As the rays from the sun crept into the oddly immaculate apartment in the red light district of District 8, Annie Edison fought her body's urge to wake up. She kept her eyes closed, hoping to cling to what was left of her dream, rather than face the reality that today was the most dreaded day of the year: The Reaping.
Rolling over, the brunette glanced at the small old-fashioned alarm clock that rested on her antique nightstand. Even at eight-thirty in the morning, she still felt like she had overslept, especially since she was expected to be out of her apartment and into a herd of humans in just a few hours. Annie sat up and yawned. She wasn't exactly sure what the repercussions of sleeping in and not showing up for the ceremony was, but she wasn't about to risk oversleeping and finding out. Even on a day that would determine whether her life would be in jeopardy, Annie Edison liked to be punctual.
She crawled out of bed and shuffled her slippered feet across the stained floor as she entered the kitchen area of the one-room abode. With the turn of a dial, and a flick of a match, she lit the burner on her small gas stove, heating the remaining water in the teakettle that had been left there from the night before. Annie then gathered a mug and the small pouch that contained her favorite tea. She opened the pouch and sighed, dumping the small amount of crushed leaves into the water. Leaning against the counter, Annie thought as she waited for the liquid to come to a boil.
It was times like these she wished she had Adderall again. Then again, getting addicted to an herb to the point where you're convinced that everyone around you is a robot and being cut off from your middle class parents isn't exactly the best thing to live by. But at least I could focus. She argued with herself. I wouldn't have these nerves. The apothecary would probably be willing to give her a small dose, just to get her through the reaping. That's all. After that, she wouldn't need it again. At least until next year.
Cursing at herself for even considering the idea, Annie lifted the kettle off the burner and poured the scalding tea through a strainer and into her mug. She had made a promise to herself that she'd never touch Adderall again, even if it was just to get her through today. Besides, even if she had gotten tesserae supplies for the last few years, she knew that there were kids who had their name in multiple times per year, just so that they could support their own poverty-stricken family. As sick as it made her feel, she found reassurance through the idea that maybe today the odds would be in her favor.
It was three years ago that the Capitol had altered the rules. Three years, since she found out that the age cap had been changed so that the tributes ages would range from eighteen to thirty-five. She had been so excited for her nineteenth birthday. So excited to finally be free from the constant fear of being forced in an arena to kill or be killed. And then the announcement was made. She was going to be required to be herded like cattle with the rest of her district's young adults for another seventeen years. Maybe the Capitol citizens found that it was much more interesting to watch a thirty-five year old to kill an eighteen year old in cold blood. And the worst part: they considered themselves charitable for saving the children of Panem from being soiled with the idea of murdering others their own age. As hard as she tried, Annie couldn't muster anything more than a speck of relief for those kids, even though it meant that they'd have to face the hunger games, but just at an older age.
Annie set her tea back on the counter and shuffled back to the closet near her bed. It was tradition that those participating in the reaping wore their best clothes; or at least looked presentable. A red dress caught her eye. It was her favorite, because it was the first that she had sewn herself and actually felt proud of. Unsure whether or not she wanted to soil the garment with such a sour memory as the fear of the reaping, she ran her fingers along the remaining outfits in her closet. A sigh escaped her lips as she pulled a yellow cardigan off its hanger to be paired with the dress.
She wanted to push the thoughts out of her mind and remind herself that she'd be safe. District Eight wasn't as highly populated and vast as Eleven or Six, but there were still hundreds of young adults that had their names in the jar. And her name would be on a select few pieces of paper. She didn't exactly like her chances, but reminding herself of the sheer probability that she wouldn't be picked allowed Annie to pull the dress on and resist the temptation of hiding out until the reaping was over.
A few hours later, she heard the footsteps outside her window almost as if there were soldiers marching in the streets below her. The reaping was beginning soon and the potential tributes had begun their journey to District Eight's town square. Annie took one last look in the mirror and sighed. It'll all be over soon, she thought. I just have to stand in that crowd for an hour and then I can just go home and go on with my life. There's no way I'll be picked.
District Eight's town hall square was almost full by the time Annie showed up. The number of potential tributes still didn't reassure her, and she floated through the sign-in process and barely even noticed when her finger was pricked to verify her identity. She didn't snap out of her daze until she heard a familiar voice.
"Hey look it's little Annie Adderall!" The voice belonged to a taller blonde girl; a girl who had relentlessly teased Annie throughout school and one that might have had something to do with Annie's path of addiction. "I heard that if you get picked, you get all these feasts and luxuries before the games. They'll probably even give you drugs! You should just volunteer because no one wants you here anyway."
The other women standing around her sneered. The ceremonies had begun, starting with the replay of the hunger games passed. Annie tried to focus her attention on the sickening reel of film but the constant gore caused her to turn her head away. The blonde saw this as an opportunity to continue her tormenting.
"Besides, it's not like Mommy an Daddy will miss you. I heard they cut you off."
The escort, Craig Pelton had entered the stage in a strangely flamboyant feminine outfit. He began a long-winded speech about how the hunger games were one of Panem's finest traditions and why they're important, but Annie wasn't listening. In fact, no one in that area was listening. Instead, they were all focused on the insults being hurled Annie's way.
"And no one even likes you here anyway. If you were picked, you wouldn't be missed."
Annie was now choking back tears. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't. She would've cried in high school, but now she was an adult. Petty insults wouldn't get to her. She was putting her foot down. Mustering up the closest thing she could get to a glare, Annie opened her mouth to speak. But the town square of District Eight had fallen silent. And then one single voice ran out, echoing off the walls of city hall and into the ears of every person in the district.
"Our female tribute from the District Eight is" There was a slight ripping sound, as the paper was unfolded. "Annie Edison!"
Annie's eyes widened and turned to the stage. She was wrong. The odds weren't in her favor.
Gathering herself, she begins the walk to the stage, a walk of shame. The whispers are beginning and oh how she hates them. The blonde who was practically wishing that Annie's name would be pulled from the glass bowl is in awe. As soon as Annie detaches from the herd and begins to walk the graveled space between the male and female crowds, she is joined by four peacekeepers. They surround her, and the five of them begin a march to the stage. Five hundred feet feels like five hundred miles.
Once she climbed the stairs to the stage, the crowd fell silent again. A small glimmer of hope sparked in her before she realized that no one would volunteer to take her place. She never really had close friends in District Eight. And unfortunately, no one was going to jump at the chance to willingly fight to the death, unlike the career districts. The escort had now begun the drawing of the male tribute, but Annie wasn't paying attention. Everything she heard sounded as if she was underwater: muffled and vague. She looked across the crowd and searched the faces of the adults on the sidelines. It wasn't enough to strain her eyes until her vision blurred. She couldn't see her parents anywhere.
Finally, the male tribute had reached the stage, although he had slipped and fallen on his way up the stairs. Laughter erupted from the crowd; he had been another outcast with not many friends. Annie didn't personally know him, but from what she heard from their escort, his name was Garrett.
A quick, awkward handshake is shared between the two tributes before they're ushered into the town hall building. A peacekeeper informs them that they will have five short minutes to say their goodbyes to their families. Garrett practically runs into his designated room, while Annie's pace is much more lethargic. She already knows her parents won't show up. And they're the only family she has.
Sitting down on a surprisingly plush couch, she counted the minutes until she'll be ordered to board a train to be sent to the Capitol. She's still so dazed from the events of the past twenty minutes that she doesn't hear the door open. She didn't notice another person in the room until the man spoke, snapping her back to reality.
"By the looks of it, you got this in the bag." She looked up at the old man, confused. He continues. "I mean, did you see that guy? Pathetic! Pathetic and probably gay."
Although the old man was chuckling, Annie could see the pain in his eyes. Pierce is the closest thing she ever had to a friend in District Eight. His family, well respected in the capitol for their business, had moved to the district when he was younger and the mansion he lived in rivaled that of the mayor's. They had met during her volunteer work in District Eight's hospital where he was recovering from having two broken legs. Somehow, they had become friends through her shadowing of nurses. He was like the offensively racist grandpa she never had.
Annie wasted no time leaping from the couch and into his arms. All she wanted right now was a hug and someone to tell her that everything would be okay. The tears finally began to flow from her eyes as she sobbed, quietly repeating the words "I don't want to go," over and over as the old man patted her back. She was terrified.
And suddenly everything was gone. She was torn from her elderly friend by a peacekeeper that was shouting that her time was up. Although Annie absolutely hated being seen as a child, she couldn't help herself from a childish tantrum. Flailing and kicking her legs, Annie attempted to salvage what was left of her life in District Eight. Tears streamed from her blue eyes and wails erupted from her mouth. Her life was about to change dramatically.