Prim doesn't cry.
She hasn't cried, not since Dad died.
Katniss didn't talk about it, and so Prim doesn't, either.
They didn't cry when the sirens went off. Didn't cry when they were herded towards the mines without a word, their minds and imagination left to think about the horror. She didn't cry when the families reunited; didn't cry when the lifts brought up twenty, to twelve, to five, to two and to zero.
Prim didn't cry, not when Katniss took her by the hand and led them home.
But when her Mom, sobbing, cradled the two of them in her arms and held to them like a lifeline, as they numbly listened to her heaving sobs, crying so hard until she'd exhausted all her tears—
Prim's seven when her Dad died in the explosion in the mine.
She hadn't cried since then.
Prim's eight when Katniss starts signing up for tesserae.
Katniss signs up for them under her name; one for herself, one for their Mom, and one for Prim.
Prim's done the math. Katniss enters three times each year. By eighteen, Katniss would have 28 tesserae entries in the fishbowl.
Each month, Prim takes the grain mutely from Katniss' hands, and she begins to wash and cook, as the Hunger Games' highlight reel that ran in the background distracted her from work.
Prim's eight when Katniss has to take tesserae to support the family.
Prim doesn't cry.
Prim's nine when Johanna Mason won the 71st Hunger Games.
Johanna Mason won by pretending to be weak. Johanna Mason was overlooked by everyone; by Casear Flickerman, by the Capitol and by the Careers.
Nobody saw it coming when Johanna Mason prowled through the victorious Careers, and stole the title of the Victor of the 71st Hunger Games.
Prim decides that she likes Johanna Mason.
Prim's ten when she receives a goat from Katniss.
It's one of the rare moments when they earn more money than they need, and after Katniss considers on whether to buy a hairbrush or cloth for Prim, she decides to buy a goat.
Prim names it Lady, and tries not to think about Katniss' eleven slips in the bowl.
Prim's eleven.
Prim's eleven when Katniss' name is entered into the bowl fifteen times.
Prim's eleven, when she's cooking dinner as her Mom howls wracking sobs and realises that her Mom's not getting any better.
Prim's eleven, when Katniss angrily tells her that Mom is beyond help.
Prim doesn't cry.
Prim's twelve, and she's reaped.
Out of the thousands of people in District 12, Prim's reaped.
Her eyes are puffy, but she doesn't cry.
She musters a breath, takes in a scent of home, and chest puffed out, shoulders folded in, she walks towards the Capitol's podium, as the forlorn crowd makes way for her death.
A cry shrieks from the back, and it takes a moment for the voice to register in her mind.
Katniss'.
''I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!''
And as Prim's ushered into the crowd, as the people of Twelve make way for her sister's newfound fate, and now it's her that utters the hoarse scream—
Prim doesn't cry. She hasn't cried, not since Dad died and left them all alone.
It was soft droplets at first. So quiet, so tiny that it wouldn't count as tears. But then, the dam widened as the waves cascaded into a waterfall, crashed into the empty ponds below, and then Prim's shrieking, screaming Katniss' name, as her sister's hand is forced into the sky by the Capitol and the lady tells the rousing crowd to cheer—
Prim doesn't cry. She sniffles, she wipes away the droplets, but she doesn't cry.
She couldn't, not when she'd stopped for so long now.