Chapter Text
I shot up from where I was lying, my hands tightly gripping the thin cotton sheets that surrounded me. I had just woken up from a nightmare. I couldn’t remember what it was about, the contents of it almost immediately leaving my mind as I woke. It was a cool day in District 4, a light breeze came through my small window causing me to shiver. As I sat there panting in a cold sweat, I remembered what day it was. Reaping day. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t have been an issue, but for the past few years, district 4 has been… lacking volunteers. Ever since Finnick Odair won the 65th games in a matter of days, the tributes from Districts 1 and 2 have been more cautious. By more cautious I mean that they have made sure not to let the tributes from 4 advance in the games too far before they slaughter them.
Despite popular opinion, Districts 1 and 2 are and always will be, much stronger than District 4. However, that’s not to undermine our talents, due to our district being fishing we have grown to be rather good at handling weapons as well as hunting. The only issue is that people are sick of our tributes being strung along in the career packs, just to be murdered when there are only a handful of people left. Hence the lack of volunteers.
After I let myself calm down and catch my breath, I decided to get up to cook breakfast. I lived in one of the poorest areas of District 4 in a small run-down shack that I shared with my older brother Lyal and my father, Marlin. My mother had died two years before I was born from a rare uncurable illness. Well, uncurable with the medicine that we could afford. There was surely some fancy Capitol drug that could easily cure it. I was too young to really remember her, in fact, I don’t think I would even remember what she looked like if it weren’t for the pictures. My brother wasn’t too young though. He was four, which is still fairly young, but he remembers her. He doesn't like to talk about her, he finds it too painful.
Lyal was never particularly good at showing his emotions, he had to grow up too fast after her death. By the time he was nine, he took care of everything around the house, except for the money. That was my father's job, or it was. My father like most people worked at the fishery until a few years ago his leg got stuck between two boats. It was so badly injured that it had to be amputated from the knee down. We couldn’t afford a prosthetic, so that was the end of his working career, and the start of my brothers. He was only twelve. The loss of my mother and then his leg a few years later broke my father. He can’t walk, he can’t work, he can’t do anything. So, since the accident, he had devoted his life to sitting in the old sofa chair drinking his life away. He barely talks except to ask my brother to buy him more boos.
That’s how our life has been for years, both my brother and I work, and every now and then we have to sign up for tesserae, but we get by. As I make breakfast, I try to block out thoughts of the reaping. As I’m frying an egg my brother comes out, still dressed in his night clothes as the reaping isn’t until the afternoon. Silently he walks to the small grimy fridge that needs to be cleaned, and he pours himself a glass of water. He leans against the fridge deep in thought as he watches me cook. I can sense his tall frame behind me. He looks a lot like my mother, tall with blue eyes and a slight tan. I on the other hand look identical to my father. I’m shorter than Lyal with fair skin and hazel eyes. I have long wispy mushroom brown hair and a heart-shaped face with mouse like features.
“How many times is your name in there?”
Lyal’s question startles my train of thought.
“Only four,” I reply. Even though we barely get by Lyal has never allowed me to take tesserae. Over the years he has taken tesserae for the both of us and sometimes our father.
“What about you?” I ask as I look over my shoulder. His body stiffens.
“Twenty-three.”
My eyes search for any sign of emotion on his face, but as usual, I find none. I turn back to my eggs and gently nod my head, taking in this information. I know that there is a high chance that he might be picked, not many people in District 4 have to take tesserae. The mere thought of him being picked terrifies me. He can sense this.
“Only one more year, one more year I have to get through without being picked and then I’m free of this.” His voice is gentle and reassuring.
“One more year,” I repeat as I turn around smiling. We stand there for a minute soaking in the reality that were left with.
“Umm, I gotta get ready for work, I have an earlier shift thanks to the reaping.” Lyal starts to walk back toward his room. “Can you go down to the markets and get some stuff?” he asks.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Thanks, there’s a list on the table.” I smile at him as I walk to my room to get dressed. My outfit consists of a long off-white milkmaid dress, brown leather boots and a matching worn leather jacket. Standard dress in District 4. Before I head out, I throw away the empty bottles of liquor that surround my passed-out father, I also leave a serving of breakfast on the small stool next to him for when he wakes. I grab the list off the table as well as a woven bag and head out the door.
The trip to the markets is short taking no more than five minutes. Although it's still fairly early in the morning the streets are alive. Small children running around whilst their exhausted parents try to control them, old women selling various homemade concoctions out of run-down market stalls, and bigger stalls with people yelling out sale prices. I go from stall to stall purchasing only what I’m sure I need. My purchases consist of various foods, cotton, a collared shirt for my brother to wear to the reaping, cough syrup, and a few bottles of liquor. Despite only being sixteen most vendors will still sell liquor to me. I think they know that it's for my father, but mostly I think they feel sorry for me.
As I’m walking back, I pass one of my good friends, Dory Wingchester. She is making fishhooks off to the side of her family's stall. Dory is stunning, she’s got a beeline of boys who would sell their souls just to date her, but she never takes an interest. She has long dark hair that she pins behind her ears with clips. She has a slender face with angular features and hypnotising green eyes. In a way, she reminds me of a witch or a fairy.
“Hey Lyd!” she says as she comes around to hug me. My face lights up as I see her. I let very few people call me by this nickname, only her and Lyal. The silence that comes next is awkward. Neither of us really feels like talking about the reaping which appears to be the elephant in the room.
“Oh! I’m engaged,” Dory exclaims. She holds her hand out to me showing off a beautiful ring made out of wire and sea glass. My eyes nearly fall out of my head in shock.
“What! Since when were you seeing anyone?” I pick up her hand holding it closer to my face to inspect the ring.
“I wasn’t, my um, my parents set me up with some fisherman.” I look at her as she says this, her bubbly expression has disappeared. Arranged marriages are common here but I can tell she doesn’t want to marry this guy. She notices my face falling and starts to make up for what she disclosed to me.
“He’s like from a wealthy family or something, he’s, he’s a good one to marry. I’m real excited” She forces a smile.
“Oh that’s, that’s great Dory,” My mouth is smiling but my eyes are full of sympathy.
“I’d love for you to be my maid of honour,” she says trying to change the tone of the conversation.
“Oh um, yeah sure.” I’m still bewildered by the news. I look down at my bag of supplies before looking back at her. “I, I have to get going,” I say motioning toward the bag. “But I’ll see you after the reaping.”
“Sure,” she says putting on a smile. “Oh, and Lyd,” she says. I turn back around to face her.
“Yeah?” Dory grins before putting on her best Capitol accent.
“Good luck!” she starts. I grin back at her.
“And may the odds be ever in your favour,” I finish trying my best to replicate her accent. She chuckles before going back to her fishhook.
When I arrive home, I unpack my supplies and do a bit of cleaning. The food that I left for my father is untouched and it appears that he hasn’t moved since I left. I still have a small amount of time to kill before the reaping, so I decide to do some odd jobs. Hemming clothes, cleaning fish, repairing fishing nets.
About an hour before the reaping my brother arrives home. We both bathe, shave and get dressed. I wear a simple white dress with a collar and pearl-coloured buttons. The dress has pretty blue embroidery along the waistband. Lyal wears the cotton collared shirt that I bought for him along with a pair of khaki trousers. I pin my hair up into a half-up half-down style with a few small braids woven into it. Once I am happy with my hair I go to help my brother. He’s helpless at doing his hair. As I help him style his hair using some hair grease I decide to tell him about Dory.
“Dory’s getting married,” I say trying to sound nonchalant. He raises his eyebrows in amusement.
“Wow, a bit young isn’t she.”
“It was an arranged marriage.” You can now tell by my tone that I’m not happy about the whole situation. Lyal nods his head in thought.
“To who?” He turns his head to face me. Using my hand, I jerk his head back to the front so I can continue styling his hair.
“Some random fisherman.” I continue to do his hair as I wait for a reply.
“Well, I guess that’s one perk of having an alcoholic cripple for a parent,” he says sarcastically. I let out a chuckle at his remark.
“Done!” I say stepping back from his hair. He gives me a half-hearted smile.
“Thank you.” It's hard to sound enthusiastic when we know what will soon be taking place. He places a firm yet comforting hand on my shoulder as he senses my tenseness.
“Everything will be okay, I promise,” His words are comforting as he pulls me in for a hug. As he pulls away from the hug his hands remain on my shoulders.
“Make sure you come find me after the reaping okay,” he says. I nod.
As we approach the town square, we can already see all of the other twelve to eighteen-year-olds going into single-file lines to get their fingers pricked. I join the girls and Lyal joins the boys. Since this morning the weather has got considerably hotter and I’m sweating as I stand in the direct sun. slowly one by one each girl gets their sample taken and identified. Eventually were all standing in rows facing the stage. I look over at the boys hoping to spot Lyal but I can’t see him. My heart is beating pretty fast by now and I'm getting more anxious by the minute. I try to take deep breaths to calm down, but it isn’t helping. The square falls silent at we see the escort for District 4, Thistle Maroon step up to the microphone.
Thistle is an interesting woman. Her outfits consist of the usual Capitol foolishness. Today she has shaved eyebrows with bright green eye makeup that goes up to the space that they should be in. She had a matching bright green wig in the shape of a bow, and a fluffy round dress in the same shade of green. She looks utterly ridiculous. She lightly pats the microphone to check that it’s working before she starts to speak. She gives the whole shpiel about Happy Hunger Games before we have to watch the video. I zone out through the whole thing. As the video ends, she steps back up to the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” her singsong voice announces.
“It is now the time that we choose our boy and girl tribute!” Her smile is obnoxious as she beams down at us.
“For the ladies, do we have a volunteer!” She pauses waiting for someone to volunteer. Silence.
“Okay, well that will be fine.” She strides over to the fishbowl and reaches in. She carefully plucks a name from the top of the bowl before she returns to the microphone. She opens the slip and reads the name.
“For the girls… Lydia Overbrook!”