16Hey everyone! I'm back :). We're on to the District 2 reapings. I know my update schedule is strange, but I can't predict when I'll have time. If I don't update often, I haven't forgotten. I took a short break as I was overwhelmed with things going on. You're always welcome to PM me. I am going to start updating more regularly, so I hope you stick around. Let's get on with the reapings for District 2! :)
Ceres Ostrower, 18, District 2
Sweat builds on my forehead as I punch the dark blue sack in front of me. It swivels and I move backward to avoid the blow. The cool air bites my skin, and I feel a rush of adrenaline. I swing again, punching harder than before. Swing. Dodge. Swing. Dodge. I'm moving quick, strategically hitting the points of the bag I know would get a person down. A person.
Suddenly I drop my fists by my sides. I imagine a person standing there, terrified. It's a girl. Her face is blurry, but I watch as her hands shake and her legs start to wobble. She's begging me to spare her, her lip quivering. With horror, I realize it's Alana.
I step backward, and almost fall over the mat, but I don't care. She stares at me, helpless. I cover my face with my dust covered hands, and sink to the ground.
"What are you training for bro? The couch?"
I hear a familiar voice, but it sounds so distant. I stand up abruptly, and Alana is no longer there.
"You okay?" I hear the voice again, Blaze's voice. I turn to him and force the corners of my mouth to turn upward.
"Yeah just thought I saw something," I said, "Haven't slept since I was chosen so it's probably that."
"That'll do it," Blaze replies. He grabs my punching glove that fell on the cement and handed it to me. "It's time to leave. We got about an hour until The Reaping."
I take a deep breath and take the glove. "Thanks."
Blaze and I walk towards his house, to avoid my parents. They've been bothering me since the day I was born about the games, and I know today will be a combination of all those years.
We stride through the busy streets of two, where I hear the whispers of my classmates. I look around and start to move a little faster, eager to avoid the stares.
"Let's take the back way, these people make me uncomfortable with their eyes all over me," I quietly say to Blaze.
He chuckles. "Says the one who's going to be broadcast to millions."
I roll my eyes as we cross a road where not a lot of people go. Blaze and I found it when we were younger, while we were exploring areas we weren't supposed to.
His bangs fall into his face as we start to jog, and he runs his fingers through his red hair. His hair is short, but the bangs at the front always seem to fall instead of stay at the side.
We reach Blaze's house and rush into his room. I left my suit here the other day, so it would be easier for me to change. I head into the bathroom and throw on the suit. It's a fancy crimson suit my mom and dad insisted I wear. They never were chosen to volunteer, so they're way too excited about this. All I can hope is that if I win, they'll spare Alana. She isn't the type to be in the games. She helps children tie their shoes, bakes food for older men and women, cares for sick district two citizens; she is not made for killing. I guess I am.
I move my hands through my thick brown hair until it looks presentable, and walk back to where Blaze stands looking at himself in the mirror, flexing his muscles.
"Cocky are we?" I ask in a sarcastic tone.
He just laughs. "Yup!"
With a glance at the clock I realize we need to leave. I tell Blaze and we jog to the Town Square. I scan the area for Alana. I find her with her usual smile faded, and her long brown hair in french braids, which is usually just simply down. We make eye contact, and I make my way to her.
"Hey lil sister, how are you feeling?" I ask her. She rolls her eyes at the nickname but doesn't make a sarcastic comment. Instead, she wraps her arms around me.
"Not good big brother. I don't want you to go and die! Who cares what our parents think?" She tells me. I stare at the ground and sigh.
"I have my reasons Alana."
She lets go of the hug and looks at me. "If you die, I'm gonna kill you."
With that, she makes her way back to the fourteen year old section, as I get my finger pricked. Blood the same color as my suit drips from my finger, and my identity is scanned.
I walk with Blaze to the eighteen year old section.
What am I doing?
Delphi Rasha, 13, District 2
My breathing won't stop getting heavier. I hold my stomach, as the knot grows more and more. I can't do this!
I take a book and chuck it across my room, knocking over a picture frame of my mom, dad and me. I don't care, they're the ones forcing me into this.
Pieces of glass litter my once clean floor, and tears stream down my face. Little droplets of water drip on to my sheets, and I stare at them through blurry eyes. My chest tightens and my breathing becomes shorter.
"What was that noise Delphi?" I hear my mother yell from downstairs. I don't reply, I only stare down. That is, until my mother storms into my room.
"What do you think you're doing throwing things in your room? Clean this up now!" She then walks out again.
I drag myself out of my bed, and grab the dress left on my doorknob. I throw it on, and look into my full length mirror. It's long, and goes past my knees. I see my tan skin reflect nicely against the purple fabric. My curly red hair falls past my chest, and I feel it tickle my arms.
I turn away from the mirror and put some shoes on. I don't want to be on Capitol cameras accidentally barefoot.
I step over the pieces of glass, and don't bother cleaning it. I won't be here tomorrow anyway.
I leave the house without saying goodbye, and find a park I always go to read. The wet grass flies droplets to my ankles, and I cringe at the icy feeling. To avoid getting dirt on my dress, I find a bench under a ceiling. I'm not sure when they made this place, but I always found it strange, yet beautiful.
I carefully take a seat, and watch as rain falls steadily to the ground, just as my tears had before. Maybe me and the world have something in common. We're both crying because of the games.
I kick my feet as they hang from the bench, just as I did when I was little. I take a slow and deep breath to calm myself. I'm not supposed to volunteer, an eighteen year old girl is supposed to. But if I don't volunteer, I don't know what my parents would do to me. What if the boy kills me for taking the girls spot?
I bury my head in my hands. The boy. He was the same one who told the kids who were insulting me to back off. Would he really kill me? I imagine his soft blue eyes, as he helped me up. He doesn't seem like a killer. He said I remind him of his sister, so he wouldn't be able to hurt me right?
I shake my head and stand up. I need to head to the square.
The rain starts to slow, but my curls have already frizzed. Great, this will look wonderful on camera.
I see a bunch of kids grouped together like chickens ready to be slaughtered and I wonder, what has our world come to? The woman at the front forcefully grabs my arm before I even reach it out, and pricks my finger. She lets go, and waves her hand for me to leave. I cringed at the tiny stab of the needle, but I hide it.
I find the group of thirteen year old's, and awkwardly stand by myself. I've never had many friends, in fact, I have none. It's not that I couldn't, but I choose not to become too close with others. I prefer my books and the forest over lies and manipulation.
Our escort steps on to the stage, excited at having a loved district. Her dress is red and black, and stops above her knees. Her lipstick is somehow redder than her dress, and is the same color as her hair, which stands unnaturally tall. Her black see through gloves reach her elbows, and they stretch as she grabs the microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen...welcome to the 98th Hunger Games!" Cheers roar from the crowd, and she poses and smiles with her fake, pearly white teeth. I unenthusiastically raise my fist and shout a "Woo!"
She plays the video that's always shown every year, with our president making excuses for their terrible ideas and actions. I do my best to avoid yelling at how stupid the video was, and watch our escort.
"I'll never get tired of that speech," She says. "But we most go on! Ladies first!"
She steps towards the fishbowl of names, and I feel my heartbeat accelerate. She shovels her hand in the bowl, and takes out a small slip of paper.
"Olivia Woodhull!" She says, knowing there will be a volunteer. I watch as the eighteen year old girl, Rachel I believe, steps forward. I panic, running forward past all of the girls around me. Their eyes widen, and I step right in front of the stairs.
"I volunteer as tribute!"
Everyone goes silent. Rachel's brows furrow, and her eyes are confused, but furious. Her jaw hangs open, and her fists are tight.
Then chaos ensues.
Rachel sprints towards me, and grabs my shoulders. She shoves me to the ground, and a pain shoots up my leg. Gravel sticks into my arms, and I groan.
Some people cheer, others scream in terror.
Rachel pins both of my arms with one of her hands with force, and reaches her other arm up and forms her hand into a fist. She punches me, and I yelp in pain. She does it once again, and my vision becomes blurry. Pain is all I feel. Pain and embarrassment.
Before she can hit me again, peacekeepers grab Rachel and hold her back. I look up at her with darkened vision, and she stares at me with anger in her eyes. She blows a piece of dark brown hair from her face, and sneers.
I crab walk backwards, and scream as a peacekeeper lifts me up by my armpits on to my feet.
They shove me forward, and I dizzily make my way to the stage. I can barely see, as my world changes. Normal. Darkness. Normal. Darkness.
"I'm so sorry dear, we didn't expect someone to attack you, what is your name?" The escort asks me.
I close my eyes and open them again, and mutter an answer. "Delphi Rasha."
"Well young lady, I'm sorry for the inconvenience, and I'm excited for your volunteer," She says. "On to the boys."
My heartbeat is in my head, as it pounds against my skull.
She shuffles through the names, and picks a piece of paper.
"Darren Phoenix!" She states to the crowd.
The boy who helped me steps forward with a smile.
"I volunteer!" He says with a powerful voice. He casually walks up with a broad smile, and his head held high.
He shakes the escorts hand, and faces the crowd.
"What's your name young man? She asks.
"Ceres Ostrower," He says, then turns to me. He looks concerned for a second, but faces the crowd with a smile again.
"Well this has been interesting," Our escort says as the crowd laughs. I feel more tears, as they laugh about me. That's what they do. Laugh at children as they get hurt. Horrible.
"Shake hands you two," Our escort says. Ceres reaches out, and I weakly grab his hand. As I try to shake, dizziness and pain overwhelms me, as the world becomes dark and completely silent.
Well hi everyone! How did you like this chapter? Poor Delphi, she is going through the most. Will her luck increase in the future? How will the Capitol and other tributes react to her reaping? Ceres has the crowd on his side, but will he be able to keep up the facade of not caring about fighting others? Please review, it makes me happy and encourages me to write. Tell me what you think will happen next, and who are your favorite tributes so far! Thanks for reading as always :).