Being alone isn't necessarily a bad thing. With no mother and father, there's no one to command you to do things. With no siblings there's no one to bother you. With no friends or family there's no one to love which means there's no one to lose. But it also means there's no one to cry for you when you're gone.
Chapter 1: A Fatal Mistake
When I awaken there is something foul in the air. I hop out of my small bed, quickly and quietly, just as I do every morning. I cross the room to look into the cracked mirror. A girl with a long face and sly features stares back at me. She is small and would be forgettable except for the large mass of orange and red hair that bounces in curls around her face. This girl is me. I should name her, I think vaguely as I run a partially broken brush through my hair. Yes, I do not have a name. No one knows me and I like it that way.
As I scan the one room house for my boots I think about today. The big day. It is the annual reapings for the Hunger Games, a big death arena used to entertain the people of the Capitol. I smile at my cleverness. I will never get picked since I have no name and no one really knows me anyway. I have already survived the reaping this way for three years and I am confident. I have no friends or family and I am usually unnoticed if I pull my hair back into a pony tail and wear a hoodie which is what I am doing now. I am preparing to go get some breakfast. Living in an old cottage with one room I don't have a stove or oven like most people in District 5 do. Therefore I have to use any means available to me to earn food. Obviously the solution to this is stealing.
I live near the market so the walk is short. Once I get there I can tell what the disgusting smell that I awoke to was. Black fumes rise up and curl into the air from the factories not far off. Of course on the reaping day no one here will get time off like most districts since we have to run the electricity all over Panem. I wrinkle my nose and walk through the cracked streets looking for suitable foods to eat. A fruit stand catches my attention. While the vendor is busy selling some strawberries to an elderly lady I snag an apple and shove it into my jacket pocket. When the stand is out of sight I take it out and bite into it, letting the delicious juice run over my tongue. This is pretty much my whole morning, snatching a loaf here, grabbing a bite to eat there. I continue to do this until I am, well, not quite full but at least staving off the hunger for now.
Hydration, however, is another matter. I'm not sure how it works in other districts but here in District 5 we are given a bucket to fill with water once a month. At the beginning of every month the Peacekeepers open the well to let the each family scoop up they're water. If your family misses the chance to do this then you're out of luck because they won't open the well again till the next new month. I have already gathered my water and so head back home for a drink. We're supposed to use the water for bathing and drinking but I see no point in baths so I just consume it, occasionally washing my hair in it, which is what I plan to do today. When I reach the house I scoop a small handful of slightly muddy liquid and splash it into my mouth. It washes out the taste of the food but it also dampens my mouth and throat which are dryer than the desert. After taking two more gulps I reluctantly stop and then stand up stretching.
I decide to take a nap since I have no family to support or a job to be working. As thin and bony as I am I am never tired since I mostly sleep all day. As I lie down I decide to allow myself one more gulp of water when I open my eyes since today is the reaping. I never do get that drink of water.
I leap out of bed as soon as I hear footsteps. My senses are alert and ready until I realize that the sounds are coming from people passing outside my house. A quick glance out the window tells me all I need to know. It is time for the reaping. I don't have time for a leisurely drink but I do take some water and splash it over myself, hoping it washes off most of the grime. I tear off my clothes and fly to the chest up against the bed. In it lays a plain, emerald green, spring dress. It is sleeveless with only thin straps to hold it up and it's the most expensive thing I have. It is also my second and last outfit, my first being a t shirt with a pair of jeans and a jacket. Next to it in the chess is a pair of matching green cloth shoes. Not very fancy but the color goes wonderfully with my hair.
Quickly slipping the dress on I pull my hair out of its ponytail and let it hang free. I rush as quickly as I can until I blend into the crowd that is flowing towards the main square. When we reach our destination where a large stage is set up the crowd straightens to form a line. Each person stops at a table to get they're blood draw. The prick doesn't hurt too much and it's only on the tip of the finger. After they take a drop I am directed to the fifteen year old section. A few minutes of waiting pass by and I tap my foot impatiently. I know I will not get picked, so why bother pretending to be scared?
Soon a woman with what looks like a ball gown on steps onto the stage. As she walks a few feathers that rest in her neon pink hair fall to the ground. I've never bothered to learn her name since she has nothing to do with me. She taps the microphone with a perfectly manicured nail that has been painted in a bright lime green. "Hello," She starts before the microphone whines and cuts her off. After messing with it for a little while, she tries again. "Hello! You probably all know me, Fergana Welts, the one who will be escorting one young man and woman to the Capital!" She squeals as if this is the most exciting moment in her life and then continues. "Of course before we begin there are a few things to take care of." While she speaks a giant screen is turning on and beginning to play. A booming voice rings out, telling the story of the Dark Days and why we have the Hunger Games. After the video is over Fergana gets up from the chair next to a slightly drunken mentor. I smirk, thinking of who will have to put up with him. She clears her throat importantly and then places her hand above the first fish bowl. "As always, ladies first." She says. Her bubbly voice and Capital accent is giving me a slight headache what with the way she ends her sentence in a sharp and high pitch.
Her hand is quick to pick up a crumpled piece of paper from the glass bowl. Her perfect mouth parts open in a slight "o" and she reads the name loudly, "Trissa Novellas, age 15." Everyone looks around in confusion. No one knows of a Trissa, and in District 5 everybody knows everybody. Fergana's brow furrows when no one walks to the stage. She repeats the name but still no one moves. Suddenly a girl with long brown hair glances at me and whispers to her friend. I am puzzled before I realize she must think that I am Trissa. More and more people glance at me. They don't know my name or who I am so I must be Trissa. The movement in the crowd does not go unnoticed and Fergana scans the people until her eyes lock with mine. "Ah," She says smiling, "You must be Trissa. Come on, don't be shy." "No." I try to speak but my voice is a hoarse whisper from under use and lack of water. No one can hear me.
Peacekeepers drag to the stage and lift me up till I'm standing next to the escort. She smiles at me and then continues with the reaping. I'm not listening though because I can't process anything. I shouldn't be up here. My name isn't Trissa. But no one will ever know that because my voice won't work.
