Author's notes:
So.. I'm still in dazed with Catching Fire and so I wanted to vent some of my giddiness... and this was the result... LOL...
I've always wondered what Peeta thinks of all this... I mean the story is mainly focused to Katniss' POV... not that was a bad idea... but I just want to know Peeta's side...
This must have been an overused idea... but I just need to let this out... gwarsh... and this is my first Hunger Games fan fiction so take it easy on me... please...
Disclaimer: Hunger Games Trilogy is owned by Suzanne Collins.
I squeeze my eyes tighter, trying to shield myself from the light. I toss myself to the side and cover my face with my arm; trying to get some more sleep.
A hand shook me urgently and I have to choice but to open my eyes and start the day.
I saw my mother shutting my windows close and I stare dumbly at her. My mother is not a bad person but she is certainly not this kind of gentle unless...
Of course, today is the reaping. Every year, the capitol would gather all the children ages 12 to 18 at the square where a boy and a girl would be picked to fight in an arena to death. It is the way of reminding the districts of 1 to 12 of the uprising that happened before. The capitol, I think, just wants to tell us that they have a hold to us, that they can manipulate us and we can never do something about it.
Of course these kinds of thoughts only run through my head. My mother made sure of that. Because if you say something against the Capitol, they will surely make you pay for it.
I watched my mother paced urgently back and forth and it was only when she left that I rise from my bed and went to the bath. The bath relaxes me a little, but of course today is the reaping; no one could ever relax until this day is over.
I went downstairs to meet my family for breakfast. Even with the reaping, my mother makes sure we eat together. She especially makes sure of it at the day of the reaping. She said we could never tell when our table would be missing one person.
My mother, she is strict and almost cruel. But she isn't all that I assure you. Most people would say she looks down at people, and somehow she is, but she does that only to avoid getting in trouble, though I have no idea what she means with trouble. We all are in trouble already. She does lift a hand on us and has an iron hand, a bit bitter too, but it must have been because of the life she has been living. The life in Twelve is a life where you scavenge for food every minute and always in a rush for safety.
I sat at the vacant seat and quietly observe my family. My two brothers, they're eyes are too serious, too vacant; like they have seen too much cruelty and misery. I can still remember when we were younger; my brothers would prank our mother and put the blame on me. And all the while they are doing that, they have that mischievous glint in their eyes. It was a surprise our mother never caught them, they're good liars.
But then it was gone when my eldest brother went to the reaping. He smiled less; talk less, the glint in his eyes gone. I didn't know why at first, until my second brother went to the reaping too, and the same process happened to him. Now I know why mother and father had that sadness and emptiness in their eyes. The Capitol corrupted them. But I swear to myself I won't be changed by the Capitol; I would remain as I am, whatever happened.
"Why aren't you eating much Peeta?" my father's worried voice snapped me from my thoughts.
"I'm not really that hungry." I said with small smile. The truth is, I just don't want eat; I don't have the appetite to.
"You should eat." He said, giving me a knowing glance. I did as I was told. Food in Twelve is really hard to come by; one should not waste a properly good meal.
My father is the very opposite mother. He is kind and gentle. He still smiles a little and offers help. He taught me almost everything I know and somehow people think I'm just like him. I hope I am.
I finished my food and quickly went to the kitchen. Baking has been my passion ever since my father thought me how to do so. It had become my calming line when I feel the urge to break down or burst out. I also do it when I'm happy and I can't or won't tell it to anybody.
I baked for a few hours, decorated some cakes until I find the need to shower again and prepare myself from the impending doom. It's almost one o'clock and I need to be at the square at this very time.
My family all went to the square for the reaping. My father, mother and oldest brother bid my older brother and I goodbye midway to the square. They have to find a suitable and comfortable place; meaning the farthest away from the square as possible. The reaping is not actually an eye-candy and I don't blame them for wanting go get away from it.
My brother and I signed in and I found myself in the pool of sixteen years old. I balled my fist tighter. Being born from the richer side of the town, I was not as unfortunate as the Seam kids who had dozens of names in the bowl but one cannot be so relaxed. It's slim, but there's still the chance I get to be picked.
Effie Trinket, the Capitol's representative to Twelve and the escort of the tributes to the hunger games was there, the mayor was also there looking as uncomfortable as ever. Haymitch Abernathy, Twelve's only living victor. In the history of Twelve, there had only been two victors.
The event was having its usual routine. The mayor would say something, Effie with her high pitched voice would greet us with her usual, "Happy hunger games and may the odds be ever in your favour."
My hands are being numb from the tightness of my hold. I can feel my stomach churning into knots. Well, it's a tradition that girls are to be picked first.
I wait for the name. I am almost sure that her name would be called. I silently chanted her name to not be called. And I almost fall from shock if my feet aren't rooted to the ground.
My prayers were heard but another doom just need to pop up. Because the one that was called was Primrose Everdeen.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review... :)