On the day of the reaping, I woke up early, just as the sun was rising through my window. My forehead was covered in sweat and my breath was heavy. I dreamt I was being chased, running and running, away from something, I don't know what. I turned over, wanting to go back to sleep, burying my head into my pillow, until I realised that lying next to me, my little sister was sobbing into hers. I sat up gently, and placed my small, rough hand onto the grubby cotton of Daisy's nightdress to comfort her. I felt her head curl in towards my chest, and I wrapped my arm around her tiny, vulnerable body to protect her. "I'll be fine", I whispered. "It won't be me. It can't be me". That was what I had been trying to tell myself for months, but no matter how much I wanted to believe it, there was always another voice in the back of mind saying that it could be me this time. I wasn't safe anymore. I would never be safe again. I had always been worried about today, I knew that this time the odds were in my favour, my name was only in once, but once was enough.
After I had rinsed the residue of the dirt from the orchards from my skin, I carefully put on my new dress. It was blue, like the colour of the sky, my favourite colour. It reminded me of freedom, something I knew I would never have again. I knew that my mother had chosen it for me, for today, and a tear slid its way down my cheek. What if it was me? I wiped my eyes; I didn't want my sisters to see that I was scared; it would only make them feel worse.
We shared breakfast in silence, no-one wanted to mention what was going to happen later. I caught Daisy's eye across the table, and nervously smiled at her, but she looked away, as if I was a ghost, a bad memory that she didn't want to think about.
When it was time to go, we walked together to the square, holding hands in a line. I separated from the rest of my family to go and register, and as I pulled away, my mother squeezed my hand with a sad smile of hope. I returned it, I wanted to reassure her, but I was being carried with the crowd towards the registration tables.
I stood in the queue with some other girls, about my own age, but no-one was talking or laughing like they usually would. Everyone's heads hung low, and no-one looked at anything but their own feet. When I reached the front, the peace-keeper grabbed my arm and held it out in front of him. It only hurt a little when they had to smudge some of my blood into the book, I was thinking of my sisters, who would have to do this in the future, and shuddered when I thought about how scared they would be. The peace-keeper motioned me forwards, and I almost thought I saw a regretful glint in his eyes.
I shuffled forwards, and stood next to all of the other girls my age, took a deep breath, and crossed my fingers by my sides.