"Come on now, child. Come on," Athenadora said softly. I tried. I tried so hard, just to get up onto the stage, but it was proving too difficult. My body was stiffened with shock, terror and overriding fear.
"Don't faint, don't faint," I whispered to myself, forcing myself to walk faster.
After what seemed to be an age, I managed to get myself onto stage. My father couldn't meet my eyes.
"Now, sweetheart," Athenadora said patronisingly, "Your Daddy won the Hunger Games, do you think you can follow his legacy?"
She put her skinny, ice cold arm around him, her bright pink tutu digging into my side. What was that thing made of? It felt like barbed wire.
"I'll..."I struggled to get the words out, "I'll try my best," I mumbled, looking out into the crowd. Several people, including children, were crying. Emmett was staring. Just staring into nothingness as if deep in thought. I knew he'd never meant what he said. It was just something to make me feel better about the reaping. How was he meant to know I'd ever be reaped? The odds were in my favour truly. I wouldn't blame him if he did nothing. I would have never been able to do the same.
"And now, to pick a fine younger gentleman to accompany our champion's daughter. What a lucky boy this-"
"I volunteer as tribute," Emmett suddenly cut in. I couldn't help smiling just a little. Although he'd kept his word, I still couldn't help feeling bad for him. He was risking his own life for me. Ever since I was twelve, he'd sworn he'd volunteer to protect me.
"It appears we have a volunteer!" Athenadora gasped as Emmett made his way to the stage. He grabbed me up into a hug, and everyone applauded slowly.
"What's your name, sir?" Athenadora said excitedly.
"Emmett McCarty," he said proudly, "And I'm going to keep Alice safe. The child of a victor should never have to go through this. I'm going to make sure she gets home to her father unscathed, where she belongs."
The applause grew louder, and I smiled just a little to myself. Secretly, I was mad at him for condemning himself to death. That and he made me look incapable of caring for myself.
Maybe he was right.
Dad came to the front of the stage to "greet us", even though he knew us both too well already. He shook Emmett's hand, bowing his head a little in gratitude at his promise, then moved onto me. I stared at my feet, and he softly kissed my forehead.
"You're coming home," he murmured, and then walking away slowly. I watched him go in disbelief. I was about the size of a thirteen year old, with no experience with weaponry or any survival skills. I had no chance.
Then again, I had an alliance. A strong alliance at least four times my size. An alliance that had already sworn to put my life over his. Perhaps I had a chance.
Emmett and I were taken into separate rooms for our families to say their goodbyes.
Unsurprisingly, I sat in silence. My only family was my father, and there was no point in him saying goodbye to me. The only other person who would visit me was the one I'd be going into the arena with.
After at least fifteen minutes, Athenadora opened the door, followed by several peacekeepers.
"Time to go, sweetheart," she said, and the peacekeepers took an arm each and lead me towards the exit. Their grip was tight, and several tears of pain seeped from my eyes.
"Get off her!" Emmett bellowed, appearing from nowhere and dragging both peacekeepers away at once.
"Em, don't!" I sobbed uncontrollably, "Don't!"
Athenadora instantly began to dab at my face with a soft handkerchief. The material was soft, almost fluffy. Too fluffy for use as a handkerchief. But it soothed me, and I calmed down within a minute of two.
"Now, now, sweetheart," Athenadora whispered, almost cooing to me like she would to a child. Emmett grabbed me in a close hug, hushing me until I had completely pulled myself together.
We were lead to the train station, where a crowd had formed to wave us off. I stared at the ground, avoiding any eye contact in fear of breaking down into tears. This was my home, and I may never return. I tried desperately not to trip or make a fool of myself in the last few seconds I could spend in my home District. My hand clutched at Emmett's tightly for protection.
As soon as I entered the train, I let out all the tears again. Dad immediately came and wrapped his arms around me tightly.
"Alice, Alice," he said softly, "You're going to be alright. You're going to be safe."
He took me to my room, and together we sat on the bed to watch back the coverage of all the reapings. We sat close together, silent and just staring at the screen, our eyes fixated on the other tributes.
A beautiful, tall blonde girl named Rosalie was the volunteer from District 1, while some sinister looking twins from Two stepped forward. The girl looked about twelve, with her blonde hair tied back tightly and her skin unnaturally pale. The boy was taller, almost identical to her with the exception of the hair colour.
"You should watch out for those two. They look young, but very well trained," Dad murmured. A bronze haired boy and a blonde haired girl were selected from Four, and a girl with a terrified expression, only about fifteen, was picked from Five. The male from Six terrified me most. He looked at least ten times my size, even taller than Emmett. I heard Dad draw in a deep breath at the sight of him.
A brother and sister were coincidentally picked from District 11. Seth and Leah Clearwater reminded me of the past victor, Jacob Black. They shared a similar complexion, and the same dark eyes. I hadn't noticed at all. District Eight had been missed.
District Twelve also had a volunteer. It was unusual for one outlying district to have a volunteer, let alone two. A scrawny, thin girl with ivory skin and brown hair volunteered herself, saving the tiny twelve year old with long bronze hair. She reminded me a little of the boy from Four.
Caesar Flickermann, the ever-smiling presenter of the Hunger Games for as long as I could remember, appeared back on the screen.
"Now, you may have noticed that District Eight was absent just now, but I prefer to say we saved the best until last."
Footage was then shown of my reaping, the shock taking a few seconds to register in my mind. Dad leaning against the lighting pole for support. He looked away, sighing softly.
"For the first time in the history of the Games, the child of a victor was selected as a tribute. Although one of the least popular victors of all time due to his lack of fighting, Carlisle Cullen is expected to gain major support for this event, as he is forced to watch his only daughter fight, and potentially perish in just a few days time, in the same thing that almost killed him."
Dad hadn't looked back at the screen, in shame, worry, and hurt from the words he'd heard.
Dad's story began, footage of him shooting down the raging arrow to Jasper and Maria. They unsurprisingly didn't spare the footage of their brutal deaths.
"Just a week after his return to District Eight, he and his love married, and soon enough, District 8's most recent tribute was born. Little Mary Alice Brandon Cullen was born naturally small and has stayed like it all her life."
Pictures were shown of myself as a baby with my parents, in a magazine shoot for the Capitol. My Dad didn't want me to be shown publicly, but the Capitol were quite forceful.
"Alice was the reason for the only ever reason a Victor couldn't mentor his tributes, due to a severe illness in her childhood. Let's hope her health has improved since.
"At the tender age of ten, her mother was killed in the famous factory fires that claimed so many lives."
I reached and turned it off, lying down on the bed and trying to block the images and sounds of the burning factories and screams from my mind.
