Hello! This is my first ever Hunger Games fanfiction. I was always curious as to what Prim's thoughts were when her name was called at the reaping. This one-shot will be told from Prim's point of view. I hope you enjoy this! I do not own the Hunger Games or any of its characters.
"Primrose Everdeen!" Effie's overly perky voice cut through the suspenseful silence like a knife.
Primrose Everdeen. Primrose Everdeen. Primrose Everdeen. Me.
That can't be right. My name was only in there once. Is this some kind of sick joke? I can't possibly be reaped into the Hunger Games when it's only my first official reaping. I look for Katniss, so she can tell me that this is just a big misunderstanding. Katniss. Katniss. Katniss.
But Katniss promised! She lied to me. She said that there was no chance of my name being picked. On the other hand, she has absolutely no control over the name that's chosen. Anyways, I can't afford to be angry with her, even if I did have a real reason to be. I only have a few days left to even think about her before….
I honestly never thought that death would greet me so quickly. Yesterday I was picking flowers, just marveling at their beauty, my innocence surrounding me like a shield. All violence and misfortune banished by my happiness. But, the odds are apparently not in my favor.
My entire body goes numb. I look to the people to my right, then to my left. This will be the last time I see any of them. They clear a pathway for me. Of course they do. I practically radiate death. A little girl like me isn't going to even last a day in the arena. I slowly walk forward, no longer a sweet, innocent girl. In the last minute, I've become a tribute to the Hunger Games.
Why do these games even have to exist? How will Panem benefit by children fighting to the death? I've been told, every year, that the Games prevent uprisings, but I fail to understand how. I would think that the parents of the children that have died in the arena would rebel, at least voice their pain to the Capitol about the loss of their child. Maybe, when I die, I will spark something. If I can make the people of Panem fall in love with me, my death will anger them and make them realize that the peace isn't worth the price.
I straighten up and tuck my shirt in. If I am going to meet with death, I am going to do it on my terms, leaving behind a legacy I want left behind. I freeze when I hear an all too familiar voice from the crowd.
"I volunteer as tribute!"
I hope you enjoyed that! I remember reading in the books that Katniss described Prim as wise for her age, so I wrote this story that way. Reviews are very much appreciated!