Hey guys! This is the first chapter of Prim's games, as requested. If this is successful I will be writing a sequel. And also, I changed the male tribute because I can't kill off Peeta yet if I write a sequel about life after the games for Prim. And I might skip through a little bit of the train rides, because to stay true to Prim's character, they wouldn't be very interesting because Prim would just stay in her room and cry and politely keep quiet at meals. All thoughts in italics! PS: Don't read the chapter labeled 'The fight' because it has major spoilers because it's the end of the games, unless you don't mind spoilers. Hope you like it!
I wake up drowsily, and stumble out of bed. I almost trip on Buttercup, my feet finding yellow matted fur and quickly lifting due to the startling sound of Buttercup's cry of pain. "Oh, sorry Buttercup!" I stutter, pulling him up onto my lap and stroking his tangled fur. Aw, He stayed at my feet all night, watching over me. I search for Katniss, craning my head around, but she has vanished. Probably out hunting and gathering with Gale for tonight. The night of the reaping everyone celebrates because their children are safe from death's looming threat of the games for another year. Well, not everybody. However, of course, at least two families will not be doing any celebrating, cowering in fear in their homes of their loved ones and children dying. It's just not fair. Nobody should have to suffer like that whether they're the loved ones of the reaped or the tribute. I wish there was just some magical button I could press and end all the fear, sadness and suffering the games provoke. I ignore the rebellious thoughts for now and get on with my day. The reaping begins at two o' clock. First, I clean Father's shaving mirror as always. He always hated the grimy layer of coal dust that settled on it, blurring the mirrors accuracy. Afterwards I go out back and milk my goat, Lady for my contribution to the celebratory meal. 12 o' clock. I go back inside and fill a tub of water to bathe in, and settle into it, slipping into my inner thoughts and consciousness. 20 slips. 42 slips. 1 slip. 1 slip. 20 threatening to take Katniss' life, 42 seeking Gale, 1 slip that could steal the love of my life forever from me, and 1 slip holding a knife to my own throat. All floating freely in that reaping bowl to be discovered by Effie Trinket's bizarrely gloved hand. I realize the time and get out of the bath tub and slip into an outfit my Mother has laid out for me. Katniss' first reaping outfit. I put my hair into two neat blonde braids, wet and walk into our small living room. Katniss has returned from her hunting trip. I hug her then she gets ready and we walk to the reaping. I'm shaking like an autumn leaf by the time we reach town square. "I'll find you after the reaping, don't worry Prim, they won't pick you." Katniss soothes me unsuccessfully. One slip. A gruff peacekeeper pricks my finger and takes a drop of my blood, then shoves me towards the pen of terrified 12-year-olds. Effie Trinket does her normal routine of high pitched chirps about the hunger games with teary unnaturally pink eyes then shows us the exact same video we watch every single year. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" She trills. "Ladies first!" She reaches a decorated hand down into the reaping bowl. One slip. One slip that can end my life. She pulls one out and carefully unfolds it. "Primrose Everdeen!" That's me. I am Primrose Everdeen. I am now a tribute, and I am sentenced to die. The blood drains out of my face and I struggle to breath. No, no, it's not me. It can't be. But it is. I am horrified and consumed by fear. I want to run, and leave this horrid place forever, but I can't. "Primrose Everdeen?" Effie calls out again. I take a deep breath and make my way onto the stage with slow, robotic, forced movements. I am boarding the first step when I hear a familiar voice call out. "Prim! Prim! No! I—" Katniss. People stare and gasp when peacekeepers crowd her and drag her away. "Prim! No! Get your hands off of me! Let me go! I volun—"That's all I hear before she is taken away. Oh god. What are they doing to her? Putting a bullet through her head? Torturing her? Turning her into an avox? She's going to die! Oh god, why did I have to drag her down with me? Effie clears her throat politely, signaling to stop paying attention to the Capitol's crimes. "And now for the boys." She says. She reaches into the reaping bowl and grasps a single slip.
1 slip that could steal the love of my life forever from me. "Rory Hawthorne!" She sings. "Ladies and Gentlemen! The tributes of district twelve in the 74th annual hunger games!" She squeals, ushering us off. Not him, Why him? So many slips and only 2 marked with 'Primrose Everdeen' and 'Rory Hawthorne', yet we're both going into the hunger games, and we're both going to die together.