I gulp nervously as the countdown begins. Poised for action, my sister Katniss stands on her platform. I sob loudly. As tears stream down my face, I wonder how this came to be. Why did I not reject Katniss's offer? I should be in the Hunger Games. I WAS REAPED. My sister means the world to me and my mother, without her, we will fall apart.
The countdown ends and the tributes rush towards the Corncucopia. A disembodied head flies through the air, clipping the side of Katniss's head. I watch as Cato the ruthless killer from District 2, slashes his sword back and forth, wounding several tributes. My sister runs towards the Corncuopia, lunging for a orange backpack. The District 9 boy already has a hold of it. They grapple for it, pulling back and forth.
Then, the most horrible thing happens. I stare horrifically as Katniss's face on the screen morphs into mine. Its all there. My face, fresh as a raindrop, as Katniss would say is in perfect detail. My nose, my mouth, my hair, EVERYTHING. I close my eyes and grit my teeth, willing this hallucination away. I open my eyes and it is still present. Clove lunges skillfully and chucks a knife into the back of the District 9 boy. Me-Katniss flinches as the warm red sticky blood shoots across her face. Eyes fierce and bloodthirsty, Clove throws another knife straight towards Me-Katniss! In a futile attempt, to block the knife, she lifts up her bag, hoping it will evade the incoming knife.
"NO!" I scream, "THAT SHOULD BE ME ALMOST DYING. THAT SHOULD BE ME GETTING HIT BY THAT KNIFE. THAT SHOULD BE ME IN THE ARENA!" I storm over to my mother's china cabinet and grab a stack of plates. One by one, I hurl them across the room screaming with rage and fury each time. The doorbell rings. Angered from the disturbance, I chuck a plate at the door.
"OW!," someone screams. Oh no. I hit Rory. Blood trickles down Rory's face as he pulls the shards from the plate out of his forehead.
"I'm so sorry Rory! I just got caught up in the moment!" I say while blushing. I bring him over the nursing cot where I dab his head with some sterilizing alcohol. Rory smiles bleakly.
"It's okay Prim. I know it must be tough," he says, putting his hand on my shoulder. I place a bandage on his head and help him off the cot.
We sit down together on the couch. My eyes gape open as I see the mess I have made. Shards of plates are scattered all over the room. Windows are cracked, curtains are shredded, and carpets are torn. Even Buttercup has a few cuts and scratches.
"Buttercup!" I scream. I pick him up and care for his wounds, her purring delicately in my lap. I direct my eyes towards the TV screen. It has been 15 minutes since I have last watched. The anthem plays and the fallen come out. I grip Rory's hand as 10 tributes appear. Luckily, Katniss is not displayed. I sigh in relief and loosen my grip on Rory's hand. He pulls it back and holds it, but not as tightly. And we stay like that, because honestly, I don't mind one bit.