It was a warm morning on the day of the reaping, you still had to participate in, for one more year. “one more of these inhumane assemblies and your name will be gone from that stupid glass bowl."*

That's what Finnick had said to you more or less. He'd gone to every reaping, even after he was safe from the things, and had kept an eye on you, like a guardian angel. It was almost as if when he was there, your name couldn't possibly be read out on that stage. Almost.