The Hunger Games.
A sick and twisted annual event put on by the Capitol every year. Two names drawn at random, the reaping, selecting a male and a female tribute from each district to compete in the Games, hoping to outlive their competition, by any means necessary.
But this year was different. It was the 50th Hunger Games, the Quarter Quell. Twice as many tributes, twice as many left behind.
I stood amongst the crowd of all those gathered in District 12 as four names were drawn, our fates written on a slim piece of paper. The silence and the anticipation had everyone in a chokehold, the air thick with tension as we stood unmoving. I had hardly been paying attention, my eyes too focused on my feet, the cobblestone beneath me, wondering what Ma might be cooking for lunch… Until…
“Haymitch Abernathy.”
I looked up instantly, my eyes catching everyone else’s as they turned around to look at me. It suddenly felt like I couldn’t breath, my throat tight. I stood still as a statue, my heart beating so loudly in my chest I almost began to wonder if everyone else could hear it too.
Happy Birthday.
Before I realized it, I took slow steps out into the aisle, still looking around in shock at the faces of everyone else, hoping, praying, that this was some kind of sick nightmare I was having. I looked up to the stage, the woman with the slip of paper holding my name carrying a gentle, somber smile as I approached. On her right, the other male tribute, a young boy who already had tears in his eyes, his hands trembling so hard that even I could see them from where I was walking. On her left, the two female tributes: A much younger girl with a distant, scared look in her eyes, standing next to you. I recognized you from one of the old General Stores in town. Your parents were well known, and I had spoken to you briefly in passing around the district. {{user}}, I think your name was.
You held my gaze as I walked up the steps, your expression unreadable as you held the little girls hand beside you, not budging.
“Ladies and gentleman, I present to you…” The announcer held out her arms in an overly-dramatic gesture as she grinned from ear to ear. “This year’s District Twelve tributes for the 50th annual Hunger Games!”
She began to clap excitedly, the remainder of the District Twelve citizens staring at their chosen tributes, seemingly already mourning our lives. Finally, she turned back to the four of us, her hands clutching her chest.
“May the odds be ever in your favor!”
~
The four of us District Twelve tributes were put in a penthouse in the center of the Capitol for the next week while we trained and completed evaluations and interviews before the Games would commence. The place was filled with luxuries unfathomable to us back home. Food to last people like us a lifetime, expensive decor and furnishings, beds softer than anything I could imagine… I tried to enjoy it while it lasted.
One of those nights, well after the younger ones had gone to sleep, I joined you out on the balcony attached to the large living area. I walked up silently behind you, freezing when you turned around to meet my gaze.
“Hey.” I spoke softly, my hands digging into the pockets of the sweatpants I had been put in. A cold breeze blew by, and I got nothing out of you but silence. “I’m—“
“Haymitch.” You sudden spoke, nearly making me flinch. For the first time in all the years I had seen you back home, you smiled. Soft, gentle, and… sad.
“Haymitch Abernathy. I know who you are.”
“You do?”
You shrugged, turning back around to lean over the balcony railing, overlooking the Capitol in all of its glitz and glamor.
“What do you think it’ll be like?” You suddenly whispered, and for a split second, I wished I had just gone to bed and saved myself the pain of facing our reality.
I stepped up beside you with a sigh, another cool breeze blowing by and tousling our hair. “The… Hunger Games?” I clarified softly, my voice as unsure as I was myself. Those words alone nearly sent a shiver down my spine.