-Chapter 1: The Reaping-
Nobody expected the announcement for the 76th Hunger Game. We were told that there weren't going to be any more games. We thought that, with the death of the old Capitol president , Snow, things would be different. Innocent lives would be spared.
We were dead wrong.
No one knew that Plutarch was power-hungry until the assassination of president Paylor took place. Even then, it was too late to stop him from accomplishing his goals, which, to be honest, weren't too different than Snow's. He had ordered Peacekeepers to guard and discipline in each district even before the assassination took place. Of course, everyone thought nothing of it, considering that Paylor had kept her word from the beginning. Even Katniss, the former Mockingjay, the idol of the entire population of Panem, was surprised.
The Districts were almost in another rebellion before the Peacekeepers stepped in. The number of the troops seemed to double, almost triple, in size as compared to Snow's former army, and we learned very quickly that there was nothing we could do. Totally under the power of Plutarch, the rebellion died off in a matter of hours. They had won.
Now, every person from District 12 stood together, holding their breath as they anticipated the dreaded reaping. Since I lived alone, the Montly name was entered a total of seven times; six because of I'm seventeen and once for tesserae. Hopefully, since the numbers are in my odds, my name won't be the one picked out of the glass ball. One can only hope.
The ceremony began as per usual. The mayor took the stage, beginning with a few kind words of encouragement as a futile attempt of lightening the mood. He reminded us that "it is a time for repentance and a time for thanks." Yeah, okay, I think to myself, spitting distastefully at the phrase. The response was, again, silence. He sighed audibly, before beckoning a representative of the Capitol to take the stage.
A woman stepped forward, smiling a painfully obvious fake smile. "Welcome," she began, grasping the microphone with her hand, "to the 76th annual Hunger Games Reaping!" There was no response. "May the odds be ever in your favor!" Out of sheer spite, I distorted my face and mimic her accent, cursing under my breath. She introduces herself as Rachel Cauthy, a seemingly fake woman that was forced into her job position by Plutarch. At least, that's what I got out of it. She turned and walked forward to the nearest glass bowl, exclaiming "Ladies first!" before opening the lid and rustled the papers inside for a moment before grasping one with her forefinger and thumb. Taking it out, I can almost hear the heartbeats reverberate throughout the assembly as she crosses back to the podium. "Alice Heart."
Silence. I saw a young girl walk up the stairs, color completely flushed from her face as she shakily made her way to Rachel's side. Nobody said a word as Rachel asked for any volunteers. I couldn't help but pity the girl. She didn't seem to be any older than thirteen, at most, maybe younger. Rachel then paced to the other side of the stage, bending forward to retrieve a second piece of paper before scurrying back to the podium. Again, you could hear the crowd draw in a collective breath before she opened the paper and smoothed it across the edge of the podium frame. "Dean Mellark."
Now normally, that name wouldn't have bothered me the way it did. Hell, I should be relieved that my name wasn't called. But the last name sounded too familiar, and the feeling stuck in my stomach as a boy about my age climbed the stairs, a look of almost defeat creeping across his features, as he took a stand next to Alice. And then it hit me.
That is Katniss's and Peeta's son.
The idea caused me to feel nauseous. First, his parents had to suffer the harshness of the games only to have their son go through the same thing on the first reaping since the Quarter Quell. I scanned the crowd quickly, locking my gaze on Katniss and her husband, Peeta, as she wept on his shoulder, their daughter clinging onto both of them as she stared her brother in the face, her face almost as white as Alice's. I heard my voice holler something before I knew what was going on. "I volunteer!"
This caused quite a scene. First, the whole room fell silent. I heard someone breathing heavily. Was it me? I couldn't tell, but I repeated my words. "I volunteer." I made no facial features readable as I ascended the stairs and refused to look Dean in the eyes. Rachel was positively giddy.
"Oh, don't want Dean to take the spotlight? Well, alright, then. Dean, you're free to leave." Never in my life had I felt my heart flutter the way it was at this very moment. I refused to look up at any of the Mellark's. I couldn't bare to look them in the eyes. I was saved when Rachel pushed the microphone into my face and asked me my name.
"Damian. Damian Montly," I managed to croak out, now realizing that my throat is completely dry. Rachel seemed to take no heed of my nervousness, as she nonchalantly puts her arm over my shoulder, giving me a gentle shake.
During the rest of the assembly, I could feel the stares burning me from every direction. My head was kept down, my hair hiding any eye visibility that would be shown. Thank goodness for long hair, I thought, giving my it a little shake. It was only when Alice and I were being ushered of the stage did I look up, my eyes immediately locking with that of Katniss's, whose lips were pursed and eyes were gleaming with relief. She nodded at me, and I returned the favor before we were thrown into a carriage and whisked away from District 12.
-Chap. 1 fin-
Let me just say that the Hunger Games trilogy is positively gorgeous in every way possible. Since reading the books, I couldn't stop thinking about what happens next if such and such happened. It's an amazing series and I'm so happy that I read them.
I know this chapter is really, really short, but it's more of a prologue than an actual chapter, but, eh, whatever. I promise that it'll get longer the more the story progresses. I'm not sure if I should hold a contest for tribute spots or not. For right now, the answer is no. But I'll think about it.
Thanks for reading, and, please, any review is appreciated.
