The days went by too quickly, and they all made me feel like I was living a broken record. Everything was the same. Prim woke me up when I slept in, Peeta talked on and off to me, and Gale wouldn't promise me what I needed him to promise to me. Before anyone knew it, it was Reaping Day. I woke up for once on my own, without Prim's assistance. The sheets were tangled at my feet, and instead of being cold, I was roasting. It was the dream that I had, had.
Our name had been drawn, and Prim was chosen. I had been running towards her, screaming out her name. I had to get her off of that stage, I had to volunteer. But she was too far away. I didn't reach her in time.
I sighed in relief, knowing that it was just a dream, that Prim would be there at breakfast waiting for me. I stretched lazily, enjoying the feeling of my muscles expanding and then retracting. I looked outside the window that is right next to my bed. It looked like it was about noon. My legs forced myself upright, moving me from my bed, to my dresser. My arms grabbed the rough material of the nicest dress I own and shoved it over my body. My fingers moved through my brown hair, untangling the strands and then working them into a complex braid that wrapped all the way around my head into a tight woven bin. It felt good to work with my hair. Almost therapeutic, for what he'll would soon come.
Breakfast was as small as ever, only a small mound of cheese that we could spare, and a sip of milk from Prim's goat. Once all the food was eaten, we sat at the small table, waiting for the whistle to blow, calling us to the Square. When it screeched its high pitched sound, I looked at Prim, and she at me. A look of terror was plain in her eyes. "It will be fine Prim. We won't be called." I assured her.
We winded our way down the die roads to the Justice Building, which was looking as gray as ever. Everyone was ushered inside, the families with the most slips in the front. We have always been about 7 rows from the front. The odds are most definitely not in much of our favor, but I would never admit it to Prim.
Everyone took in a collective breath when Effie Trinket, President Snow, the Mayor, And the glass bowls took their places on stage.
"Hello everyone! Welcome to the 74th Reaping's! I know that all of you citizens in the Capitol are excited to see which family is chosen this year, but first we have a message from the Capitol."
A large screen that had been suspended from thick candle attached to the roof, over Effie Trinkets head, came to life. I imagined the cables snapping, dropping the enormous screen to her puffy pink wig, exposing all of her vital organs to all of the districts and Panem. A smile whispered on my lips, but a shot of a child, which looked very much like Prim being led to be shot by its own father, wiped away any ounce of humor that I had in my body.
The video faded out and was replaced by the seal of Panem, big bright silver, and never moving, holding firm, when all anyone wanted was for it to be torn down and replaced with a symbol of the districts. Next was the moment that everyone was dreading. Effie stepped up to the podium, opened her mouth, and sang out words that no one wanted to hear. "Happy Reaping Day! It's a lovely morning! Let the festivities begin, and may the odds be ever in your favor.
Peacekeepers brought out podium, on which large, glass bowls were placed. Everyone could see the thousands of slips, 42 of which had my mother's name written in elegant script. President Snow moved slowly from his chair, walking towards the podium to state the rules, as always. Effie moved to the left, resting her hand on the edge of the bowl. I sucked in all of my breath; she is so close to my mother's name. She could easily reach in, pull it out, and force her to kill Prim, or me.
President Snow finished his ramblings, and sat back down in his chair with a heavy sigh. Its funny how someone so old and weak, can be so powerful. "Now the time has come to select the name of the chosen tributes, which will be representing their district, and paying for the rebellion that took so many innocent lives, that should never have been lost. Their sacrifice is for the fallen, young and old." Effie stated.
Her hand circled above the bowl, her red fingertips glistening in the sunlight. Her sharp fingernails dipped into the bowl, digging around, shoving slips aside with her sharp nails. It felt like she was digging around in my chest, not the bowl. Her fingers caught hold of a single slip. She drew it slowly out of the bowl; the tension in the room was tangible. She unfolded the tiny scrap, holding it out in front of her. She pursed her lips, reading the name in her head, I'm sure, before she opened her mouth and said the name. It didn't catch my ears at first. All I could hear was ringing. I looked at the girl to my left. "What did she say?" I asked. She swallowed, leaned over, gave me a hug, and whispered the name loud and clear. I stood frozen.
Melissa Everdeen.
They had called my mother. I was going to die.
All I could think about was Prim. The look that crossed her face made me want to throw her out of the square and offer myself to be shot, so she wouldn't have to think about her death for even a second. But I couldn't do that. I was family, her sister. I would have to watch as one of us died. My mother wrapped both of her skinny arms around us, as we were shuffled on stage. They were little protection from the Peacekeepers, who untangled us and made us form a straight line. I looked out at all of the people from our district. People I have loved hated, misunderstood, or never even known. My eyes caught hold of Peeta standing by the stairs. His eyes were long, dark, and full of concern.
Effie went down the line with a microphone, and we all said our names. When she got to me, my eyes were still with Peeta. It felt right to stare into his eyes, to never look away. Her eyes fallowed my gaze. She gasped. "Tragic. Your love was doomed from the start." She said. I heard President Snow walk up to the bowl. His old voice boomed through the speakers overhead. "Now for the way the price must be paid." He was brief with his choice. His large calloused hand grasped the first slip that touched his rough skin. "The head of the household will take the youngest child and shoot him or her point blank range. No exceptions."
My heart dropped. Prim dead. I wouldn't be able to bear it. I reached out to Prim when she reached out to me. I held an iron grip on her. I would not let go.
Before I knew what was happening though, someone had covered my mouth and nose with a cloth. I was slipping away from her. I screamed and kicked, trying to get away from the large arms that were entrapping me, but I couldn't. It was Peeta who was holding me. His large hands flipped me around, and cradled me in his chest so I couldn't see Prim, or my mother anymore. I wrapped my arms around him, and buried my face into him, letting the tears slip.
There was nothing that I could do. My sister was going to die. I didn't hear anyone breathe. I knew that she had been given the gun. I could picture my mother, the silent tears running down her cheeks. I could see Prim, the scared look while she was being chained into place. I buried my head even further into his chest. The next sound was a bullet being shot, and my sister taking her last breath before my mother shot her.
