Chapter 4

After Katniss left, I went straight to my room and cried. I didn't even bother to take my Reaping clothes off and change into something more usual, and I really hated my clothes. They were itchy, suffocating… and they reminded me of Katniss. I remember Katniss's first Reaping, and she had worn this exact outfit. It was haunting.

I pulled my blankets over my head, wanting to shut the world out. I wanted to find a way over the fence, I wanted to save Katniss. I wanted to… I don't know, grow wings or something and stop the train. I would save Katniss, and we'd escape the Capitol. They don't deserve to have any right to say what happens to my sister's life. They don't have the right to take anyone's life. Whoever came up with the Hunger Games was probably sick in the head. Whoever thinks it's entertaining to watch children fight to the death is seriously messed up. They also didn't have to sacrifice their child. The creators only said, poor girl, stabbed by a spear, or poor boy, he was only twelve. They didn't know the extent.

I wanted to go back in time and stop them. I wanted to know who I could hold accountable for my sister's probable death. I wanted names. I wanted to know where they lived.

I started sobbing and hitting the mattress, destroying one of the precious springs left in it. May the Odds be Ever in your Favor. I thought bitterly. Well, the odds were in Katniss's favor. It was my stupid fault. I could've done something. I could've said I was still eleven, and I could've pulled it off. I look really young. I curled up in a ball and just kept crying. At this point, I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to mourn, because there was still hope, but I didn't dare let my hopes get too high. I didn't want to think about all the times Katniss was there for me when nobody was, but I didn't want to already picture her home. I was stuck in limbo, where the only thing to do was to cry.

I heard my door creak open, and I heard my mother's soft footsteps. Without looking, I could tell Mom sat down at the edge of the bed. I clutched the covers over my head, ready to pull if Mom tried to take the blanket off my head. She didn't and I slightly released my death grip.

I wonder if Katniss is going to be okay. I thought, my tears fading away.

"She's going to be okay." Mom said, seeming to read my mind. "She's a fighter. You are too."

I took the blanket off my head, and looked at Mom in surprise. I wasn't a fighter, that was Katniss. The most I could do was stay home alone.

"Me? A fighter?" I asked in disbelief. I couldn't picture it. She was saying that I could be like Katniss.

"Yes, you. When your name was called, you didn't run away, you didn't cry, you just started walking up to the stage. And when Katniss volunteered, you wanted to save her. That's not your fight, Prim. You'll get your chance, but you have to wait until your older. Katniss will be fine. Trust me." Mom said, smiling. I could tell she was only slightly worried.

I really needed time to take that in. I needed time to try to comprehend it. I had always pictured myself as the one that needed protection 24/7. I always thought I was the weak one. I tried to picture myself on the front lines of a battlefield without much success. With my two braids that resembled pigtails, my wide eyes, and lack of height, I didn't exactly look intimidating. I looked more like a light snack. Suddenly, I realized why Katniss volunteered for me. I knew she loved me, and couldn't stand to watch me die. I knew that I wouldn't last a day in the Hunger Games, and everyone else knew it too. They just didn't think anyone would volunteer.

I couldn't even hold my own in the forest right outside the district that Katniss knew like the back of her hand. I always pictured myself as a nuisance when I went in the woods. I was something unwanted. Once, when Dad was still alive, I went in the woods with him and Katniss. While he and Katniss got under the fence quickly, pieces of fence snagged on my clothing. Thank God it wasn't running. Dad had to rescue me, and he told Katniss to go ahead and start hunting. I tried holding a bow like Katniss's, but it was heavy and I almost dropped it on my foot right off the bat. I was also unsuccessful with making traps. Very unsuccessful. I caught a leaf. I also couldn't walk quietly to save my life. I probably scared off any game within ten miles. I knew from Katniss's body language that she was ready to kill me. Dad took me back to the fence, and I shimmied under successfully this time. I went home and I never went back to the woods. Since then, I helped out in the apothecary, and never gave that day a second thought. I was only six, after all.

Based on that day, Mom said the exact opposite of reality.

Thinking about what Mom said about me not running and crying at the Reaping, I was strong. I was stronger than I was six years ago. I still wouldn't stand a chance in the Games, but I was taking baby steps. I got out of bed and walked over to my door. I cautiously pushed it open. I wasn't ready to face the world, but I might as well start with the only other person that understands my pain. Mom.

"Are you feeling better?" She asked, seeing my still-red eyes and face. Tears had made clear streaks down my dirty face, and I was still sniffling. I merely nodded and sat down next to her. All I could do was stare. I felt like if I spoke, my voice would break. Across the table from me was the chair Katniss sat in when we had breakfast or dinner. You know, if we had breakfast or dinner. I had seen her sit in that chair so many times, in so many moods, I'd never be able to count them all. I looked at Mom and wanted to cry again. But I couldn't and I wouldn't. Not after Mom called me strong.

I dared myself to think a horrible thought, and prepare myself for the worst.

If Katniss dies, I have to be stronger than ever. I thought, hating the taste it left in my mouth, but I thought it anyway.

I have to provide for Mom, even if she zones out again. I could learn to do something productive besides making cheese and milking Lady, my goat.

I was in the middle of thinking how successful I would be at hunting without a teacher when Buttercup came in. He walked right over to me and purred and rubbed my leg. I pet him, and he jumped onto my lap. How he could ever be mean to Katniss, I'll never know. He was so caring and kind, always there when I needed him. I really needed someone to comfort me right now.

Just from thinking about it, I knew what I needed to do. I needed to prepare for Katniss's death. I had to try to hunt, even if I failed.

I put Buttercup on the ground and he mewed in protest.

"I'll be back soon." I said to Mom, who merely nodded. She was already zoning out. She just stared into space, at a blank wall. Maybe she had convinced herself that Katniss didn't have a fighting chance, and had given up. I left the house, leaving the door open. Mom seemed to snap out of it and walked to close the door.

"Where are you going Prim?!" Mom called, sounding concerned. I couldn't blame her. She had already lost one child today, and she didn't want me out of her sight.

"Nowhere important." I called back, and turned towards town. Mom knew that town was nothing to get excited about. The train was long gone, and so was everyone there before. They were home celebrating. I also wanted to be alone. I heard the door shut with a slam and turned around to run to the fence. I was going hunting.