Panem. District Seven. The Seventy Second Hunger Games. Reaping Day.
Her hands were shaking.
Smoothing out the white cotton dress her mother laid out for her every day of the reaping since she turned fourteen, Quinn tried to focus on her breathing. It was no use, the shaking continued, moving throughout her entire body. The only thought going through her mind was to keep from throwing up as she walked up the creaking wooden stairs.
A piece of light blonde hair had fallen in her face, and Quinn couldn't seem to tell her hand to push it back in it's place behind her ear. But she had to look presentable; she was the mayor's daughter after all.
She was already thinking in past tense. Her fate was clear to her.
In a few weeks, she'd be dead.
As Quinn looked out at the crowd before her, she noticed not one person was crying. Usually when a victor is chosen, someone cried, wept for the soon to be dead child. No even her parents were shedding a tear. She could see the pity in their eyes, though, and the relief from the other possible female tributes in her district.
Quinn had barely realized the male tribute had been chosen. A boy named Ryder Lynn. He was a fifteen, only two years younger then her, but he was tall. And muscular. He probably spent much of his day chopping wood, and she already figured it'd be her best bet to ally with him. Maybe he could keep her alive for a few days.
Suddenly a gloved hand was grabbing her arm and pulling her off the stage. It belonged to the woman the capitol had sent to District Seven, but Quinn couldn't remember her name at the moment.
Taking a final look back at District Seven, because Quinn was sure this was the last time she'd see these tree's and the blue sky, her built up walls broke and she finally let her tears fall.