I groan softly as I sit up in the bed, my dark hair loose form the tight bun on the back of my head. I'd have to ask my mother to fix it later. And about the dark green dress hanging up on the back on the door. Only having one room, me and my parents had to share a room. Sometimes, me and my father would take turns sleeping in the chair. Still, at times I wake up to find myself wedged in between them. Today was no different. That, except they wern't there...Of course, it is the Reaping day. For the past six years, I'd been able to avoid it. Though, the bale raising in my throat told me I wouldn't be going back home after it was done.
My bluish gray eyes travel arond the small kicthen as mother fixed my hair, me sitting down infront of her legs as she sat in a chair. Mayberry Dogwood is a middle aged woman who never looked it. Except today. "Ire..No matter what happens today.." I look up to my father. His gray eyes were fixed on me, unreadible. At that moment, I realize how aged he looks aswell.
"Dad, I be fine." I flash him a lop-sided grin as I stood. He saw right though it, I know. Because seconds later, he pulls me close to his chest.
"We're going to be late..." My mother kisses my cheek then lightly pushes me back upstairs to fetch the dress. It was simple really, with a bit of lace around my waist. The color, I found I liked. Matched with a pair of leather boots that molds onto my feet and I was ready. Seveal others are walking toward the square, silent as if someone was passed on. For twenty-three people, that'd be true. Being eighteen, I pray to whatever god there was there wasn't a slaughter of children this year. Of course, they didn't seem to hear. Of course.
The town was better then the Seam, that much was easy to see. Still, the scent of coal burning and smog fills the air. Anyone else wouldn't be able to bare it.-Unless you're from District twelve, of course. Guilt became a hard pit in the bottom of my stomach as I spot Gale walking from the Seam. He is the same age as me, but being where he's from, his name had forty-two chances of getting drawn.
Myself, had seven now.
Born in town, my family never had to worry about not having enough to eat. As he looks to me, I quickly turn away, walking faster toward the front, my eyes catching the sight of blonde hair as I past. Prim. It was hard not to care for her. Everyone liked Primrose Everdeen.
Her sister, Katniss, on the other hand..let's just say we wern't exactly friends.
Turning back to the front, Effie Trinket stands out to me, her freakishly white smile, pinkish hair and spring green suit. FAKE. It hurts my eyes. After seeing her for six years, I can't help but be sick to my stomach. All fake.
The mayor now holds my attention as he retells the history of Panem. As if we hadn't learned it in school over and over again. It's the same story every year. How the Nation of Panem rose up out of the ashes of what was once North America. Blah blah blah..
Just as always, the mention of the Thirth district sparks my interest for a few moments before I'm lost again. Lost in my hatred toward the Capitol.
How could they watch children die?
Out of sevenity-four years, a total of two people have won from twelve. One is dead. The other, is Haymitch and he always seems to be drunk. Today is no different. Not a sound escapes me as he tries to give Effie a big hug and I almost feel bad for her. Haymitch looks like he hasn't bathed in months.
"Happy Hunger Games!" Her annoying Capitol accent fill my ears, deafing them. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" A scrowl crosses my face. Someone is always unlucky. I look around for a few moments, catching sight of Madge a and small smile crosses my lips. She's my only real friend, and I hope it's not her. She'd never make it. Too soft.
Then, Effie says as she always does "Ladies first!", then the Capital woman smooths out the paper. And it's not Prim, not Madge. It's me. Ire Dogwood.
So, what do you think?
I know, I know...
The Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins.
Mr., Mrs., and Ire Dogwood belong to me.