The Odds Were Never In My Favour

{Chapter 1}

An eerie silence washes over the crowd as Nalah Hannings rises from her seat on the stage and strides towards the microphone. "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour!" she shrills in her painfull Capitol accent. "Ladies first!"

I scowl and focus my attention on the large screeens surrounding the square and catch a glimps of myself as the camera glances over the potential male tributes. The Mothers and Fathers towards the back of the crowd's faces are filled with worry and hate as the pray their children's names are not picked.

Somewhere among them with similar expressions will be my Mother and younger brother, just as sick with worry as the rest of them.

I look up when Nalah clears her throat and digs her hand into the reaping ball, fishing around the bottom for the slip of paper that will cause many people to lose who they love dearly. It's bad enough that every year we have to send off two tributes, one male and one female like lambs for slaughter but this year being the Quarter Quell we have to send double the amount of children.

"Ladies and Gentlemen the first female tribute for this years 50th Hunger Games is...Maysilee Donner!"

I hear a few people gasp and start sobbing but refuse to turn around and look at the tribute who no doubt will be dead within a few weeks. My attention goes to my shoes as she stumbles up to the stage.

Poor girl. I think to myself, her name doesn't sound familiar so she can't be from the seam, therefore must be a spoilt town child who won't have a clue what hunger and sickness feels like. She doesn't stand a chance.

"Now for the second female tribute!" Nalah's voice is so painful and high pitched I want to scream at her to just shut up and speak properly. Surely the babies in the capitol don't start out speaking in such a ridiculous manor, it has to be on purpose.

"And the last female tribute is...Sarah Reagin!" More gasps and strangled cries escape people's mouths as the second female tribute's name is called. I swallow hard and force myself to look at anything but the stage and the two girls who will soon be dead.

"Now for the boy's" Why does she always have to sound so happy? The usuall feeling of nausia washes through me as the possibilty of my name being called arises. Everyone becomes so silent you can hear the rustle of the slips as Nahlah searches for yet another person to slaughter.

"And the first male tribute is... Haymitch Albernathy!"

Shit!

I take a shallow breath and make my way towards the stage, the crowd making a perfect path for me. I sneek a glance at the people around me, their faces filled with sympathy as the pat me on the back or whisper luck to me and then immediatly fix my gaze back to my shoes and the gritty ground I walk on.

I climb the steps and shake the Mayors hand before taking my place beside Maysilee and Sahrah. I'm trying not to look at anything in particular but somehow my eyes find the distraught faces of my Mother and brother. Their grey eyes filled with tears and their dark, seam hair falling across their faces. I want to suddenly run to them and hold them close, reassuring them that everything will be okay.

But nothings going to be okay...

A foul, gut-wrenching sickness ceases my body and I suddenly feel like throwing up. I look at the girls beside me for the first time, noticing that the one with flowing black hair, whom I believe is Sarah is making strange, hick-uping sounds and realise she's crying. What! Is she really that stupid! Appearing weak will make you a persons first target in the games, not to mention you look stupid on live TV. The stronger you appear, the more sponsers you're likely to get.

I inhale a shaky breath and stare across the crowd, not looking at anything in particular just taking everything in since it will probably be the last time I see District 12.

"And the second male tribute is...Connar Reagin!" hearing Nahlah's voice again sends a burning rage through my veins and I suddenly want to choke her right here in front of all of Panem. I feel my hands form into fists and force myself to mentally count to ten, which calms me down a little.

As much as I like to think it would help, killing Nahlah isn't going to get me many fans in these games, so instead I grit my teeth and watch the next unlucky bastard make his way to the stage.

In a way I envy him, he's easily six feet tall and is strong an angular. Quite a looker also, he'll have no problem getting into the careers pack if he plays his cards well.

Next to me I hear a heart-wrenching sob escape Sarah's mouth once again and suddenly connect that her and the boy have the same last names. Brother and Sister. I guess luck doesn't run in that family. As the last tribute of the day reaches the stage and embraces his sister, the crowd begins to murmer and whisper amoung itself.

"Silence!" bellows the mayor, stepping up and taking centre stage. "I now present to you District 12's tributes for the 50th Hunger Games and the second Quarter Quell," he gestures to each of us saying our names and waiting for applause that never comes.

As the reaping comes to a close I am forced to shake hands with the other tributes and make my way to the justice building to say my final good byes to my family. Two armed, peacekeepers dressed in their usual white uniforms direct me down a series of halls and into an elevator, that smells like sour milk. I watch them press a button with the number 3 on it. Must be because I'm the third tribute this year. I wonder if they had two whole new rooms built just for the Quarter Quell?

"Take a seat and wait for your visitors," instructs one of the peacekeepers as the elvevator door opens, revealing a luxurious room decorated with red. Red chairs, red carpet, red walls, even red flowers in red vases.

I cross the room and take a seat on a velvet couch, which is suprisingly stiff and uncomfortable. Before I really get a chance to take in my surroundings the sound of the door behind me opening causes me to immediately rise and spin around.

Mother and Dechlan rush through the door and embrace me, tears falling freely from their eyes. For a moment we're completely silent letting our emotions finally show now there's no cameras.

"Promise me you'll come home," my Mother whimpers into my shoulder "promise me you'll win this."

My own tears fall rapidly down my cheeks and onto Dechlan's head. "I'll do everything in my power too..." I don't say it but surely she understands that there are now fourty-eight tributes in the arena this year and that the odds certainly aren't in my favour.

We all step back and take a seat on the couch, Dechlan clinging to my arm with a grip that could easily snap a cats neck. I look into their eyes and try to appear strong and ready to go into battle, instead the tears just keep falling from my unreasonable eyes.

"If I don't come back...and I'm not here to look after the place. Can you you promise me one thing?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

"What..?" Dechlan's voice is filled with so much pain I feel like I'm dying inside.

"Never apply for tesserae. I promise you if I can't win, I'll ensure a District 12 tribute does, and you should get enough grain to survive the winter," I face my Mother "promise you'll never let Dechlan go through this?" I'm practically begging more so than asking.

"...I promise" her voice is barely a whisper.

"Times up!" The peackeeper's voice booms from behind us. We quickly embrace for last time saying our final goodbyes and before I know it I'm practically being dragged out of the Justice building and into a car, with one other tribute by my side. Maysilee Donner.

I try to avoid looking out the windows, not wanting to see what I'm leaving behind, but I've never been in a car and facination gets the better of me, its rather amazing watching our District's streets dissapear in a blur.

When we reach the train station its almost painful how slowly they are at guiding us through the crowd of various camera's and reporters, and I find myself, pushing people roughly or yelling at them to move.

"Be carefull, if you upset these people they might tell the capitol not to sponser our district." Maysilee whispers to me, and I ignore it by shoving a creepy, camera guy with a bright, red and purple afro into a pole.

Finally after what feels like hours rather than minutes we're boarded onto the train and on our way to the Capitol. I look out the window and watch as District 12 slowly dissapears from sight. I breath a sigh of sadness and pray that if or when I die, its not too gruesome for my family.

"Care for a cold beverage?" Asks one of the attendants, holding out a sparkling glass of what appears to be orange juice, but then again its hard to tell, I've never had an orange. Despite my intrigue and couriosity as to what it tastes like I decline, knowing that my greif will simply prevent anything I ingest from staying down.

I make my way to my room, and slump onto the bed, feeling homesick already. I roll onto my side, and sqeeze my eyes shut trying to imagine I'm back home helping Mother with the washing. A boring but simple task, that I'd give anything to be doing right now.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it, I worked really hard on this :D Haymitch is one of my favourite characters from The Hunger Games and I wanted to write something in his perspective. Please rate and review, all criticism welcome and let me know if there's anything I've truly stuffed up. Chapter two is on its way :)