District 10 Reapings
Margaret Cartmill, Victor of the 58th Hunger Games
Margaret was terrified. There was no other word to describe it. She was only in her thirties. She was too young to die! Margaret wasn't particularly scared of leaving behind her husband to care for their five children by himself. It wasn't that she was scared of giving the Capitol the satisfaction of watching her die. She was just scared of the end of her existence. Selfish, if anything, but Margaret couldn't help it. She wasn't sure what that entailed. Would Margaret simply stop breathing and crumple to dust? Would she go somewhere else? If so, where?
The woman who was District 10's escort approached the women's reaping bowl. It held only one name. Margaret's name. Ever since the quell announcement, she had been preparing herself for this moment. She'd gone out of her way to say goodbye to her friends and loved ones, and she'd thought that she was ready to die. But, as the escort snatched the paper and zipped back to the microphone, horror surged through her. Some ancient desire to survive coursed through her body. If two peacekeepers weren't standing on either side of her, Margaret might have fled. But where would she go then? There was nowhere safe from the Capitol. Nowhere in District 10 or anywhere else in the nation. She was right where they wanted her.
"Ms. Margaret Cartmill," the escort prompted. She turned around and beckoned Margaret forth. She swallowed hard and morosely took her place.
Alexander Westlake, Victor of the 69th Hunger Games
Alexander anxiously bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. District 10's escort grabbed the microphone and immediately began congratulating Margaret. The woman put on a smile and did a little fake laugh. "That's the spirit of the games!" the escort cried before zooming toward the men's reaping bowl. Alexander felt as if a massive weight had been lifted off of him. He was glad the escort hadn't dragged out the reaping any longer. He remembered one year that the escort had gotten carried away talking about her cats and extended the length of the reaping by nearly an hour.
"Mr. Alexander Westlake," the escort called. Alexander smiled and took his place at Margaret's side. Such a shame they were going to die together. She was like a mother to him. Ever since they had won their games, they had grown into such a close-knit relationship. They were the only people in District 10 history that had entered the arena and lived to tell the tale, and there was a sort of camaraderie that came from that.
The quell was intended to make the districts feel weak and disconnected. But maybe there were some bonds that couldn't be broken. And Alexander was determined to prove that if it was the last thing he ever did.
A/N: Thank you for sticking with this little story despite the huge gaps between updates. Please stay tuned for District 11.