Chapter 2

So I pull back from the warm embrace and stare into the dark gray eyes of Rory. He's Gale's younger brother. We're around the same age. Although we've made small talk before we've never really had a proper conversation. We're friends, but not Gale and Katniss kind of friends.

"Rory?" I'm shocked at how strangled my voice sounds as I say his name. Maybe I've been crying for more than I thought.

He looks at me with pity, but he looks fazed himself.

"Prim?" he says with a slight smile on his face.

I can't help it. I smile back.

He's stopped hugging me now, and although I'm not sure why, I find myself missing the feeling of someone's arms around me.

"What are you doing here?" I say, clearing my throat.

"Just came by to see how you were doing, you know? With Katniss and all,"

Hearing my sister's name brought on a pang of sadness.

My eyes start to water again and so I look away from Rory. I don't want him to see me cry. He looks over to me again and somehow realizes that tears are silently pouring down my face.

"Don't cry, Prim. It'll be okay. She'll survive, don't worry,"

I look at him and smile. But then I become aware of my looks. I must look hideous.

I've never really bothered with how I looked. Most people here in 12 resembles each other in one way or another. So to every passerby I probably seem like just any other girl. But for some reason I feel like I should look nice around Rory. But why? It's not like he's different from any other boys our age. Just because his brother is best friends with my sister doesn't make him any different.

I quickly turn away from him and run into the house screaming "I have to go, see you later!"

I peek out the window a second later. He looks confused and then troubled again. He walks down the steps and towards his house, and it's almost like he was never there. My mother walks into the house.

"Prim?"

I walk away from the window and towards my mother. She hugs me. It feels good to be hugged, but Rory's was so much more...warmer.

It's not that my mother was mean or anything, but it felt better hugging Rory. I feel like a horrible person, but what do you know? I am one.

I let go of Mom and walk into the bedroom where we all sleep. I lay down on the cot me and Katniss used to share and breathe in deeply. It still smells like her. She smelled fresh, like the woods. Probably because that was where she was most of the time.

I feel the tears pool in my eyes again, and one rolls down my face as I close my eyes to sleep.

"Prim?" says my mother softly, sitting down on the edge of the cot.

I open my eyes and smile, only to have it turn into a frown after remembering the events of yesterday.

"They'll be at the Capitol soon. I thought you might want to watch with me. And Gale's family, of course,"

This was a "tradition" of sorts at our house. Every year we switch houses to watch the Hunger Games. Believe me, we don't want to. But it's mandatory that everyone watches it. The Capitol knows when our TV is on or off. So we basically spend around two weeks being at each other's house constantly. We started this when both our fathers died in the Mines. It was hard for my mother and when Hazelle called us over to her home she gratefully accepted, wanting to get out of the house for a few days. Of course, she wouldn't totally be out of it, she'd still have to change.

They wouldn't show us much today, but it was mandatory, and so Hazelle, Rory, Vick. and little Posy squeeze into our tiny house. Gale's out hunting. He doesn't care about the rules. Neither did Katniss, when she was here. They used to go hunting in the morning and get a wild dog or turkey for us to feast on. The Capitol has these motion-sensor things where they register the amount of people in the room. As long as the amount of people who should be in the family are there and are moving sometimes they don't care how many people we watch with. In fact, they encourage us.

We wait until Gale gets back to turn on the TV. Luckily we haven't missed the part of them getting down in the Capitol.

Mom sits on our three-seated couch along with Hazelle and Vick. Posy is on Hazelle's lap, playing with an old doll of mine that my dad had whittled out of a piece of wood for me. I know it's childish, but I feel like snatching it out of her chubby baby hands and holding it tight with me. That may as well be my last memory with my father.

*flashback*

Dad and I were always the first ones awake. Today I woke up with a nightmare and Dad stayed up with me.

"How would you like a present?" asked Dad with a smile.

"Can I?" I asked, shocked. We've never had enough money to buy toys and games so we made do with what we had.

"Yup! And we're going to make it ourselves!"

I remember being disappointed for a moment as Dad disappeared into his bedroom. When he came out though, that was the start of the best day ever. Well, more like a few hours.. But the best of my life nonetheless. He opened up the bag and showed me all the different shapes and sizes of wood he had collected while hunting over the years. There were so many that I felt overwhelmed.

I didn't want one of them to feel bad because I didn't pick it. On an impulse, he put his hand all the way at the bottom of the bag and felt around for a moment. When he finally picked one from the bottom and showed it to me I knew that was the perfect wood for whatever toy my dad was going to make for me.

"Daddy? What are you going to make me?"

He smiled and knelt down so we were face to face. "Anything you want,"

"Can I have a doll?"

"Sure," he's said, and he began whittling and sawing and chipping away at the wood until it became a doll. Our sofa was already falling apart so he held his finger up to his lips and with his other hand pulled out a cluster of thread. He then glued it to the doll's head and drew a happy smiling face on it.

He handed it to me and I hugged it to my chest.

"Thanks Daddy," I said, smiling. I was so happy. Toys were rare in 12 as well as expensive and I really truly loved the doll.

"Anytime," he said, hugging me.

*flashback over*

The doll's hair is almost all gone and it's drawn on face has faded but I still feel a part of my father in them. It was his passion. Making things out of wood and being in the woods himself. That's when he was most happy.

I force myself not to look at Posy who is roughly tossing it around. She's just a kid but I can't shake the feeling of wanting to rip it out of her hands.

I turn to look at Gale. He's seated in my father's armchair, the one by the fire. He's staring into the ground with his eyebrows furrowed. He gets like that when he's upset or angry.

I'm seated on the floor in front of the TV with a tattered blanket wrapped around me. Even though its not cold at all I still feel the need to have it around me. It makes me feel protected. Like I felt with Rory when he hugged me.

Rory is seated beside me and I glance over at him. He's tapping his fingers nervously. I suddenly wonder if I look alright. It normally wouldn't matter to me but it felt different with him. I'm not sure why but my fingers fly up to my hair as I straighten it out. I didn't brush it before I went to sleep so when I woke up it was knotted and messy. Katniss and I used to brush each other's hair before we went to sleep. It was the only time I was truly alone with my sister and I loved it. She never yelled at me or lost her patience. She did at Mom but never with me.

God, I miss her so much.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts by the Capitol's anthem ringing through our house. I can't help but shudder. They announce that they're going to be showing us the tributes getting off the trains.

The District 1 through 11 tributes are a blur to me. I don't tune in until I hear the announcer say "Please welcome the tributes from District 12, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!"

I look up in time to see Peeta and my sister. She's staring out at the vastness of the Capitol until she sees what Peeta's doing, waving to the crowd. She mimics him, although not smiling like he is.

Before I notice a tear runs down my face. It Katniss didn't volunteer for me is this how it would've been? She looks so broken stepping off the train platform. And then I realize.

It should've been me. It should've been me sadly looking out at the Capitol. It should've been me looking sadder than sad as I stepped off the train. It should've been me who's about to die.

I don't think twice before letting out a strangled sob and running out the front door. I run and run until I reach the Meadow. I sit down (more like fall) and sob. It feels wrong, sobbing for hours like this. Katniss would've wanted me to be strong. She would've been strong.

But what can I say?

I am not Katniss.

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DramioneForever123