Chapter Two: District Eight Reaping

So love me Mother
And love me Father
And love my sister as well
-Of Monsters and Men, Sloom.

Enya O'Connell [10]

Enya hadn't expected her parents to still be in the house when she woke up, especially given that it was Reaping Day, but she's pleasantly surprised when they greet her as she pads barefoot into the kitchen. Neither of them look up from what they're doing, but they acknowledge her with quiet mumbles and that's enough, she guesses. It's more than she usually gets if she manages to catch them before they leave for work.

She fries an egg and makes some toast before settling down at the breakfast table, where her parents are still working. She doesn't understand how they always have so much to do; sure, her mother is the mayor, but they never seem to have any free time. They work whilst they're eating breakfast, then they disappear for the day, and they don't come back until after Enya's asleep because something always holds them up at the office.

Sometimes she doesn't see them for days on end, unless it's on the stupid banners that her mom has hung up around the district. Sometimes Enya wonders if it's because she misbehaves so often. She been getting better as of late, but sometimes the only way to see her mom is to have her tutor call her home because Enya is being a brat. It's not something that she enjoys doing.

She knows that her parents love her, but sometimes it's hard to remember that in the periods where they barely even acknowledge her presence.

Enya settles down at the table as soon as she's done preparing her meal. She sits beside her dad, opposite from her mom and gets halfway through her breakfast before she tries to attempt a conversation.

"Is Alanis—"

"Not now, Enya," her mom interrupts her almost immediately. She still doesn't look up. "We're working."

"But I was just asking if Alanis is—"

"I said not now," her mom finally looks up at this, gesturing to the notebooks and paper spread out across the table. "We're working." But then, eyes narrowed slightly. "What have you done to your chin?"

"I fell and scraped it," Enya answers. She pauses for a few seconds. "Last week."

Her mom reaches forward, hooking a finger under Enya's chin to look at the scab. "Oh, honey, why didn't you tell me?"

Enya shrugs. "You're always busy. I didn't think it was important."

Her mom tutts, opening her mouth to say something else just as the doorbell rings. Enya's scowls as her mom gets up and rushes to pull the door open, the sound of voices floating in from the foyer as she , Enya got the answer to the question she was trying to ask just a few minutes ago; Alanis was definitely coming over, and of course they could ditch their work for her.

She watches as her dad hurries to gather up all of the paper and rush out to greet her too, and Enya can't help the tide of jealousy that washes over her. Her grip tightens on her knife and fork and she tries to turn her attention back to her breakfast. But it's hard when all she can hear is her parents, Alanis and Alanis' boyfriend talking.

Eventually, she finishes her breakfast and gathers up the courage to enter the living room. No one even seems to notice her as she lingers in the doorway, too busy talking about adult stuff, and after a few minutes she just turns and leaves with tears burning her eyes. She takes the stairs two at a time and slams her bedroom door.

She doesn't know how long it is before there's a knock at her door, but she makes a point of not acknowledging it. Maybe if she starts ignoring them then they'll realise how much it hurts.

"Enya?" Her mom opens the door. There's a few beats of silence. "Are you crying?" Enya doesn't answer, turning away so that her back is to her mom. "What's the matter? You know that we have nothing to worry about today, right?"

"Who would you choose?" Enya blurts out. "If you had to? Me or Alanis?"

Her mom looks surprised at the question, stepping into the room. "I don't know, Enya," she says. "I couldn't choose."

"Would you choose me?" Enya asks again, turning to her mom as she raises her eyebrows. "If your name got picked today, would you choose me?"

"I'm not answering that," her mom says with a small sigh. "You know that I love you both equally."

"Then why do you only pay attention to Alanis?" Enya huffs, eyes watering again. "You didn't have time to talk to me this morning, but as soon as Alanis came over you dropped all of your work! You do it every time! The only time you ever talk to me is to tell me off!" She lets out a quiet sob, turning away to face the wall. "Is it because I'm so naughty you don't want to be around me anymore?"

"God—Enya, no," Her mom crosses the room, pulling her into a hug. "It's not that, I promise."

"Then what is it? Have I done something wrong?"

"No. You haven't," her mom sighs. "Things will get better after the elections, I promise. We won't be as busy."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Enya pulls away, sitting up and wiping her eyes. "Can we do something this afternoon? After the reaping."

Her mom nods. "Anything you want."

"Can we go for ice cream? Just me and you?"

Her mom nods, and Enya smiles. Of course, after this afternoon it'll more than likely go right back to the way it's been but maybe her mom will make a little bit more of an effort now that she knows. At least until the elections are over.

"You need to get ready," her mom says. "We have to be there early, remember?"

"I'm not going to forget," Enya rolls her eyes. "We do this every year."

Her mom laughs at that, but takes her leave, and Enya sets about getting ready. She pulls on the dress that she had picked out last night, and brushes out her hair. She still doesn't talk to Alanis when she finally heads downstairs, but it's not as if the sisters have ever gotten along well; the fifteen year age gap was partially to blame for that, but it's more that they don't see each other anymore.

Hell, Enya didn't meet her new nephew for a month after her was born; her parents would visit before they came home from work, and Alanis never invites Enya over by herself.

They leave as a family, though, Enya holding her mom's hand as they make their way to the square. The streets are desolate, people savouring what could be their last moments together as a family. It means that waiting in the square is boring, and Enya finds herself spending most of the time up on the stage, messing about with their new escort who introduces herself as Ysolda.

She's forced to join her sister when the reaping horn sounds and the crowds eventually begin to gather, but it's not as much fun as standing on the stage was. Alanis is grown up and boring, and all she does is talk about baby Rocco. Enya loves her nephew but she doesn't want to listen to her sister gush over him for another second. Alanis never listens to Enya talk about her books or new dolls, and so she doesn't see why she should be forced to listen to her sister's ramblings. Rocco's a baby. Babies are cute. Enya gets it.

The square is filled to the brim by the time that the reaping gets underway. Enya notices all of the Community Home kids behind the rope, gleeful that for one year they're safe. Even if her parents go back to ignoring her after today, Enya at least knows that she's luckier than they are. At least she has parents.

Alanis's elbow in Enya's side pulls her attention away from them.

"Stop staring," she whispers as their mom reads out the Treaty of Treason and the List of Victors. "What has Mom told you about judging people?"

Enya elbows her sister back, hard. "I wasn't judging them," she hisses. "I was just looking."

"Stop acting like a child."

"I am a child. What's your excuse?"

"Girls, stop," their father's voice is stern as he glances over at them. "You're twenty-five, Alanis. Act like it."

Alanis scowls as Enya smiles, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she watches Ysolda walk over to the girl's bowl. Around Enya, people hold their breath, watching carefully as Ysolda picks out a slip, unfolds it and frowns.

She looks over her shoulder, and then back to the slip. Beside Enya, Alanis stiffens.

"Um. Millicent O'Connell," Ysolda announces. Enya's mouth falls open. No! "Please come up to the stage..."

Her mom stands from her seat, making her way over to the microphone. Her face is stony, jaw clenched. Alanis takes Enya's hand after passing Rocco off to their father.

Standing on the stage isn't as fun, now, Enya thinks as she goes numb, staring out across the crowd.

There's a mixture of emotions; some people have their hands clamped over their mouths, others are laughing. Enya catches the eye of one man who holds up his middle finger. She'd always thought that her mom was a popular mayor, but now she's wondering whether or not that's true. There are way too many people who look happy about this. About her mom sending one of them off to be killed.

Enya looks up to Alanis. Maybe she doesn't hate her that much.

"Names and ages?" Ysolda asks, even though most people already know.

"Enya's ten and Alanis is twenty-five." Her mom's voice shakes, and Enya clenches her fists at her side. She's never seen her mom cry before, but as she glances upwards, swallowing thickly, she can see tears running down her mom's face.

"And who do you choose to represent District Eight in this year's Hunger Games?"

She feels as if she's about to throw up.

"Enya."

Beside her, Alanis shrieks, and there's outrage in the crowd as well. They had been sure it would be Alanis; older, more capable. Enya had thought that too, not through selfishness but because her sister has so much more potential. Enya is ten.

She doesn't know when she starts to cry, but there's warm tears dripping down her cheek as the reality starts to set in. Their father had appeared at some point, dragging Alanis away as her sister screams at their mom.

Enya turns to her, making eye contact with the woman who just condemned her to death.

"I thought you loved me, Mom?" Enya whimpers. "I thought things were supposed to get better?"

Her mom says nothing as she descends the steps, head hung low.

Do I look lonely?
I see the shadows on my face
People have told me I don't look the same
-Panic! At the Disco, Impossible Year.

Henry Ellis [46]

"Dad! Joseph won't get out of my room!"

The shrill cry jolts him out of sleep and he groans, running a hand over his face as he tries to calm himself down. His daughter isn't in danger, her brother is just being annoying; he doesn't need to be scared. He flops down against the pillows, once he's managed to lower his heart rate, and stares up at the ceiling as his kids continue to argue.

It has been the same deal every day this week. Why can't they just let him sleep in peace?

When the arguing gets too much, he forces himself out of bed. He's one step out of the door when his youngest begins to wail. Henry takes a deep breath, pushing past his two oldest in the corridor.

"Good going, Joe, you woke up Sarah!"

"It wasn't me! You're the one who was shouting!"

Henry's eyes nearly roll back into his head as they continue bickering, but he elects to ignore it as he enters Sarah's room and gathers his toddler into his arms. She stops crying almost as soon as his oldest two quieten down, and he rocks her in his arms until she falls back to sleep. It's not even light out, but thankfully it's not the middle of the night when he glances at the clock once Sarah's tucked back in.

Not that six in the morning is really any better.

He leaves her door ajar when he finally leaves and his oldest two are nowhere to be seen. His first stop is in Esther's room, flicking on her light as she squirms under her covers and pulls them over her face.

"Dad, I'm trying to get back to sleep!" She groans.

"You've woken everyone else up," he says. "Sarah managed to get back to sleep, but me? I'm up now, and as you're the one who woke me up, I think it's only fair that you get up, too."

Esther sits up, glaring at him. "You're so mean," and if looks could kill, Henry would definitely be six feet under right now. "It's six in the morning! I'm tired!"

"Yeah. I am, too. And Sarah," Henry points out. "But maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to shout the house down."

"It's Joe's fault!" She protests. "He was in my room! Why aren't you punishing him?!"

"He's not getting away scot free, Esther," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "Now hurry up and get out of bed. I want the bathroom cleaned, please."

Esther narrows her eyes. "Mom would never make me do this."

That hurts, but Henry doesn't give her the satisfaction of a reaction. "Yeah? Well Mom isn't here, so I'm afraid you're going to have to."

"I wish you died instead of her!" A look of regret washes over Esther's face as soon as she says the words, but Henry doesn't give her a chance to say anything else before he steps out of the room and shuts the door behind him.

That stings, and he makes his way back to his bedroom, leaning against the door once her shuts it. He takes a deep breath, pinches the bridge of his nose and looks towards the picture of his late wife on his night stand. It's hard to keep himself calm as Esther's remark swirls around in his head.

She's grieving, he reminds himself. We all are. She doesn't mean it.

She doesn't mean it and he knows that she doesn't. It was a slip of the tongue; a mistake. Esther's fourteen, of course she doesn't mean it, she was just frustrated. Henry lets out a sigh. Nobody every told him that being a single father would be this hard. He honestly doesn't know how his wife survived, wrestling the kids day in and day out without complaint whilst he was off working.

He wishes that he'd thanked her more.

"Dad, I'm so sorry!" Esther's voice is muffled by the door as the handle jiggles. "I didn't mean it."

"Bathroom," is all he can manage to say without bursting into tears. "Now."

"Okay." She doesn't argue further, and Henry lets out a sigh of relief as her footsteps recede.

When he's finally gathered himself again, he leaves. Joe takes his early morning chores a lot better than Esther does. Henry's guess is that he heard everything, but Joe doesn't say anything as he's tasked with helping his sister clean. Henry wants to ask him just what he was doing this morning to get his sister so irate, but he decides that he really doesn't want to know.

He'll sort everything out after the reaping, he guesses. The pair of them are definitely going to be grounded, that's for sure.

Henry sets about making breakfast, calling the kids to eat before he wakes Sarah up. His youngest daughter doesn't seem to want to stay awake, leaning heavily into Henry as he attempts to feed her a spoonful of porridge. Her copper curls and blue eyes remind him so much of his wife as he stares down at her, and it takes all of his might to not to break down.

He won't in front of the kids.

Despite the early start, they somehow end up in a rush as the morning speeds on. Henry's father and older brother appear just before the reaping horn sounds, and there's hugs and everything as the kids rush to answer the door. Henry takes the slight reprieve to get himself ready, managing to get dressed before Joe bursts into the bedroom and demand that they leave before they're late.

Henry supposes that running his hands through his hair will have to do.

His older brother, Poplin, sits Sarah on his lap as he pushes along his wheelchair, and Joe talks his grandfather's ear off. Henry and Esther hang back, walking in silence. He knows that she wants to say something, but he doesn't prompt her. Wilhelmina always made a point of having the kids apologise themselves unprompted after an argument. Sometimes it would result in a few days of awkward silence at meal times, but eventually things sorted themselves out and the apologies were genuine.

"I didn't mean it," she says eventually as they near the square. He looks down at her to see her eyes welling up with tears. "I really didn't, Dad."

"I know, honey."

"I don't know why I said it. I was just... I was angry... but that's not really an excuse is it? I'm sorry I hurt you, Dad." She looks up at him. "Do you... do you think Mom would be mad at me?"

He shrugs. "I don't think she'd appreciate what you said, but I don't think that she'd blame you," Henry rests a hand on her shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. "I think she'd be proud that you're taking responsibility for what you said."

Esther smiles, wiping at her cheeks. "I hope so."

"You're still grounded, though," he says with a slight smile. "You're not getting out of it that easy."

"But—"

"Nope. I've forgiven you for your words, but you still woke everybody up at six in the morning," he says, and she pouts a little. "You can see your friends at school. You don't need to hang out with them this afternoon."

"I don't take the part back about you being mean," she jokes. "That stays true."

"Oh, I'm sure that I'm the worst dad in the district," He teases. "God forbid I discipline my own daughter."

The others are waiting for them when they finally reach the square. Poplin hands Sarah off to Esther, and Henry makes her promise to wait for him afterwards. He doesn't feel good leaving the pair of them alone behind the rope, but with his, Poplin's and their father's names in the bowl, Henry has no one to leave them with.

"Don't let go of her," he instructs. "Even if she wants to be put down, you hold her. Okay?"

"Yes. Keep a hold of her... I get it, Dad. We'll be fine."

He leaves them with a sinking feeling in his stomach, unable to shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. He tries to mask his concern as they sign in, Joe practically jumping up and down beside him like the little ball of energy that he is. Thankfully, Poplin is able to keep him entertained by playing some clapping game as they wait.

Henry turns to his father. "Thanks for this morning, Dad. I'd be here in my pyjamas if not for you."

His elderly father waves a hand. "Don't be silly," he says. "Looking after those kids is never a problem."

Henry smiles, pulling his father into an awkward side hug as the square is packed to the brim with citizens. He doesn't know what he'd have done after Wilhelmina's death if it wasn't for his father and brother. They'd gone above and beyond for them, and he doesn't know how he's going to pay them back.

He tries to reign in his thoughts as the reaping starts, Mayor O'Connell taking to the stage first. Henry swears that he can recite the Treaty of Treason form memory by now, after hearing it for the past forty-six years. Their escort, Ysolda, isn't someone that he's seen before, but she seems nice enough. She's a lot younger, but not as ditzy. Sometimes watching the other escorts that 'grace' the stage every year is nothing short of embarrassing.

Henry doesn't know what they learn in the schools in the Capitol, but it doesn't seem like it's much.

The mayor's name being read out isn't something that he expected, but it snaps him back to reality as he watches her two girls climb the stage. He's never liked Mayor O'Connell much, doesn't really think that she's done much for the district, but he still doesn't approve of those around him who seem to find it funny that the woman is being forced to choose between one of her children to send into a death match.

He can't say that he expected her picking the youngest girl, either, and his heart aches for her as she turns to her mother with betrayal written all over her face. It's not a decision that Henry can say makes much sense, but he supposes that there must be a reason. Even so, the girl more than likely isn't getting out of the bloodbath alive.

Ysolda crosses over the stage to the male's bowl. He tenses, and he knows that the chance of his name being on that slip is minuscule but he still can't bare the thought that it just might be.

"Aaron Ellis."

And it's not his name, but it is his father's.

Henry feels like he's been punched in the gut as the name echoes out. He doesn't know when his legs start moving, but he's pushing Poplin towards the stage as their father ambles in front of them when his head stops spinning.

He's accepted it before he gets to the stairs. He's going into the Games. There's no way Poplin can go in, not with his legs. The peacekeepers don't even bother helping to lift his brother's chair up to the stage, instead leaving him at the bottom of the stairs, they're so certain of the choice.

His father recites his and Poplin's ages, and the pair of them make eye contact before he shakily states that he chooses Henry for the Games.

"It's okay, Dad," he says as the pair of them embrace before the peacekeepers pull him away. "I don't blame you."

He needs to say it now, before the chaos that will be the goodbyes. "I don't blame you," he repeats. "I don't."

He stares forward.

Henry knows that he doesn't really have a chance. But, if he doesn't make it out of the Games alive, at least he can take comfort in knowing that he'll be with Wilhelmina again.

He just hopes that his kids will be alright.

Another 2AM update? I guess it's clear when I'm at my most productive. It probably also doesn't help that I have a big deadline coming up this Friday that I'm nowhere near close to finishing. Writing fanfiction seems to be how I procrastinate writing essays.

Please review; I'd love to know what you think about these characters! And, of course, if you haven't already, I'd love it if you could shoot a tribute or two my way!

The next chapter will be the District Three reaping with Joule and Ellis. I'm not sure when this will be uploaded since I have a pretty busy week with the aforementioned deadline on Friday, my birthday on Monday, and a few other deadlines at the end of next week, but I'm hoping that I'll be able to write a few hundred words here and there and have it out sooner than later. Fingers crossed!

Thank you to TakeTheCrown for Enya and Acaronar for Henry!

-Myths and me