Song Suggestion: Lykke Li—"No Rest for the Wicked"

Thank You: Obscure-Reference-Girl, 3vlee, PainAndPanicReportingForDuty, ShootingStar96, Coco, Guest, Sandraanataliaa, Martianmojo, Flowers Can Have Thorns, jkteen22, erstott2012, Guest, and Guest.

A/N: This chapter has two parts. I will try to get out the second part either tonight or tomorrow. So stay tuned!

The Reaping Part 1

The train rattled beneath her. The trees whooshed by the window at break-neck speed, a blur of green and brown. Random streaks of sunlight struck the inside of the compartment containing her.

Prim reached up to scratch her nose, but was stopped by the manacles chaining her to the bed. She had forgotten about them in her sleepy haze.

At least she wasn't in the cell anymore. It was the only good thing she could find about her situation. After the confrontation with Snow, she was sent back to her white cell and then herded out to the train under the cover of night. The capitol citizens hadn't been informed of her departure. She didn't see any people besides the guards from the cell to the train, though that was from the blindfold as well. When they got to the train compartment, they chained her to the bed.

It took quite a bit of time for the train to start, but Prim hadn't noticed because for the first time in several days she got a decent amount of sleep.

Once she woke up, Prim waited, trying to keep her mind from wandering. She practiced meditation, freeing her mind from worry.

But it didn't work. Everything reminded her of what was too painful to remember. A pink vase on a side table reminded her of Coral's room. The smell of pine streaming in from outside reminded her of Cato's. It was a never-ending movie playing behind her eyes.

Prim rolled her head into the pillow and wept.

She loved them. She loved them. She loved them.

And it was a cruel twist of fate that she lost them.

A Short Time Later

Several hours into the train ride, a woman with blue hair and bright pink clothes came in tugging behind her a large object on a small table with wheels. Her dress was impeccable, and she wore higher heels than Prim had ever attempted. She labored for a moment before yanking it past the doorframe and pushing it to the corner. It gave a small squeak when it locked into positon.

The woman reached up and pushed a button. It beeped and the screen on the television turned to the typical blue screen that served as the warning that a Capitol announcement was about to play.

The woman turned around, and Prim got to get a good look at her. Once she did, she bit her tongue.

"Hello," the woman said, "My name is Effie Trinket." She stuck out her hand to shake but retracted it awkwardly and brushed her hair behind her ears once she realized Prim was chained.

"I know who you are," Prim answered. She raised herself onto her elbows.

How could she forget? It was from her lips that Prim's nightmare sprung. Out of every voice in the world, she could not forget hers.

"You do?" Effie seemed extremely happy about this, "Well I must admit that I know you as well. You're Primrose Everdeen." Effie Trinket sat in the plush leather chair next to the bed, sinking an inch into the cushions. Once sitting, Effie smoothed her skirt and crossed her legs.

"I know, I know, Cato's fiancée." Prim rolled her eyes. She was tired of hearing about it, especially since it was a painful subject.

Effie's eyebrow peaked. "I was going to say Katniss Everdeen's sister. You forget that she was my charge, and she was such a dear."

This time Prim's eyebrow peaked. Katniss was many things, but none of those were a "dear".

"She was something else, wasn't she?" Prim answered after a moment. As much as Prim wanted to hate her, she couldn't. In some ways, Prim pitied her. What a horrible job she had. Year after year getting to know and losing someone you took responsibility over, even if for a brief amount of time. It must have taken a toll.

Indeed, she saw Effie's eyes water a little bit.

"Yes, she was... special. She—"

Effie didn't finish. The television in the corner flickered to life. The scene showed District 1. Children in nondescript uniforms stood in a line. Usually, this event was happy in this district—for what did they have to worry about; others would take their place- but today there was fear in the children's eyes.

The reaping had begun.

Caesar Flickerman came on screen, his hair dyed to resemble flames, varying shades of red and orange, hair shooting up to the sky. He smiled large.

"Welcome to the 80th Hunger Games. Let the fun begin."

One Minute Later

"Ruby Rose."

A shivering girl about 16 years old was the first person to be called.

She walked onto the stage. Colorful tattoos ran down both arms, across her neck, and on her face. A large rose took up her left cheek. Her eyes blinked as if unable to adjust to what just happened. Her gaze went to the rows of previous victors, eyes pleading. They were the only people who could save her, per edict. But nobody did. The victors sat in their chairs off to the side, arms crossed. A few had tears on their face, but not many. Most had faces made of stone, staring at anywhere but the stage. Nobody wanted to put themselves back into the arena. To the girl's credit, she did not cry, though her face was a shade of white, resembling death already.

Several uncomfortable minutes ticked by before the escort cleared his throat and called the male tribute.

"Moony Graceland."

A freckled-faced kid who looked no more than ten was found by the cameras.

"No, no, no. It must be wrong," he said in horror.

Before the boy was even pulled to the stage, a voice shouted from the victor's seats.

"I volunteer."

The camera panned around.

Jacen Hartline stood from his seat, and Prim gasped. An empty, dark socket was in place of an eye. And he had ferocious scars all over his face. He was no longer handsome, his outside matching his insides, and he no longer smiled.

He scowled as he marched to the stage. When he ascended, he turned to the crowd.

"I'm doing this for the blood. Though I'm looking forward to the screams." He said.

The crowd did not respond, and Ruby Rose shivered noticeably. It was clear that he did not volunteer out of empathy, but for the love of the death and torture. The district stared up at the stage, as if suddenly realizing the horror of what the games mean, as if they had forgotten over the years.

Jace tipped his head back and laughed. No one else joined him. Jace was unstable before the Pit. Now every facade had dropped.

Indeed, he was a monster.

Twenty Minutes Later

District 2 was next. It was dramatic irony without the book. The unsuspecting children trembled in the crowd, but they had nothing to fear. Prim knew what was about to happen, who was to be called. Her stomach wrapped into knots. Effie looked at her from the corner of her eyes as Prim tried to hold back her sniffles. Prim was glad Effie was there, or there would have been nothing to hold her together through the horror.

The world was a daze until the first name was called.

"Katla Farrow."

The cameras panned to Katla, as if they already knew who to find. She stood with her arms crossed and mouth clenched. Her strong jaw compressed into odd bulges. Anger radiated off her. She knew this was coming. Somehow, someway, she had known. It was clear by her stoic expression. She began to walk towards the stage with thundering steps.

"No," A male voice cried, "No! Fucking No!"

Hannibal struggled to get through the bodies. The children parted for him, not wanting to get in the way. For good reason. He used his appendages as weapons, pushing, shoving, frantically trying to get to the front. As he neared the stage, two peacekeepers blocked his way.

"Return to your position in the crowd," they warned. But he didn't listened. He bellowed and lunged at them, knocking one to the ground. One of the guards pulled out a gun and pointed at him.

"You're not going to take her!" He screamed before he was hit with a stun gun. Hannibal was lucky it wasn't live ammo. He dropped like a stone, slamming against the dirt ground. He twitched and lurched before they got his hands tied behind his back. He awoke only seconds later. Tears were running down his face and blood down his lips from where he most likely bit his tongue. But he didn't seem to care. He made garbled sounds and still tried again to struggle away, though he was effectively restrained by several guards.

By this point, Katla was already on the stage. She stared off at the sky, not glancing at Hannibal. Her courage astounded Prim.

The escort cleared his throat.

"Now that we have our tribute, let's pick the—"

"Get off that stage, Katla!" A female voice yelled from the crowd.

The cameras turned the attention to the Victors. They sat in multiple rows of chairs off to the side. Cato and Theodora sat next to each other. Cato looked as if he might jump from the seat.

Theodora was standing. It struck Prim what she was trying to do.

"Thea, sit. Back. down," Cato said, his voice tight. Prim had never heard him so angry. He attempted to grab her arm, but she wrenched away and walked towards the still twitching Hannibal.

"Nope, and you know it's for the best, Cato. She wouldn't survive the grooming, let alone the games."

"But Cassius—"

"If Cassius has a problem with it, then he should have chosen a weakling. If he tries to stop me, then he doesn't deserve me."

When Theodora reached Hannibal, she leaned over and cupped his face in her hands. Prim could see Hannibal's mouth moving as if attempting to speak, but no sound came out. With her two thumbs she wiped the tears under his eyes and then kissed him on the forehead.

"Rest easy, little brother. Your girl will be saved."

She rose up to face the crowd.

Cato jumped to his feet as if to stop her.

"Don't you dare, Theo—"

"I volunteer as tribute," she said without hesitation.