Feet scuff in unison against the cobbled roads. The masses part into segregated areas for each age group, forming precise lines, standing shoulder to shoulder.
My sister lets go of my hand to let it fall limply at my side as she wades through the crowd to the other 16 year old girls. Just as she leaves I remember to untuck the back of my dress. As I do this I dream of a duckling, running from it's greatest fear, the predator. I feel pain for the duckling, and jealousy. It was only a dream, not reality, a reality I have to wake up to everyday.
The square goes silent as a woman walks across the dust layered floor. Butterflies scatter her slim, curved body and the colours of orange and black litter her eyelids. Her shoes build up from the floor to make up majority of her height, although she is still shorter than the peacekeeper standing next to her.
Effie Trinket!
Oh no! It's started!
Vertigo swells in my stomach as I leave my fate up to a piece of paper. This is the first time I feel undeniable fear, the feeling engulfs me and the hunger pains don't help settle my nerves. She dances around the stage with a delicate smile plastered on her face, her usual face paint for this time of the year.
'Lady's first' she announces as her gloved fingers swirl through the sea of white trapped in a clear glass bowl. She plucks out a piece paper, delicate handwriting scrawled on the back of it. She clears her throat and as she tell the capital who the unlucky soul is a wave of dread washes over me.
'Primrose Everdeen' she announces with a superior tone. As I step forward Effie's face droops. In her eyes she sees a 12 year old girl, at her first reaping, waiting to get slaughtered.
I am not that girl. I am a fighter.
Katniss can't volunteer for me. I won't let her.
She needs to stay and look after mother, who is lying in her death bed. I will do it for them.
I will survive.