I woke up today, as if it was just another day. But it isn't. This is the day I might be reaped.
The word 'reaped'itself is terrifying to me. It's my first year, but my name is in 29 times. That means 29 chances for me to go to the arena, 29 chances for me to die.
I try to get those thoughts out of my head as I get out of bed, but the number twenty-nine is still coming back and forward in my mind. Every single thought in my head is related to the reaping. But still, how am I supposed to think about something else? I have to stay positive about it, but I can't.
"Rue" My mom called me "It's time for you to dress up. Come eat something".
My room is next to the kitchen and whenever my mom is cooking I can smell it. Sometimes it smells better than it tastes, or the portions are too small and I'm still hungry. But "Food is food. Grain is grain. We earn what we eat". That's what they teach us, but I don't believe them. I might be just twelve, but I'm not dumb, I know that the Capitol is not fair to us and the peacekeepers just look for excuses to mistreat people. And yet, there isn't much that a twelve-year-old can do.
The day goes by very quickly, and it just felt surreal. By the time I finally step into reality, I'm already there. And I hear the Capitol accent. It's time.
"Welcome, district 11. Happy hunger games, and May the odds be ever in your favor" It's going to be me. "I'm here to announce you the 74th annual hunger games' tributes" She's going to call my name. "But first we have a gift, from the Capitol to us."
«Great gift» I think to myself. A four minutes long video explaining how much we own them and how much respect we must have for them. 'Respect' for the ones who might take me away. And if it's not me, it will be someone I know. District 11 doesn't exactly have a lot of people, when someone dies, you can feel them missing.
"We must continue!" I feel my heart falling to my stomach as she pronounces the next words "Ladies first!" She puts her hands in the bowl and pulls out a paper. It's not going to be my name. It's not late to be positive. It's not going to be me.
But it's me.
I start to walk and I keep expecting my sister to volunteer. I keep expecting someone to say something, and it doesn't happen. Everybody is looking at me, and I can see my mom now. She's looking right at me, and she's crying.
Then I'm up in the podium and the woman from the Capitol calls the male tribute, and it's Thresh
«This cannot be happening. Wake up. Wake up, Rue» I try to convince myself it's a nightmare.
I have known Thresh all my life; he's a brother to me. Now he's probably going to have to kill me.