Disclaimer: This story is based on 'The Hunger Games' by Suzanne Collins. I own no one but the main character. I don't make money off this.
I wake with a start from the bright, shining sun blinding me through the window. Covering my eyes, I turn over and hope to be met with another warm body but there is no one. "Dolph?" I croak out, sleep still evident in my voice. Silence is my answer. He must have gone while I was sleeping. Wouldn't want anyone to catch him coming out of my room.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, a look of disappointment briefly crossing my face. I shrug and stand, making my way to the bathroom. A part of me wants to be angry that he left me in bed alone on reaping day, but the other part of me is thinking 'You knew what you were getting yourself into.'
It's true, I did. I've been fooling around with Dolph Ziggler behind everyone's back for 6 months now and I'd known since I met him that he'd be trouble. We met in FCW. I had been ring announcing at the time. The moment he flashed me that winning smile, I knew I was a goner. There was just something about him that pulled me in. I knew that I couldn't leave him alone if I tried. We love each other, and we are both aware of each other's feelings, but I love you's are rare between us. He seems to like it this way, so I never complain. He's told me time and time again how he'd like me to be his girlfriend, but those are just words. I believe the reason he hesitates is his ex-girlfriend, Maria Kanellis. She lives in the Indy District now, but she is still in love with him. He swears up and down that the feeling isn't mutual, but I'm no fool.
They still talk a lot, and if word got around that we were seeing each other, she would be crushed. So we creep around to avoid hurting her feelings. Or at least that's what he says. Sometimes I think he still messes around with her, but since I'm not officially his girlfriend, I'm in no place to ask.
I brush my teeth, comb the curly mess I call hair, and begin to pick out my dress for the reaping. Years ago, the six districts of the wrestling business revolted against the WWE. Together, they stood strong, but when the ECW District was obliterated by the WWE, resistance became impossible, as the ECW District was the driving force behind the rebellion. The remaining districts submitted to the WWE and lost their hope for change.
Every year, each district holds a reaping ceremony. Two large glass balls contain slips of paper with each wrestler's first and last name. A person's name is entered each year from the moment they are eligible. The entries are cumulative, and each year another slip is added to the glass ball for the number of years the person has been there. However, they can choose to add their name more times in exchange for pushes. Often times their pushes are poorly written and unorganized and they are very unsuccessful, but the people of the wrestling business are so desperate for their talent to be recognized, they risk their lives by putting their names in more times. The wrestlers who are picked are then sent to WWE Headquarters for a week of training, and then sent into a vast arena to fight to the death until only one tribute remains. This event is called The Hunger Games.
The district's representative picks a name out of the balls, one ball is for the girls and the other for the boys. The tributes whose names are chosen are then entered into the Games, unless someone is willing to volunteer - a normally quite rare phenomenon unless it is in one of the "Career District", also known as the RAW District, the district in which superstars and divas have been training since the start of their careers for the Games. The reaping ceremony is also treated like a celebration to all districts. The wrestlers dress up and sometimes give gifts to each other. They also tend to celebrate after the reaping is over, except of course for the people who are chosen who are busy saying their goodbyes.
As I'm rummaging through my suitcase for something to wear, I begin to wonder what will happen if my name is called. The mere thought of my name being picked is too much to bear. My breathing becomes ragged and I begin to feel queasy. I sit on the bed and put my head between my legs, taking deep breaths.
Since this is my first year in the WWE, my name is only in once, so I'm about as safe as anyone could get. But even though the odds are in my favor, my name is still in the glass ball that Lillian Garcia will dig her hand into, and my name could still be picked. I squeeze my eyes shut, and pray to God that it isn't me.
My phone beeps, telling me that I've just received a text message. I run to retrieve it from its place on the dresser, hoping it will be Dolph. But when I open the text, I see that it is only an automated message from WWE Headquarters reminding everyone to dress nicely and be on time to the reaping.
My mind wanders to the other people on the rosters that have been here for years. The people whose names are in it over 20 times. The odds are not in their favor, and here I am getting sick over my name being entered once. I blush, feeling embarrassed that I'm acting like such a baby.
Once I pick out a decent dress, I throw on some pants and a shirt and head down to breakfast with the other wrestlers. I sit alone at a table in the corner of the cafe, eating a bowl of chewy oatmeal. I am so lost in my thoughts that I barely notice Brie when she sits next to me, a bowl of fruit in her hands. She's talking, but I'm barely paying her any attention. Then she says something about Dolph, and I am automatically snapped back to reality.
"What? What did you say?" I ask around a mouthful of oatmeal.
"I said Dolph Ziggler's name is in 45 times."
A chunk of oatmeal gets caught in my throat and I begin to cough. Brie is patting my back, asking if I'm okay. I nod, but in the inside I am a nervous wreck. What if Dolph is picked? Could he be the one to stay alive out of 20 other tributes? I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Dolph's name won't be picked. I reassure myself, but this does little to soothe me.
The room is beginning to feel stuffy and I start to breathe heavily. I stand abruptly, tossing my bowl in the trash, telling Brie that I'm heading up to my room. On the way up there, I bump into Nicole, Brie's twin sister. We exchange hellos, but I can tell by the look on her face that she is just as worried about the reaping as I am. I wish her good luck, and continue to my room, locking myself inside.
I look at the time on my phone and see that I have about an hour to get ready before the reaping begins. I run myself a warm bath and focus on scrubbing myself clean. I put on the outfit I laid out for myself before breakfast. A simple white eyelet lace dress, and matching sandals. I leave my hair as it is in soft waves and put on a white headband. I examine myself in the mirror and realize that the outfit makes me look innocent, almost child-like. I take a deep breath and smooth my dress out, checking the time again. Thirty minutes. Good. I have time to swing by Dolph's room. Maybe we can walk down together.
When I get to Dolph's room, I find that he's already left, so I have no choice but to head down to the reaping by myself. When I arrive at the reaping site, I sign in and I'm immediately ushered to stand with the other diva's facing, the ring where there's a podium, three chairs and the two glass bowls that hold the names of the tributes that will be chosen. In the bowl to the right, there's a little white slip of paper with Kianna Kelly written on it in careful handwriting.
The three chairs are meant for our district representative, Lillian Garcia, our mentor, Mike Mizanin, and the Smackdown general manager, Teddy Long. We are supposed to have two mentors but Smackdown hasn't had a victor in years, and Mike Mizanin is the only victor still alive. He won his games by surviving until there were only four tributes left , including himself, and sniped the remaining tributes from the trees with a dart gun.
Soon, General Manager, Teddy Long, steps up to the podium and begins to read. It's the same story from years before. He is telling the history of the WWE and how The Hunger Games came about. The Hunger Games is to remind us how we're at the WWE's mercy and how we would not have any chance at surviving another rebellion.
"It is a time for repentance and a time for thanks," says the general manager.
He then introduces Lillian Garcia, our district representative. Lillian walks to the podium and greets us all with a "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor. " She flips her hair over her shoulder and goes on about how it is an honor to be here. Through the crowd, I spot Dolph. He looks back at me and smiles. And suddenly I'm thinking of him and his forty-five names in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in his favor. It's time for the drawing.
"Ladies first!" Lillian says as she crosses to the ball with the girls' names. She reaches in, digs her perfectly manicured hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. Everything is silent and you could hear a pin drop. I cross my fingers, and I am hoping, and praying, and hoping some more that it is not me. Lillian goes back to the podium, smooths the slip of paper, and reads out the name in an enthusiastic voice.
And it is me. It's me. Kianna Denise Kelly.