Bethany Mandate - Stories From an Unvictorious Tribute
Reaping Day. I held my breath as District 8's escort, Linskey Riverest dipped her hand inside the reaping bowl. Who was it going to be this year? Every year, on this day, one boy and girl from our district was selected to fight in the Hunger Games. Someones family was about to be broken. Four parents were going to lose their babies. To be sacrifieced to the Capitiol that they hate. Yes every year, these two families were going to watch their little children be slaughtered on live TV. They desperately want to rush to the aid of their little boy or girl, but instead are forced to watch them get helplessly murdered, with no ability to save them. Who was it going to be this year? Linskey had the name in her hand. The very person who was going to die.
Her voice rang loud and clear : "Bethany Mandell! " boomed over the microphone. I was in shock. I was wondering if I had heard the name right. No, it just had to be wrong. There must be a mistake! Who was Bethany Mandell? She was me. I only had my name in 5 times! I was only 16. How could this be happening to me? No. It had to be a dream. I even pinched myself. I didn't wake up. With tears in my eyes,I walked up into the stage, taking a last look at my district. I knew, I would never see home again. Everything was in slow motion. I couldn't hear anything. I could barely see through my tears. Linskey was dipping her perfectly manicured hand into the reaping bowl. The name she read was unbearable.
"Jason Blancing!" That name shook me to the point of even more tears. I had to hold back my tears the best I could. Jason and I had grown up together in 8. /He was my best friend. Maybe even more than that. We will never get the chance to find out now. These evil Games will tear us apart. Our families, our friendship, ripped apart by the Games. As he walked up onto the stage, we didn't hesitate to embrace eachother. He seemed to stunned speak, other than, "It will be okay." I hung onto his words, even though I knew it wouldn't be. We were escorted into separate rooms in our Justice Building. We each got exactly two minutes to say goodbye to the ones we loved. Two minutes. No more, no less. Only two minutes for a weeping mother to hold and speak to her frighted child one last time. Telling the child that it will be alright, that they would see eachother soon, even thought, they both know the harsh bitter reality: They were never coming home. My parents burst into the room and scoop me up in their arms. Im too choked up to speak, all that I can muscle out between tears is "I'll miss you." With tears in his eyes, my father gives me one last hug, and kisses me on the forehead and says, "See you soon." He barely muscle out a smile, for me, even though he's about to burst into tears. ''Two Minutes is up!" calls out a stern looking Peacekeeper. He has to push them out the door. "I will make it home!" I call out just as the door slams shut, and the two people I love the most are gone forever.