I love The Hunger Games, but sadly I worry that I won't be able to represent my favorite character in the way I'd want to. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy this. Also, I may have changed some details for the sake of storytelling sorry.

I DON'T OWN THE HUNGER GAMES

Chapter 1: The Reaping

"Haymitch…..Haymitch…wake up, we're going to be late"

I let out a groan and hate my little brother for always waking up earlier than me just to stop me from ever getting a good night's sleep, as if I didn't already have a mother for that.

I don't have to see to know that Cal is staring at me, probably holding a sweater and a pair of pants as usual. When I open my eyes, I am temporarily blinded by the bright sunlight and nearly fall off my bed, I hear Cal giggle at his fool of a brother.

I pull the blanket over my head and try to get at least five more minutes of sleep, but I am too late, as he grabs my pillow and yanks it from beneath my head. I painfully bang my sleep deprived head on the hard mattress and lay there, admitting defeat once again.

"I hate you" I say with a smile.

"I know" he says, smiling back.

I look at him before he leaves and I can't help but think that he's grown so much during the five years after our father died. He's only ten years old, and still he seems to be more mature than I ever could hope to be.

As I get out of bed I look at the photo our family took the day before the mine collapsed on our father and find myself wishing he were still here.

I shake my head and tell myself to concentrate. I pull on my usual pants and sweater and head to the kitchen, expecting my mother to throw a pot lid at me for waking up so late; I walk around looking for her until I see what's on the kitchen table. On the table are a large bowl of soup, a loaf of bread, and a slab of meat with vegetables and fruits. I stare at it, hoping someone would explain the sudden feast we were having this morning. I hear the front door open and I quickly turn to see my mother walk in with a large pile of laundry.

"Woken up, haven't you?" She says, not even looking at me.

"What's with the feast? You know we can't afford something like this!" I exclaim.

She turns to me and gives me a stern look as she walks towards me. Half expecting a blow to the back of the head I wince in anticipation. But she lowers her laundry down and gives me a hug.

I stand there awkwardly, my hands still over my head, trying to make sense of the whole situation. Then I realize what day it is. It's the Reaping.

We stand there for a few more minutes and I feel her tears on my cheek, making the situation more uncomfortable than it already was. I pull away from her and I look into her teary eye and say

"Don't worry mom, I've survived this long haven't I? Today will be just like any other day except this time I'll be able to work with a full stomach this time." I try to sound casual, hoping my mother will relax as well.

I am glad to see that my mother laughs and I laugh while she wipes a tear from her eye. Instantly the tension is shattered and she's smiling again.

"Of course, I'm being silly" She says, turning her attention towards the laundry again.

I've been submitting my name for a total of three years for the past Reapings, but never have I had to face the dread and hopelessness of being chosen as a tribute to the Hunger Games. Many tributes go to the Capital to participate in the Games, but only one from our district, District 12, was lucky enough to return.

As I try to remember all the past tributes for District 12, and all of their painful deaths, Cay walks into the kitchen to join me and my mother to breakfast. Just as we are about to eat however, my mother notices the small hole on the back of my sweater I tried so hard to conceal from her the other night, and goes on a rampage. I stuff a piece of bread in my mouth, while my mother continues to rant on about the high price of thread these days and about how many times she's told me to take care of my clothes, while she tries to find something heavy to throw at me.

I pull on my jacket while my mother starts throwing pots and pans at me. I run out the door before anything hits me and I hear her shout out while my brother laughs

"GET BACK HERE HAYMITCH!" She shrieks

I continue to run until I no longer can hear her scream at me to come back. I let out a laugh until I feel exhausted and take a look around the Seam to see how early it was.

The sun had barely come up and there was still hours until the Reaping occurs. So I decide that I might as well visit Faye.

Faye, the girl that makes me smile, the girl I had known since I was young and the girl I loved. I loved her and she loved me, and the whole Seam knew that. Her mother passed away when we were young and her father was a merchant, so she didn't live in the Seam.

We always had a tree where we would meet not so far from the Seam and the Merchant area. It wasn't so hard to miss because it was the largest tree there. We had promised to see each other today, so I started heading there, hoping she was there.

When I arrived, however, I saw that she wasn't. So I decided to catch up on the lost hours of sleep I would have had under the shade of the tree. The warm breeze and the sunlight was enough to make me sleepy, so I sat myself under the tree and closed my eyes, wondering why everyone was so worried about the Reaping.

But once again, I am denied a few hours sleep when a pair of hands covers both my eyes. The owner of these hands giggles and whispers

"I love you"

I grab both of her hands and turn to see Faye's beautiful green eyes staring into mine. We smile at each other and our lips meet. I feel the warmth of her lips pass through my body. I feel an unexplainable happiness as we kiss and let the moment last.

When our lips finally part, I let her lay her head on my shoulder as I stroke her long blonde hair. She looks at me and we stay silent, listening to the wind pass and the leaves above us rustle. We stay like this for a while, letting nature's path continue while we watch, until she sits up and looks me in the eye

"Not one trace" she whispers

"Not one trace of what?" I ask

"Not one trace of worry or anxiety most of us bear on our shoulders, not one trace of fear towards the Capital or the Games, not one trace of concern that you might be one of the four tributes, forced to kill during the Quarter Quell. It's like staring into two grey pits of oblivion. "She answers, continuing to stare at my eyes.

I smile and repeat what I just said to my mother, the impossible chances, the 3 years of luck, and the uselessness of anxiety. I stroke her hair once more and say that there is not chance that either of us will get chosen this year. But she shakes her head.

"You don't know that, what if you get picked, what if..."

I stop her midsentence and gently smile

"If I get picked, I'll bring you the whole Capital as a souvenir." I say sarcastically. She laughs and rests her head down on my chest again. This seems to calm her down a bit, but hints of fear and concern are still in her voice.

We hear the sound of people gathering in the square a few moments later and guess that it must be time to Reap

As we walk into the square, we see people hugging their children and embracing each other with teary hope of reunion. I can't help but feel the concern I've been mocking and turn to say that I love her, in case it might be the last time I could, but I see that her attention is elsewhere.

We kiss and say our farewells. I hear her start to mention that she will pray for the both of us, but I leave her, not wanting to feed her anxiety. I find my family; my brother smiling while my mother continues to mention how I should have wore something more elegant. But I ignore her as she continues to pick at the hole on my sweater with a scowl.

On the stage, I see the mayor of our district, Mr. Prinwood, start the ceremony. He continues to drone on and on about the rebellion and how the Capitol is supreme to all, but no one really listens. They're more concerned for their children or siblings, hoping that they will see each other again. When he finally introduces Districts 12's escort, Fillis Vannigan, a middle aged women with crazy hair and extremely long finger nails, everyone scowls. Everyone in District 12 hated Fillis. Each year she has to escort the tributes, but she feels that it is her duty to fulfill the minimum amount of her responsibilities. That's probably one of the reasons our tributes barely survived the first three days.

She watches over the crowd, not bothering to look the least bit interested, probably because District 12 rarely produces capable tribute. She waves her hand towards the crowd but hardly anybody applauds. As she comes up and starts giving a speech, I start imitating her speech in her pompous, Capital accent for the amusement of my brother. He looks and laughs with me.

But my mother looks at us and smacks both of us on the head.

"Do you even understand the seriousness of the situation?" She whispers angrily.

"What's to take serious? All we need to worry about is being chosen as tributes, stuffed into suits and being shown on live TV at the Capital, and fighting forty seven people for my life. What's not funny about it?" I loudly proclaim, making everyone around us glare at me, including my mother. My brother stifles a giggle when my mother scowls at me too and nearly smacks me on the head again, when a commotion on the front stage grabs everyone's attention.

It turns out Fillis's speech was interrupted when our only victor had made it to the Reaping, holding a bottle of strong white liquor and struggling to go up the stairs without falling down. The mayor rushed to help her up and snatched the microphone from Fillis's hands to introduce her to the thousands of people watching this on television. It was easy to see that Fillis disliked being in the presence of Dahilla, but for show she put her hand on Dahilla's shoulder and tried to make casual talk. When Dahilla seemed to gain some sort of focus, completely ignoring everything Fillis was saying, she looks at Fillis for a moment and drops the bottle of alcohol immediately, trying to throttle Fillis.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" She yelled.

It took half a dozen Peacekeepers to subdue the women but they managed to pin her down to a chair. Poor old Rahilla Dophias, she goes crazy when she's drunk but cannot live without alcohol, to the point of being hopelessly addicted. Now she's about 52 years old, but she was able to win the 16th Hunger Games on her own, making her the only hope for the tributes of the Quarter Quell.

After Rahilla settles down, Fillis announces that it is now time to Reap. While she is rubbing her throat I see that there are red marks on her neck and I feel proud Rahilla is our district's victor.

"Ladies first!" She shouts out.

Despite my previous grandeur, I can't help but feel worried that Faye may be picked by a fluke of chance, and I start wishing to myself that she doesn't get picked.

The first name is picked and I find myself feeling half relieved that it isn't someone I know personally. Then I feel disgusted at myself for thinking such a thing. I hear a cry of despair as the family I have seen various times in the Seam try to grip onto the girl while the Peacekeepers drag her out.

Fillis doesn't even bother looking up from her nails, while the family weeps in despair because they know they will never see her alive again. I can't help but feel sorry. As I continue to watch the girl try to escape the grip of the Peacekeepers without success, Fillis announces another girl's name and makes me jump.

"Maysilee Donner."

This time I groan because Maysilee was a friend of Faye, and attended the same school as her. I see Maysilee being embraced by her sister and another girl I don't know and weep. But this time Maysilee voluntarily walks up to the stage unlike the other girl. I look for Faye in the crowd and I see her silently crying for her friend.

When the cameras close in on the girls faces, I was surprised to see how determined Maysilee seemed. You could see in her eyes that she wouldn't go out without a fight. I find that somewhat disturbing in a way I cannot yet make out, just the fact that she hasn't given up is enough to make me unnerved.

I try to find a way to get Faye's attention and comfort her in some way, but I know it's too late for that.

Fillis yawns, obviously bored out of her skull, and goes directly to the boys bowl. It only takes one swipe to take out the first name. This time it is a younger boy, about 15 or 14 years old. His father and mother embrace him once and let him go; silently watching him and accepting the cruel fate their son would endure

As he sits down next to the other tributes, I let out a sigh of relief, being perfectly sure that I won't get picked and happy that, Faye is saved from the terrible role of being a tribute this year.

I give a smile to my mother and brother and open my mouth to say that I told them so, and that there is no need to worry. But Fillis scoops up the last name and announces it loudly before I'm able to say anything

"Haymitch Abernathy"

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