TAMMY

In, out. In, out.

The movement of the needle. Over and over again.

I took up embroidery a few months ago. Just as a hobby.

Sebastien mentioned to me once that I should probably take up a hobby, just for fun, for something to do in my spare time.

I did it back then for fun, but now for an entirely different reason.

I do it now to take my mind off to what's happening.

The patterns I make are so intricate I am focused completely on embroidering, nothing else. Nothing else edges its way into my mind.

I do embroidery for hours now.

My parents and Seb don't bother me whilst I do it, they know why I do it.

You see, I have a lot to keep my mind off. Especially now Finn's in the arena.

Someone I know and love being in the arena is just a huge déjà vu for me.

One of my closest friends was forced into the arena ten years ago.

It was only his first year, and he only had one slip. The odds were definitely in his favour. At least, you'd have thought.

I remember when they called out his name. It may have been ten years ago, but to this day, I remember.

There is no wind today. The air is hot and sticky, and my hand-me-down dress sticks to my back.

It's my first year at the reaping, so naturally, I'm scared. Isn't every 12 year old scared right now, or nervous, at least? I don't know. I can't really think straight.

I look into the crowds who watch the reaping and search the crowd. I see my family; there's Mum, Dad, Finnegan.

Finnegan's a little too young to realise what's happening, so he smiles throughout the ceremony. He has done every year so far, his smile only faltering when someone begins to cry or yell when they get chosen. But someone soon volunteers for them. Their cries die down. Finnegan begins to smile again.

He once asked me, when I was stood there watching the reaping as well, why they scream and cry at first. I replied; 'Well, Finn, they were chosen to play a bad game. It isn't very fair.'

Then he'd nod and continue with his life, completely naïve to the horrific rule we're under.

'Welcome,' says our district's escort all of a sudden. Quade Tarvillian is our district's escort. He has been for a few years now. And he still looks extremely peculiar to my eyes, no matter how many times I see him. I remember vividly the first time I saw a Capitol citizen. I couldn't avert my eyes. How odd I thought they were. I still think they're odd, to be honest.

Quade does his small speech, shows us the video made by the Capitol which he does every year at the reaping, then begins the dreaded reaping. He starts with the girls. He crosses over to the huge bowl.

I feel the heat begin to suffocate me and hold back the urge to wipe my forehead with my thumb. I want to stay as inconspicuous as possible. I feel that if I do I'll have less chance of being reaped.

He throws his hand into the bowl, digging around in there, making a show of it. Normally I roll my eyes at his exaggerated choosing of the names. This year, I don't dare.

Finally, he draws out a name.

'Tara Hammond.'

I must've been holding my breath, as air rushes out of my mouth. I don't speak still. But I'm so glad none of my friends or family were picked. Well, not yet, anyway. I can only hope.

Another girl, an 18 year old by the name of Kendall Tonkins, volunteers, among others. She gets chosen to represent our district and heads up the stage. Tara, looking extremely relieved, runs to her family.

Quade does his over the top hand-dig-in-the-bowl-for-ten-minutes thing in the boys' bowl, then pulls out a name. I close my eyes.

'Zachariah Saker.'

Wait, I must've misheard.

No, Zach is walking up to the stage, stony faced. That isn't right, this is only his first year too. Surely someone will volunteer. They must!

But no one does.

Why?

This sometimes happens, but rarely. So very rarely. Why to Zach?

I spend all night crying for my friend.

A week later he's murdered in the bloodbath at the very start of the Games.(/END OF ITALICS)

I stop the pattern I am near to finishing and lean back into my chair.

A sick feeling rises in my stomach. It's near the end of the Games, and all I've been hoping for the past week is that Finn gets out. That he gets out of the hellhole which could consume him whole.

The door to mine and Seb's room creaks open.

'Hey, it's me.' Seb.

'What is it?' I ask. Seb never disturbs me whilst I embroider. Never.

He looks down at the ground as if he wants it to swallow him right up.

'What's happened? TELL ME.' I say desperately.

He runs over and hugs me, making me drop my embroidery work. I would be annoyed in another situation, but something horrendous has obviously happened.

'What's happened? Is it Finnegan? Oh please god don't let it be Finnegan,' I whisper.

'It's Finnegan,' Seb leans back, holding my shoulders gently and looking straight into my eyes. I don't know how he manages to do so. 'He's gone, Tammy, he's gone.'

'No, I don't believe you...' I stammer. 'It can't be true.'

'It's true,' Seb tells me. 'No matter how much you want it to be false it's true. The Capitol have had him murdered.'

'NO!' I shout. 'NO!'

Finnegan, who had a soft spot for the pretty colours of the sunset, who watched it every night without fail, who I looked after when he fell off the roof those couple of times when he first started climbing up.

He couldn't be gone.

I collapse.