A girl kneels over a pile of sticks and stone, her long braided brown hair cascades down her back and she strikes stick against stick. She grunts in frustration as the fire won't build and she strikes faster. A boy lays beside her bandaged and bruised but otherwise sleeping quiet soundly. The sky is darkening as she struggles to start the fire, it will spark and then go out.
There's a rustle in the bushes that the girl doesn't take note of at first since she's too focused on trying to light the fire. Her fingers shake with the cold and she wipes her runny nose on the sleeve of her jacket. There's another rustle, this time louder. The boy rolls over in his sleep and I can see...it's Peeta. He opens his eyes and smiles at the girl stroking her cheek, "Are you sure you should be doing that now?"
The girl nods in response and Peeta sighs, "All I'm saying is you're making an awful lot of noise. Someone could come an-"
But he never gets his sentence out, for he is snatched into the bushes. He yells for the girl's name but I cannot hear what he says and his words are choked off with a gurgle.
The girl stands up abandoning the firewood, "Peeta!"
There is another rustling from the bushes and the girl turns so her face is in view, it's Katniss!
'Katniss! Run! Get out of there!' But I cannot say anything. I am just a bystander.
Katniss scrambles for her boy and arrow; trying to uncover it from the mess of leaves and twigs. Bounding footsteps come closer and closer.
Katniss!
She looks up as if she can hear me, "Prim?" She asks looking around. She's staring straight at me and she takes a step forward reaching her hand out. Then she opens her mouth and coughs once. Out of her mouth, a red liquid pours out like a rushing waterfall and she coughs again. She looks down and right in her chest, directly in her heart, rests a wooden spear. She looks up with bloody tears flowing from her eyes.
"Prim," She whispers once more before falling to the ground. Lifeless. Gone. Dead.
A scream erupts from me as if I can feel her pain too
I wake up screaming and screaming and expecting warm arms to comfort me. I stop the screaming and clutch my chest, breathing hard. I peer around the room and find my mother's bed empty. She's most likely preparing the bread that the baker gives us every week for breakfast this morning or something else to prepare for the Reaping. I try to comfort myself, remind myself it was just a dream.
But it wasn't a dream.
Katniss is gone.
I swing my legs off the bed and onto the cold wooden floor. Hopping on my tippy-toes, I go into our small kitchen where sure enough my mother sits cutting up slices of fresh bread. The delicious smell of the fruit and nut loaf wafted from the kitchen and carried through out the house.
My mother looked up and smiled as warmly as she could muster at me, "Have a seat Primrose."
The chair squeaks loudly across the floor as I pull it out to sit. Mother sets down a small plate and a slice of the bread, on the bread she puts a slice of my goat's cheese.
"I'll go pick out your clothes, we want to look out best for the Reaping don't we?" And with that she turns and walks out the kitchen.
Then, I remember that I'm doomed to be in the Games today. My heart drops and the bread doesn't look as appetizing anymore. Though I still nibble on it, in hopes it would calm my nerves. Tears threaten to spill over but I force them back. Why me? Why did this have to be the Capitol's plan for the Third Quarter Quell? I understood now why Katniss and Gale had spoke about the Capitol being unfair and cruel.
I am halfway done with my slice of bread when my mother comes back, "Your clothes are ready Prim."
I nod once and stand up from my chair, leaving the remainder of goat cheese and bread on the table. I enter my bedroom again and see mother has laid my Reaping outfit on Katniss's bed. For some reason this makes a hard lump in my throat but I swallow it. There is a plain white blouse, no buttons or fancy things included, not even pockets. Along with that lays a royal blue skirt with an old black braided belt to hold it up and grey flat shoes.
I admire myself in the mirror, thinking I look quite presentable when mother comes behind me, with a small smile on her face however, through her eyes I can see the pain she hides. Her last child is going into the Hunger Games with 23 other children. A fight to the death in which she might not return from.
"Tuck in that tail little duck," She says tucking in the back of my shirt and I stiffen. That was Katniss and I's thing and it didn't feel right coming from her. She must have noticed my discomfort because she immediately stops and lets me do the rest.
"I have a gift for you little Prim," She pulls out a small mockingjay pin, the same pin I gave Katniss exactly and year ago, "I thought you might like it." She pins it onto my shirt and smooths the sleeves of my blouse. I stare at the pin in the mirror, it's dirty and scratched but I still love it nonetheless. It's almost as if I have a piece of Katniss with me.
"I can do your hair if you like," My mother says. I only nod. This is the most interaction we've had lately. She gets to work braiding my hair in a circular pattern around my head while the whole time I'm admiring the mockingjay pin. Silently, I kiss my three fingers and place them over my heart.
Mother's braiding finally stops and looks at me in the mirror. A phantom of a smile shows on her lips, and she places her hands my shoulders, rubbing them up and down, "Katniss and your father would be proud."
It's the first time I've heard speak of Katniss or Dad since they died and it catches me off guard at first.
"I miss them." I say quietly. Mom smiles sadly.
"Me too Prim. Me too."
About an hour or so later I have already signed in and I take my place with the other thirteen year olds. I don't see why we have to go through this process if we already know whose being Reaped but oh well. Effie Trinket comes onto the stage with her big fake Capital smile and introduces the film about the Dark Ages and why we have the Hunger Games. I take note that there are no balls of names this year, but Effie holds two envelopes instead. After the film is done Effie turns to us all and claps though no one joins in.
"And now to announce our wonderful tributes for our very special Third Quarter Quell." Effie lifts the flap on one of the envelope and reads the name clearly off the small paper for everyone to hear.
"Primrose Everdeen."
It's as if I've been thrown in one of my recurring nightmares. It's all the same, the Reaping, no Katniss, the stares. My heart constricts in my chest, my hands getting clammy, my feet not daring to move. It's all the same. Someone behind me pushes me out of the crowd and I'm alienated. Vulnerable. Everyone is watching me. My hands ball up into fists, I look down at my shoes and begin my walk. I hear people murmur as I walk past.
"She's finally getting hers, no big bad Girl On Fire to volunteer."
"She won' last day one. She's nothin' like 'er sister. Now Katniss, Katniss was a real surviver."
"It's a shame."
"I bet tis little one is the first one killed in the Bloodbath."
The Games haven't even started and people are already counting me as good as dead. When I reach the stage Effie Trinket smiles at me and then goes back to her second envelope.
"Griffin Mellark!"
Griffin Mellark? I look into the the crowd texpecting to see a young boy my age or so, but I'm sorely mistaken. He looks as if he hasn't been a boy for a very long time, his eyes hard set and glaring as he makes his way to the stage. There's a faint stubble, or could it be dirt, under his chin. His hands are in fists, the veins very visible in his arms. He has golden hair like Peeta and the rest of the merchants. There are no whispers as he steps up onto the stage, the only sound the heavy clunking of his boots. He stops in front of me and stares me down, his blue eyes cold to the core. I cast my own eyes down to my shoes once again.
"Go on shake hands you two," Effie urges on. I stare at him and he jutts his hand out. My hand looks so tiny in his huge palm, and he has a lot more force than I could ever muster as he shakes my hand, along with my whole arm.
"Ladies and Gentlemen! Your District Twelve Third Quarter Quell Tributes!"
No one said anything.
Did anything.
It was completely silent.
After it was clear we were getting no reaction we were whisked away into the Justice Building and the big doors shut behind us, locking us in with the quiet. My mind raced, I couldn't be quiet and I also couldn't help but puke up my breakfast in a nearby plant.
May the odds please please be in my favor.