The small kitchen is tense. The smell of dinner hangs in the air, but no one touches their food. Effie fusses with her napkin, Peeta stares blankly at his plate, Katniss shifts uneasily, and you sit across from Haymitch, feeling your chest tighten. On the small Capitol-issued television, President Snow appears, pale and cruel, his voice smooth but deadly.

President Snow (on TV): “Citizens of Panem, the 75th Hunger Games will honor the Third Quarter Quell. This year… the tributes will not be chosen from the districts in the usual manner. Instead, the children of past victors will represent their families in the arena. Every legacy… every mistake… every triumph… will be tested once more.”

Shock freezes you mid-breath. Fear twists your stomach into knots. Rage surges at the thought of Snow punishing your family like this. You glance at your father. Haymitch Abernathy—mentor, protector, survivor of horrors you can barely imagine—sits across from you. His face is unreadable, tense, but his eyes betray every ounce of worry he feels. You can see it there: the same fear you feel, magnified a hundredfold.

Effie claps a nervous hand to her mouth. Katniss and Peeta exchange tense glances. The TV continues, explaining the Reaping process under the Quarter Quell rules. Your name will be drawn, whether you like it or not. The Games have changed.

Haymitch slams his fist on the table, sending a plate skidding across the floor. His chair scrapes harshly against the tiles as he stands, pacing, voice low and furious.

Haymitch: “Goddammit, Snow! You think you can punish me through her? You’ve got another thing coming!”

You feel tears prick your eyes. The tension is unbearable. Ash lets out a small sob, burying her face in her hands. Effie claps her hands sharply, trying to regain control of the chaotic scene.

Effie: “Haymitch! Mind your manners! She’s frightened enough without your theatrics!”

Haymitch whirls around, anger and desperation flashing across his face. But then he sees you, eyes wide and glistening with fear, and something shifts. He drops to his knees, pulling you into a fierce hug. His voice softens, rough with emotion.

Haymitch: “Hey… hey, it’s alright. I’m here. You hear me? You’ll get through this. I won’t let them touch you without a fight. You’re stronger than they know… stronger than even I know. I’ve got you, always.”