, smiling at the thought, but then my face hardens and she walks towards the girls ball and picks out a name.
I close my eyes and pray. Please. Let it not be me. I only have one slip in there, we get by fine enough on my wages from working in the hob.
Effie plasters on a smile and shouts the name clearly and crisply.
"Primrose Everdeen"
My eyes snap open. Oh God. My knees start to tremble. I was one of thousands! How could this have happened?
I knit my eyebrows together and focus on getting to the stage. I feel sick, and my knees tremble at I walk up the steps. Effie clutches at my arm and pulls me over to the side. The audience mumur to eachother. How is this fair?
I am in a daze, but I snap back into focus as effie draws out a boys name.
"Kyle Targouda"
I don't recognise the name, but a boy from the 15 pen steps out. He has blond hair cut short, and a pale face. At first I think he's a merchant boy, but as he takes tentative steps up to the stage, I see his darker skin and chestnut eyes. Effie tells us to shake hands and we do. He smiles sympathetically at me, clearly believing I wont last a day.
We are escorted into the justice building to say our final goodbyes, and as we leave I think about the boy and frown. I don't need his sympathy. I need to come back. For mother.