I shake violently my hands grasping the hem of my disgustingly plain skirt, fingers pulling at threads, trying to steady myself but failing. The lingering smell of the previous rainful curls into my nostrils, and my polished white shoes are stained with mucky rain water which has glossed over the concrete we stand on as we stare towards the platform in front of us, waiting on edge to discover our fate. I shouldn't be stood here, my Grandfather had played cruel games with the rest of Panem, but I had always stayed well away from them. Despite my life of luxury and comfort in the Capitol, I didn't feel isolated from the Districts, and often wore Katniss Everdeen's signature braid in my hair to show my lurking support for her. My Grandfather played wicked games, yet he never intended for me to be hurt by them.
All of the District mentors up to District eleven have already reaped there tributes, and tears have been shed but they haven't been mine as I have stayed glued to my spot. My name hasn't been called out yet, but I have a feeling that the bowl at the end of the line, which Katniss Everdeen will soon select a name from, has my name written on most of the slips of paper. They will want to save me till last afterall, so they can quickly leave the uproar that will take place the moment my name is announced.
The male mentor from district eleven, a middle aged man whose chocolate brown hair is beginning to retreat into a silvery grey steps up to the ball of names. Bruce Adelaide, he was a rebel, running through the Capitol streets equipped with a dagger which won him his life. I gulp as he digs his hand in, but my mind is still on the ball at the end. First he pulls out the name of a boy who had already been reaped by Johanna Mason at the district seven ball. Embarrassedly he scrunches the sheet of paper into a ball and shoves it into his pocket, before selecting another name.
"Quentin Shard," Bruce calls, his deep voice sending shivers through the crowd as some breathe shaky sighs of relief, grabbing the hands of the person next to them in sinister happiness. However in one corner of the crowd near the platform others shriek, espescially one boy, Quentin, who shakes violently and relentlessly as he is forced by District citizens towards the stage. He has a red streak in his messy brown hair which matches the colour of his scarlett face as he cries, tears cascading down his blooming cheeks. When he is asked if he has got anything to say, he simply lets out a whimper into the microphone, before he is escorted to a seat at the back of the platform.
Next to pick out a name is Tacha Sparrow, a fairly young woman in her mid twenties who possesses a rare beauty, with caramel skin that compliments her captivating blue eyes. She rebelled in Squad 451 alongside her dart gun, which she used to shoot at people whilst hidden in the comfort of the trees. She was neaely killed by a brave Capitol citizen, who attacked her with a knife whilst she was unarmed, but all she could manage to do was leave a scar alongside the left of Tacha's face before she was thrown off of her by Gale Hawthorne. Some see the scar as disturbing and unattractive, other see it as something she should be proud of and then others see it as something that inhances her beauty.
"Minti Knight," Tacha reads from the slip of paper, her hand not showing any traces of trembles, her voice containing no stutter. I can remember learning about Victor Sparrow, Tacha's elder brother, he was a tribute in the Hunger Games around twenty years ago. However he wasn't an ordinary tribute, well I guess no tribute is. Instead of fighting he dug a hole in the ground of the muddy terrain and then tried to hide out in there until the games were over, hoping and praying for victory. However one gloomy night whilst he was sleeping, the hole fell through and after minutes populated by panic and distress, the canon sounded and his petrified face glowed in the sky. The Capitol took her brother away from her, and she was desperate to avenge him.
Minti Knight is a lank girl with magenta pink hair, that flows down her back and bounces as she walks towards the platform holding her head high. When he was alive, her father used to work for the games. He trained the tributes to the best of ability, taught them how to win back their lifes, but the truth is after the games the victor's never get there lives back instead they are plastered all over the Capitol, shown to be smiling, when really they're still dying. Her father is the reason she seems to lack all fear, no doubt he had trained her too, and if not she would at least know how to hold a knife unlike most of the tributes already reaped. She will be the Capitol's equivilant to the careers, she will be the one everyone is trying to avoid in the arena, constantly checking behind them to make sure she isn't following. She will be a good ally if I am to be reaped.
"Do you have anything to say Minti?" Tacha practically snarls up at the girl who towers above her. I doubt Minti had anything to do with the death of Tacha's brother, being though she wasn't even alive at the time of Victor's games. However all Capitol citizens are equally disgusting in Tacha's vision and Minti to repell her.
"I vow-" Minti steps towards the microphone, pausing for a second, considering her speech, trying to avoid a riot, "to try to win the games. As well as the Capitol's pride."
There are a few murmurs in the crowd as Minti goes to sit down at the back next to a glossy eyed Quentin who has taken to staring straight ahead of him, his face emotionless and statue. Next Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen walk into my vision, they try to stride in confidence, but there heads are bowed down to the floor as though they are ashamed. I bite my lip and look over at the last bowl, predicting my malicous future. Peeta nods his head slighlty before stepping up to the bowl. He takes ages to select a name, causing all the bows in the crowd to fidget restlessly. If their name is not read out by Peeta they will be safe, free to go home and live the rest of there life out haunted by memories of the rebellion, but they will still be living.
"Kaden...Kaden Spirit," Peeta mumbles in the microphone, after staring at the piece of paper guility for a few moments. Some boys breath a sigh of relief but others stay as fragile and on edge as they were when Peeta's hand was shuffling about in the bowl.
Kaden reveals himself in the crowd, he doesn't need to be escorted like Quentin, but he doesn't have Minti's confidence as he silently walks towards the platform. His black hair falls in front of his milky brown eyes and by the face he is pulling he must be biting on his tongue. He nearly trips up the steps, his mind seemingly in other places, but manages to steady himself. He may be my district partner, in a few weeks time I may be watching him die, or he may be listening to me scream as I lie bloody on the ground, life draining out of me. When Peeta asks him if he has anything to say, he shakes his head and goes and sits next to Minti who is inspecting her nails casually.
A harsh weight drops in my stomach and threatens to drag me to the floor when Katniss Everdeen walks towards the final bowl. She stops for a minute and squints her eyes examining the crowd like a hawk as though searching for somebody in particular. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the District Guards, the replacement of the Peacekeepers edging towards me slightly. My legs begin to shake and I think they are about to give way as Katniss places her hand delicately in the bowl, her fingers curling around a slip of paper.
"Clarity Snow."
I didn't even realise how close the District Guards were, but suddenly I am being dragged brutally through the crowd by my arms, my legs scraping against the ground, gasps of pain escaping my lips. I didn't even resist, they couldn't even see the reaction to my name escaping Katniss' lips, yet they still don't show any mercy as I wail. The audience screeches, some think I deserve it for I am the Grandaughter of the man who caused all of this torture and abuse, and even though he isn't alive anymore, my surname still proves our relation, which is enough for many to despise me thoroughly. However others think this behaviour is disgusting, causing uproar in the crowd as I am practically thrown onto the platform. I scramble to my feet, trying to keep what little pride I have left, and attempting to block out the chaos that is occuring around me as I stare at the woman who called my name.
A microphone is shoved into my hand suddenly, and I am forced to the front of the platform, not getting a choice in whether I speak or not. I look at the crowd, who are engaging in a furious argument with the guards, some are covering their ears as the squeals torture there senses. I know that the Capital has lacked power since the rebellion came to an end five years ago, but I never have seen it so weak before, as it kneels before the districts.
"This," I begin, causing all sound to fade out as everyone is desperate to hear what I have to say, "none of this was my fault. And I, am very sorry."
A door is pulled open behind the platform and the unfortunate tributes trail out taking one last look at their remaining family members, tears accomodating their tired eyes. A pair of hands grasp either one of my shoulders and shove me in the direction of the door, their nails digging into my skin. I don't get why they're being so forceful, it's not as though I have anywhere to run, or as though I have the energy to do anything like that in my dying mind.
My Grandfather played wicked games, and now I have to pay the price.
(A/N) Hello! Thank you to everyone who has read this story, it means a lot to know people are reading my work. I also have this story on Wattpad, my account on there is also "cressidas" so please don't think I am stealing her work because she is me!
-G