With thanks to AbbyCoraby123 and akuhilangditelanbumi for your reviews of the last chapters.
The screams that followed Emma inspired her speed; her long hair flowed behind her as she ran heavily to the stage. Howls of pain and screams of horror were her muse, and she spun through the air like it was the sea that rushed in the distance behind her.
Emma was on the stage before anybody could catch her. Her face was flushed, jubilant; she had so much adrenaline rushing through her system and so much blood rushing through her ears that she could barely hear anything.
Then she looked past the crowd to see her father, muted from her hearing, his mouth wide open in a painful, guttural scream, barely audible to her. He charged through the crowd, still screaming, his mouth forming a name Emma did not use anymore.
Odyssea was the name her mother had given her. Ermintrude was the name her father had given her. She could not use the name bequeathed by the dead, and she could not properly use the name given by the man that had decided her marriage without so much as telling her.
He screamed each name in turn as Peacekeepers pulled him back. The Capitolian continued to talk and smile to the camera even as her father screamed and roared, struggling against the Peacekeepers furiously.
Emma did not think he would be so angry, so upset. Shocked, not angry. Surprised, not upset.
He had seen so many children made tools of war, but he could not take his little girl being one of them.
The effects of adrenaline were starting to wear off, and Emma could hear the yells of the crowd. The fury of the tributes to be, taken of their glory by a child; the horror of the crowd at a young girl throwing herself into the arena; her father, howling like a wounded animal at his own little girl, his own daughter, the child of his late wife, running into the fire.
She felt a horrible tug in her gut. This isn't how she intended this to happen. She just wanted to escape her wedding. She just wanted the riches of a Victor.
Around her was pain and fear, and she had caused it. She had to swallow hard against the bile rising in her throat.
The Capitolian went to the bowl of names. The male tributes-to-be readied themselves, and for the first time she realised her brother was amongst them, eyes wide, teeth gritted.
Her brother was about to try and volunteer.
No. No, no, I don't want this. I don't want this.
Her father appeared to have come to the same conclusion; as even as he was dragged back in the crowd by Peacekeepers he resurged forward with the strength of one about to lose his children to a fight only one could possibly win.
The Peacekeepers appeared to have lost their patience, even on the head of the Training Center; they didn't appreciate people moving against them.
He was dragged to the ground by one, placed on his knees by another. The third Peacekeeper made sure they were out of sight of cameras.
The fourth took out his gun and shot him in the head.
Emma screamed and fell to her knees as the gunshot sounded; the Capitolian read out the name of the male tribute, and eight surged forward to volunteer.
Emma is throwing up on the ground when her brother runs to the stage. She does not want him to protect her, she does not want him to die, her father just died, what did she do, oh god, what did she do?
Andreas was seconds from the stage when a short man with cropped hair and blue eyes kicked out and broke his kneecap.
Andreas fell screaming to the ground just inches from the stage as Ronan climbed the stairs.
He came to the top, reported his name to the Capitolian, then crouched to speak to Emma. She was on her knees, vomit pooled under her, tears in her eyes.
"Hey," he said, voice surprisingly careful, but with an underlyingly stern element. "No use losing them all, right?"
He put a hand out and Emma did not take it. Ronan sighed and grabbed her upper arm, pulling her to her feet.
The cameras were flashing and Emma did not know what had happened. She did this to escape her father and now he was dead. The last moment she had had with him, she was planning to run away.
Andreas screamed on the floor. He had lost his future, his father, his little sister.
Emma knew how he felt.
Blood pooled on the floor of the Reaping pens.
I'm not sure about this chapter, I must admit- if you see anything you do and don't like about it, please do tell me. I wanted to go out on a limb with taking up the conflict a little, as this needed to happen for the plot, but I'm not sure if it works.
As ever, thank you for reading this far.