Chapter One

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- DISTRICT 3 : THE REAPING -

… From the Treaty of Treason:

In penance for their uprising, each District shall offer up a male and female between the ages of twelve and eighteen, at a public Reaping.

These tributes, shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol,
and then transferred to a public arena where they will fight to the death,
until a lone Victor remains.

Henceforth and forevermore, this pageant shall be known as:

The Hunger Games

The sky was greying considerably, and I could sniff out the small scent of rain in the distance. It wasn't going to be a good day. Especially, with the events that were to proceed within an hour. I sat outside, hiding among the plants of the garden that situated itself in the backyard of my home. I was comfortable seated on a small patch of green grass and I pulled at the strands idly. Briefly lifting my gaze to stare at the darkening sky, I tried to distract myself from the butterflies that fluttered about my stomach. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, however, I'm sure I wasn't the only one who felt like this. The Reaping, commenced today. It was to be my last one, considering I'd be turning nineteen in less than a year. But that did little to deter my constant need to be sick.

I could hear a slight commotion from within the house, I ignored it. I needed a few moments to myself, even if it wasn't for long. I pulled my knees to my chest, and sighed slightly. I had been hoping for a more, cheery day. But a dull, almost lifeless one, seemed more fitting. I glanced at the watch on my wrist, and felt myself deflate further. Almost half past eleven, time I got ready for the Reaping. I pushed myself up and onto my knees, before I rose to my feet, I grunted at the action. The entire process of moving, felt awfully taxing. It just added to my more, sour mood. With heavy feet, I walked back toward my home.

As soon as I opened the door, I could hear my mother yelling out slight profanities about small things which hadn't been done. My little brother, James, ran past me as I emerged from the back door, almost running into me. He came to a halt in front of me, fumbling around with a few clothes in his arms.

"Eh, Millie, could you iron this for me?" He asked suddenly, thrusting a white collared at me.

I clutched onto the pristine fabric and raised an eyebrow, "Why can't you? Mum's showed you enough times, already."

James merely shrugged in response, "Just do it, please? I still have to find my shoes."

Sighing, I nodded my head and shoved him in the direction of his room, "You owe me, then."

Promising me anything and everything, James hurried off to find the rest of his outfit; he shouted out a thank you from over his shoulder, before he hurried around the corner and was out of sight.

I walked toward the main room, and found my mother bustling about aimlessly. Her hair was pulled into a sloppy bun, and she was half dressed. She fussed over my sister's hair, attempting to plait it into a perfect braid.

As soon as I was in the room, she called out to me. "Amelia! C'mere, I need a hand, please."

I approached slowly, and dropped James' shirt upon the ironing board. I leant over and shoved my hand through the entanglement of hair and grasped a few stray strands of hair. "Did you want me to finish the rest of this?" I asked my mother, whilst nodding to my sister's hair, "Give you a chance to get ready."

She visibly relaxed, and went to finish the braid. "I'll be okay, for now, thank you Why don't you focus on getting dressed yourself?"

"James asked me to iron his shirt, I'll get ready in a minute."

She waved me off, and gently pushed me to the side. "It's okay, I'll do that. I bought you a new dress for today, it's sitting on your bed. I hope you like it."

"... What colour is it?"

"Black,"

"Then I'll love it, for sure." I assured her.

She smiled at my words, then became serious. "Go get dressed, now."

I nodded, and made my way to my bedroom. My room, was impeccably plain. The only extravagant thing I only really had, was a glowing lamp, which resided beside my bed. It was something my father had made me a while back, when I had trouble sleeping at night. The lamp changed colours every now and thing, it was a nice contrast to my dark room.

The dress, my mother had told me of, was noticed easily. It was rather simple; strapless and soft to the touch. It seemed like it was made out of some satin-like material, I wasn't sure. I slipped it on, and continued to finger the fabric, the dress stopped just above my knee. It might not be appealing to most, but I liked it. Atop the dress, I wore an overly large grey knit cardigan; which I complimented with black ballet flats. I looked at myself in the mirror, and did whatever I could do to my hair, it never sat the way I wanted it to. It unnerved me, to no end.

As I stood, staring at my reflection, a dry thought came to me. It looked as if I were attending a funeral, and I suppose I was. A pre-funeral, of some sort. Either it was going to my pre-funeral, or someone else's, I still found humour within this thought process. A knock, sounded from my bedroom door, and I called out for whoever it was, to come on in.

Bella, my sister, walked into the room; her hair was finally finished, and she wore a pale pink dress, this year. I always thought pale colours suited her better, but she always wanted to live flamboyantly like the Capitol. She thought the fashion there was 'stunning' and something she'd like to take part in. Her wardrobe, consisted of disgusting attire with bright coloured fabrics and themes. I always bagged her out on her wannabe look, but, to each their own. Bella situated herself upon my bed, and she crossed her legs. She smiled up at me, but I could tell she was just as nervous as I was.

"You look nice," She started, her voice was a little shaky, I pretended not to notice.

"You actually look human, for once." I countered, almost childishly.

Bella huffed, and I could see my comment annoyed her. "Be nice, I don't say anything about how boring your clothes are."

I laugh lamely in response, "A'right then, I'll stop, for now."

Rolling her eyes, Bella looked down at her fingers and played idly with her nails. "... Are you nervous?" She asked meekly.

"Hm? Of course I'm nervous," I started, "But it'll be okay. There's nothing to worry about, we'll glide through this Reaping like we always do."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm not, it's called having a little faith." I started, "We'll be okay."

Bella nodded her head, and went quite. Every year, we always have a similar conversation, I suppose my reassurance gave her a piece of mind. Bella's only a few months younger than me. Another year and a bit, and she'll never have to worry about the Reaping ever again.

I sighed, and sat down beside her. "Everything will work out just fine, Bell. There's no need to worry. Just, be optimistic."

"I'm just," She sighed, "I know I won't make it through the first night of the Games, if I get called... I'm not a killer, and I could never kill anyone, regardless if it was to save my own life. I'm not like that."

"That's something you should never have to think about, because it'll never happen."

"What if the odds aren't in my favour? I don't think I could handle it."

"No one can, really. It's a bullshit event, that we're forced to comply with. It's completely inhuman," I took a moment, to let my words sink in. "If you've something or someone to live for, you fight for another chance to see them again. Regardless if you lose, let your loved ones be your determination. Besides, Dad's made these awesome simulators, which will give you some leeway in the Games. 'Bout time you started using them, don't you think?"

Bella shrugged at my words, "I wish things were different. I want children, some day. But I won't be able to, because I could never subject them to this life. It's not fair, all of this isn't fucking fair."

"Hey, now." I raised my hand, and grasped Bella's shoulder. I squeezed it reassuringly, "Currently? There's nothing we can do, other than do as we're told and keep our heads down. For now? Things are hard, and dangerous. But that'll all change, soon enough. Whether it be in our lifetime, or another. Panem won't stand for the Hunger Games for much longer. I'm sure of it."

Bella looked past me, rather than directly at me. As if she were in deep thought, staring off into space idly. I leant forward and gave her a one armed hug, "I think it's about time we headed downstairs, don't you think?"

She tensed at my words, "I don't want to go."

I smiled slightly, and sighed at her words. "I know, Bella. But we have to."

I rose to my feet, and pulled my sister up with me in the process. I took one last glance at my room, before I ushered her out; closing the door behind me, I followed her downstairs. Mum was gushing over James, doing up his tie for him as he slipped on his shoes, it was amusing to watch; and I suddenly wished Dad was here, to chastise James for being slack. The thought of my father, made me suddenly feel homesick, even though I was at home. He was never around these days, always off travelling or inventing another appliance of some sort. I couldn't really classify him as a father, any more.

"Why is Dad never here before the Reaping?" I questioned aloud, fully well knowing the answer.

"Because he's helping set things up, for the ceremony." Mum replied apprehensively, "We'll see him when we arrive, don't worry."

I sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time today. "M'kay, then. I'm going to start making my way to the courtyard, I'll see you there."

I walked out of the house, and travelled slowly down the front path. The town was relatively quiet, as made my way to the town centre. Other residents were leaving their homes, chastely making their way throughout the vicinity; walking like dogs with their tails in between their legs. The occasional Peacekeeper, littered the street, probably making sure that there weren't to be any loiters. The Reaping was a compulsory event, if you weren't there at the scheduled time, you might as well be asking for a swift death wish.

I reached the end of my street, and nearly tripped when I began to cross the road, life within District 3 isn't near as luxurious as living in District 1 and District 2. But we had our technology, and were significantly better off than most of the other Districts. Our homes were better structured, from what I've heard, and we were never lacking food. These sort of things made me feel somewhat bad for the poorer Districts, such as District 11 and District 12. But, there wasn't much time for sympathy, we were all fighting for our lives here.

As soon as I reached the path that would directly lead me to the courtyard, where the Reaping would commence, my three closest friends appeared. Jenelle Kerry, was a rather curvaceous girl, with curly red hair; she greeted me as soon as she saw me. Kathleen Boherty, was a girl a year younger than me, she always followed Jenelle around as if she were a lost puppy; she treated me fairly, and was someone I could always find an awkward silence with. Lastly, Sabrina Hanson approached me. I grew up with Sabrina, we weren't introduced on the best of terms and I remember flatly despising her. Somehow, she had managed to grow on me throughout the years we've been together, I'm particularly fond of her, now.

I greeted them, when they fell into step beside me. We passed a few compliments about our appearances, here and there; and idle chit-chat arose.

Jenelle was the first to start conversation, "Who do you think will get picked?" Jenelle asked, piquing everyone's interest.

I raised an eyebrow at her question, "That's a horrid topic to talk about. Jenelle, when did you become so daft?"

"I hope it's that ghastly bitch, Samantha." Sabrina jeered, completely shutting out my remark. "I'd like to see how she'd fare in the arena,"

"I just hope it's not me," Kathleen muttered, "I hope it's not any of us."

"We all have a fifty percent chance at being picked," I started, "Everyone does. It's what makes this entire thing 'exciting' I suppose."

"What's so exciting about watching kids kill each other? That's fucking barbaric."

"Maybe the Capitol find it kinky?"

"Sabrina, that's disgusting. Aren't you supposed to be the innocent friend?"

I laughed at my friend's playful banter, it was a great distraction from everything that was about to commence.

"Alright then, which guy would you like to see picked as tribute?" Jenelle started, again with the crude topic.

A few seconds of silence, followed Jenelle's question. Kathleen was the first to answer.

"I really don't want Austin to be selected, that'd break my heart."

Sabrina narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. "... Josh. I never liked his red hair, and that sarcastic smirk of his. I hope he gets picked."

"So, Josh and Samantha battle it out alongside twenty-two other tributes. Will the odds be in their favour? I don't think so."

We all cackled as if we were mad, the entire conversation was disrespectful and outlandishly rude. But we didn't care, it was just how we were. That's what I liked about my friends, they understood my dry sense of humour, and were quick to counter it with their own. There were hardly any people like that, within District 3. I didn't feel so alone, when I was with my small group of friends.

We arrived promptly at the courtyard, and the atmosphere between the group and the people around me had changed drastically. I noticed things were a little more different than usual. The first thing I noticed, were that there were twice as many Peacekeepers loitering about and every single one of them had a weapon of some sort. The second thing I took note of, were two large desks with two officials sitting behind them. They were forcing a line, and people were being sorted into groups alongside people their own age. Sabrina, Jenelle and I looked toward Kathleen somewhat worriedly. Being a year younger, it would seem that Kathleen would not be able to stand with us, this year.

"I best be on my way, then." Kathleen whispered, before hurrying off toward her designated area. A little too quickly, but who was I to say anything.

I waved Kathleen off, and went to take my position in line; Jenelle and Sabrina following suit after me. All of a sudden, everything seemed to feel a lot heavier. I felt nauseous, and my stomach cramped with anticipation. I really did not want to be here, I wanted to be at home, within the confines of my room. The armed Peacekeepers did not help, when they walked past me. I eyed their guns warily, and the intense urge to vomit, hit me. I leant over to the side of the line, and gagged. The stressful situation already taking its toll on me.

Sabrina patted my back reassuringly, and helped me straighten myself. She was just as nervous as me, I could tell, and my complete hysteria wasn't helping her that much.

"... Sorry," I sighed, rocking back and forth on my heels. "I don't know why I'm so nervous, it's killing me."

I was only a mere three people behind, before I would be at the start of the line. My nausea returned.

"Maybe it's because you're so close to becoming nineteen," Sabrina offered, "You're almost at the finish line where you will be completely safe. Yet, today, there is still that small chance that you'll be selected. I'm feeling the same, hun. Try and be optimistic, pessimism won't help your situation. You'll only panic further."

"That's easier said, than done."

Sabrina shrugged, "That's the only advice I can offer, at current."

Before I could respond, I was called to attention by the official sitting behind the desk. A large sheet of paper was splayed in front of him, and a small device was held tightly within the palm of his hand. The official wore a mask, much like the ones the Peacekeepers wore, however his uniform was a different colour. He lifted his free hand, motioning for me to step forward. I did as I was told, and watched as the official grasped my left arm tightly before pressing the device he held against my forefinger. I felt a small prick of pain, and I yelped in surprise. Before I could pull my hand back to assess the damage., the official pressed my finger against the sheet of paper. My blood print leaving a mark underneath a sectioned area. The man released my hand, and I was escorted to the far back of the courtyard, where I was to stand and wait.

Whispers, echoed idly throughout the courtyard as District 3 stood in hushed silence. The intense atmosphere was suffocating. The only comfort provided was the simple warm breeze, which blew about and sent hair spiralling into a mess.

The layout for the Reaping, was slightly more extravagant than usual. Banners littered the far walls, a small stage was set up near the front of the growing crowd. Eligible tributes, were sorted into age groups, something that was newly introduced. A large projector, beamed brightly toward the wall behind the stage, to which was covered with a sheer material. The light emitted from the technology, bore a small message.

May the odds, be ever in your favour.

I swallowed back the bile rising within my throat. This feeling was nothing new to me, but I was nervous nonetheless. I hated this yearly ritual. Two tributes were to be selected from twelve different districts, six boys and six girls, their ages, varying between twelve and eighteen years old. Hardly fair, but I wasn't going to say as such.

I stood, somewhat secluded from everyone else around me. My friends did nothing to interrupt my silence, they were just as anxious as I was. I lifted my gaze, and turned my head to find the faces of my family. My sister, stood a few lines in front of me. My brother, stood at the opposite side of the courtyard, I could hardly see him from my position. My mother, was standing amongst the other parents, my father nowhere to be seen. My stomach churned with anticipation. We were all vulnerable to this twisted game, regardless if we liked it, or not. I closed my eyes, and waited. This would all be over soon.

Surely enough, District 3's representative, Stacy Bourne, bounded onto the stage with immense enthusiasm. Her high-pitched voice, cackled madly as she shook hands with the Mayor of our small town. Stacy, had a bleached complexion, which was complimented by streaming ringlets of iridescent blue hair. The Capitol, always had a bizarre fashion trend, it never seized to amaze me. The absurd amounts of make-up alongside their coloured hair and tainted skin... Those that came from the Capital, looked nothing more than well dressed, ill-mannered pigs.

After pleasant greetings were given and received, Stacy approached the microphone, which stood appropriately in the centre of the stage, she gripped the handle tightly and smiled; exposing bright, white teeth.

"Hello and welcome! Happy Hunger Games and, may the odds be ever in your favour." Her Capitol accent filled the crowd, and a pang of ice struck me. The drawl, was impeccably plain, but still somewhat malicious.

"Now then~" Stacy breathed, "As you know, I am to select one man and woman to partake in the honourable role of competing in this years Hunger Games."

District 3 was deathly silent, as their attention was focused entirely on the woman in front of them.

Stacy grinned widely, and leant back from the microphone slightly. "As is tradition, ladies first."

I held my breath, this was the moment I had been dreading for some time now. It was time to watch someone face their inevitable fate and proclaim the life destined for them. The life that was going to be forced upon them. Eyes watched helplessly, as Stacy skipped toward the left side of the stage, her hands diving within the confines of a glass bowl; which held the names of every eligible female within the district.

Once Stacy had a firm grip on a slip of paper, she plucked it from the bowl and trotted back toward the microphone. Quietly, she waited awhile, as if to add suspense, before she unfolded the pristine parchment and surveyed the scrawl written upon it. Five mere seconds passed, before Stacy cleared her throat and called out:

"Amelia, Pearsall."

… Fuck.

I froze as the name echoed throughout the crowd; before I could even blink, my friends were screaming insanely as they gripped onto me tightly. They smothered me with tight embraces, and littered my cheeks with small kisses. I couldn't function properly, all I could so was stand there, dumbfounded. I didn't even move, when the Peacekeepers pushed their way through the crowd to collect me. I stared, wide-eyed as my friends intertwined themselves around me, begging and crying. I was chosen? The same three words bounced around my head, I knew what they meant, but currently? They weren't making any sense, I could feel myself panicking.

I did nothing when I was pulled away from the people I had grown up with, I didn't respond when they called my name. There was nothing they could do, to emit any valid response from me. I just didn't think this whole situation was real, it couldn't be real. This was my last year of being eligible for the Reaping, surely the odds would be in my favour!

The crowd dispersed as I made my way toward the stage, aside from my friends screaming hysterically in the background alongside my family, everything was deathly silent. It was intimidating.

I found myself, standing beside Stacy. She cooed over me, and pinched my cheeks, before gathering me under her arms and guiding me toward the microphone. She asked a few questions, to which I promptly ignored, she congratulated me on my achievement and asked if there were any volunteers. There were none. Who would stupidly volunteer to take on the role of tribute?

I stood idly, not sure what to do with myself, as Stacy waddled to the far right of the stage to call out the male tribute, who I would have to fight with. Stacy's hand, fished throughout the glass bowl of male names. She took her time selecting a slip of paper, and this action only irritated me. I inhaled deeply, and looked out to the crowd, still unsure of what to do with myself.

After a few slow seconds, Stacy's fingertips finally retrieved a slip of paper, and she unfolded it as she made her way back toward the microphone. She smiled widely, and leant forward, pressing her mouth against the device as she sung out the name of the male tribute.

"... Dex, Dambry."

It felt like my whole world had come crashing down. I felt my breath hitch in my throat, and I clenched my fists tightly. Dex Dambry was somebody whom everyone liked. He was charismatic, somewhat attractive, and he also had good work ethic. He used to work for my father and Dex took a liking to the training simulators my father world make. The simulators, were namely for the Capitol to train their Peacekeepers, and they were also shipped to District 1 and also to District 2. The simulators, were programmed to train those that were willing to lean how to defend for themselves; they were extremely useful and were a big hit throughout Panem. My family profited from them, immensely. It was through this, that I meet Dex. We had a lot of things in common, and we became good friends fairly quickly. Soon enough, we dated.

My family were particularly fond of Dex, and they were happy for our relationship. Dex was a first for a lot of things for me, and I relied on him heavily. However, he turned out to be nothing but a user. Whilst he was working, Dex would take information and codes from my fathers inventions. He would make prototypes with this information, and claimed all the credit for himself. He robbed my family of the only thing that supported us. As soon as we found out, Dex was fired and I never associated myself with him, after that. I scarcely saw him throughout town, and I forgot about him eventually.

Funnily enough, my eyes instantly find Dex within the crowd, and I watched him carefully. His blue eyes, are filled with absolute confusion, I suppose you can't really blame him. Dex turns nineteen in less than two weeks, he's rather unfortunate, it seems. Aside from the confusion, Dex manages to handle the entire ordeal rather well. Unlike me, he doesn't need the Peacekeepers to shove him toward the stage, he manages to make his way up here on his own.

In hindsight, his collectivity makes me feel somewhat inferior. These Reaping's are recorded, anyone and everyone is allowed to view them, whenever. Including the tributes who I will be fighting with. From my Reaping alone, they will be able to size me up. They'll have slight intake on my personality, and will be able to draw my strengths and weaknesses from that.

As Dex approached the stage, he never once lifted his gaze to me. I rolled my eyes at this, and waited idly as Stacy worked with the usual routine. She asked a little bit about Dex, and he replied nonchalantly. No one volunteered for him, which was nothing new.

I watched, and waited for the events that would follow after the Reaping. I wasn't too sure of the details, but from what I knew, I would be carted to the Capitol as soon as I stepped off of this stage. It upset me that I wouldn't have the time to say goodbye to those that I had become fond of. But such is, the glory of the Hunger Games.

My small reverie was cut off, when Stacy approached me. She gripped onto my right arm tightly, before yanking me toward the centre of the stage, toward Dex. Stacy grasped Dex's left arm, before lifting them up, triumphantly cheering.

"Ladies and gentlemen, here are your tributes for the 41st Annual Hunger Games!"

At these actions, I lifted my eyes to stare wonderingly at my arm, which was held high above the rest. However, when I lowered my gaze, my eyes found Dex's.

And it was at that moment, where my whole world came crashing down all over again.

Authors Note: I do not own anything, aside from the characters which I have created alongside a friend of mine. I intend to post a new chapter regularly.