I shoot up in bed, tangled in the rough blanket.
Shuddering uncontrollably, a long, high-pitched scream pervades the room, and it seems to be coming from my mouth. All at once, I feel someone's arms wrap around me and I regain some of my sanity. Tears spill out of my eyes and I hold on to Katniss like a lifeline, trying to calm my racing heart.
"It's okay," she whispers, "hush, Prim, it's going to be okay."
I stop shivering. "I'm scared," I say softly to her.
She just pulls me closer and I bury my face into her soft nightclothes. I know she's not soothing me with words because there is nothing more to say. I may be only twelve, but I know for a fact that no one is okay in the cruel clutches of the Capitol. The Hunger Games was just another way for them to torture us.
For four years, I have watched as a part of the crowd, trembling in fear for my sister. Now today I would be doing the same for myself. I know I don't have much to worry about, having just one slip, but no one can help but feel frightened, no one can help but think, What if the unthinkable happens?
When I finally feel better, she lets go, and I mumble a quiet apology for waking her so early. She smiles slightly and says, "I couldn't sleep anyway." She then tucks me back in and walks away. I know where.
The woods. To go hunting. She and Gale are the reason our families haven't starved. Sometimes I worry about her. What if she gets caught? But here in District Twelve, appetite usually rules out law.
I try to get back to sleep, but I just can't. My eyes won't close. I can't relax. My mind is working overtime, thinking up scenarios, and playing out the reaping. I know I shouldn't create phantom worries, but at the moment I can't help it. I'm still terrified, still overcome with the certainty that it will be me.
Just one slip, I remind myself. The odds are entirely in my favor. But that does little to ease my tension.
I think about the number of times a twelve year old was reaped. I don't remember much and I don't like watching the Games, but it has happened, proving that the odds just don't matter sometimes.
I hug myself and transfer my thoughts to Katniss instead. She has signed up for tesserae ever since her first reaping. And because the entries are cumulative, her name will be entered twenty times. It was difficult not to worry about her. And what about Gale? Feeding a family of five, being eighteen years old, his name will entered forty-two times. My odds are much better than his.
Thinking about this makes me let out a deep breath I have been holding in. I'm about as safe as one can get. Plus, there are thousands of children between the ages of twelve and eighteen.
I suddenly feel selfish. I should be telling Katniss it will be okay, even though we both know it's a lie. I slowly creep up to my mother's bed and lay down next to her. I put an arm around her, seeking warmth. Seeking safety. But I should know better.
No one is safe.