Chapter Text
Every year this day began the same for almost every child aged 12 through 18.
Though can it really count as a beginning if you never went to sleep in the first place? If you just laid there in your bed with your eyes closed and waited for sleep that would never come? How could it anyhow? Not when there was a squirming sensation low down in your belly that makes you feel like your body is trying to turn itself inside out. It urges you to pull at your hair and scream, to tear the strands right from your head so that it can’t split your body in two. If you do miraculously manage to find sleep, you’ll find no respite waiting for you in dreamland. Your dreams are poisoned and twisted into terrible nightmares that in turn haunt you in your waking hours. Because the visions of gore and horror could very well be a glimpse into your near future if you’re one of the unlucky chosen.
Fear is a nasty, wicked emotion.
I'm no stranger to fear. Fear haunts the districts like a loyal hound at the feet of its master. The closer it got to the reaping, the more the feeling seeped through the walls of every home to settle in the stomachs of their occupants. It was unavoidable. A fact of life for us.
Knowing that won’t stop my hands from shaking as I clean up in our meager washing tub.
The water is just really cold.
It won’t stop the tears from welling in my eyes as I brush through my wet curls.
My hair is just really tangled.
It won’t stop the nausea that overcame my stomach when I put on that white dress today.
I’m just coming down with something.
Lying would be the only way I could get through this day without losing it completely.
I can't afford any breakdowns today anyhow. There's far too much to do to before it was even time to get ready. As always I'm up even before the sun had started lighting up the sky. I have a to-do-list in my head, stuff that I did daily and then tasks I had picked up along the way.
Like most people in district 4, I like to stay busy. The morning of the reaping is the busiest of all because it gave you less time to think of what was coming later in the day.
People woke early and worked where they could until about 11:30, wherein everybody would pack up their stuff and wander back home to get cleaned up before they headed to the square.
This whole week had been filled with nothing but chaos as people from every other port in the district arrived in ours to attend the reaping. District 4 was definitely not the biggest district, but we still had a decent stretch of land under our jurisdiction and the demands of the capitol meant we had to make use of every little inch of space we could.
There were 8 main ports that were responsible for different portions of the work that we did here and they were all named after the components of a fishing boat or a ship.
I live in the 1st main port called the Bridge, named for the fact that all the major establishments, merchants, and district campuses were located here. Each port has their own stuff of course - besides The Academy, the Justice Building, and the train station - but we often have a better, more abundant supply than any other one because it was bigger, more populated, and better funded here than the other ports.
The 2nd port is the Helm - which is the 2nd wealthiest port and our closest neighbor - where the majority of our seafood is cleaned and prepared for shipping.
The 3rd is the Galley - our largest port in landmass. They produce most of our land crops and our salt.
4th, the Deck, where the majority of our fishing supplies is made and is the port with the least amount of water near it.
The 5th, The Bow- named for the fact that it's located at our southernmost point - where our material exports come from; pearls, sea glass, woven baskets, and the like were all made, inspected for imperfections, and then packaged up to go to the Capitol there.
Port 6 is actually located on our opposite side from Port 2, and called The Cabin - second biggest port and has the largest population because they produced the most fish year round. In the beginning years of the Hunger Games, the Academy was actually located there to be closer to where there was the most children but it was moved here after it became mandatory for every child to attend at the age of 6.
Port 7, The Hull, is where our boats were made. It's the only port that had a direct path to every other port.
Then last is the Stern. Like the Bow it's named because of its location in our northernmost area - it's the coldest port and had the least amount of people so it was one of the poorest but they were responsible for our most difficult resource to gather; marine mammal parts. It was one of those capitol delicacies that only the elite could afford so they paid a lot more money for the small amount we could produce than they did for everything else.
Every single person who wasn’t deathly ill from all 8 ports was here in the Bridge for the reaping. The only thing that made it even slightly bearable was that everybody stepped in to help with the work that needed to be done. I had volunteered to help out this morning with delivering leftover food from town to all the local orphanages and all the poor families, who were struggling the most with the travel here.
The thing about having separate towns in the ports meant that instead of having all the poverty in one area, there were little pockets of poverty around the outskirts of each one. We tended to stick together around this time, meaning our area around the outskirts of the bridge was just as jam packed as it was in town and food was already hard to come by without all the extra bodies.
Thankfully, the local food merchants all pitched in to pool together their leftover resources from the nights before and donate them to those that needed it. I wanted to ask why they didn’t already do that, but I also wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, I knew that people were in equal measure their most generous as they were their most selfish when it came to the reaping. I understood despite my dislike of the double standard.
The group I volunteered with were in charge of the distribution of that food and it kept me busy for the entire morning before it was time to get washed up and all pretty for the Capitol cameras. It was extremely unfair that our most important event of the year was a raffle in which the prize was 2 children being sent to their deaths.
I threw my hair up in 2 tangled braids to keep it out of my face and put on my favorite work pants and shirt, which was basically just my regular pants and shirt because I couldn’t afford to have separate clothes for working and everyday wear. To be fair, I only went to 3 places anyways; school, academy training, and work.
I allowed myself to eat one small slice of toast on my walk into town to hold me over until it was time to eat after getting cleaned up and dressed this afternoon. It was was a little cold from the lack of sun, but the chill matched the quiet surrounding me.
Of course it was always quiet this time of day, 90% of the world was still sleeping. But even when the sun rose and the people began to wake, it would remain just as soundless. There was always this stillness that permeated the air today and tradition demanded you abide it. No matter how young or old; wealthy or poor; with family or alone, you gave your day to the silence as best you could to pay your respects to the grief that someone was going to have to go through that night.
I thought it was a beautiful sentiment. Despite us being a career district, we didn’t train our children for the glory. We were trained for survival and we knew that even our training didn’t guarantee it.
It was about a 45 minute walk from where I lived with my mother to the very center of town. I had had to get up far earlier than any of the people I would be meeting for the distribution to get there on time.
By the time I got to the spot the sky had started to pinken at the edges and I was surprisingly not the last person to arrive. The majority were definitely there but we were still missing about 3 others by my count. Those who were already there had gotten a head start on loading the crates into a couple small trucks, some of the few we were allowed to use for non essential transport items. Plus there would be a Peacekeeper in the drivers seat of each truck, so it would be hard to argue against us when we were willingly bringing supervision along.
“Morea!” The bright voice of Careen Oleary called as I finally became visible to the group.
Careen was the one in charge of organizing these types of projects. She was a muscular woman in her mid 40s, with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her and I had been working together since I turned 9 and my mother would allow me to go places around town on my own. My mother insisted I work the bare minimum of hours to make a little money but no more. The rest were supposed to be so I could do ‘normal childhood activities’. She had probably meant like playing games on the beach with the other kids my age, but she only gave a long suffering sigh when I told her that I had signed up to do volunteer work in my spare time. She didn’t try to discourage me, she knew it wouldn’t matter. She needn’t have worried. I had been their youngest volunteer so Careen kept me right at her side to keep an eye on me.
She threw an arm around my shoulders as I finished the trek to the rest of the group,” How are you my dear? I wouldn’t have been upset if you decided to stay home today you know?” I gave her a disbelieving look that she laughed at,” I know, I know. Trust me, I know you well enough by now to know I couldn’t keep you away from here without a weapon and even then my chances are low. But seriously girly, how are you? You gonna be alright today?”
I stopped both of us just before we reached the rest of group and put my hands on both of her shoulders to make sure we were looking each other in the eye,” Careen, I’m fine. Just like I was last year and the year before that and every year before that one too.”
“Alright, alright, if you say so,” She held her hands up in surrender and turned her head as one of the other volunteers, Taff by the sounds of it, called her name,” I’m gonna go finish supervising those idiots to make sure they don’t break anything again. I’ve got the rest of you waiting over there until it’s time to leave. We’ll talk about how we’re gonna do this before we head off. Love you girly. I’m always happy to have you here.”
I smiled as she left a smacking kiss on my cheek and bounded back over to the small group at trucks with a “Taff you better not have fucking dropped one of those boxes again!”
I briefly said hello to the other volunteers when I reached them and then we waited in uncharacteristic silence. The volunteers on the sidelines were all in my age group, so it was understandable that no one felt much like talking. It wasn’t long after I took my spot that I felt the air move on the empty side of me and when I turned my head to see it felt almost like I had been blinded by the sun. Of course it wasn’t the actual sun, it was just Finnick Odair with that strange little smile he always seemed to give me when we crossed paths. I felt my cheeks heat up a bit and was grateful that the darkness was still blanketing us so that he might not see it.
“Hey Finn. I didn’t know you were coming today.”
If I didn’t know better I would say he was blushing but there was no reason he would be so I dismissed it as just a trick in the low lighting. His hands were stuffed in the front pockets of his high quality cargo pants and he ducked his head a little as he rocked back on his heels.
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if I could make it so Careen just gave me the details and told me to meet everybody here if I was able to. She didn’t put me down on the sheet because she didn’t want to promise an extra person that might not be here.”
That made sense. Careen and a couple of the other usual volunteers - including myself a lot of the time since I was usually in charge of the portion of volunteers that were in my age group - worked together to devise a plan for every project using the volunteer sheet to decide who was going to do what ahead of time. We usually tried to account for one or two people not showing but it was the hope that there wouldn’t be any no shows.
“Well I’m really glad that you are here, I missed you on that one last week!” I told him smiling, nudging his elbow with mine and there was that trick of the light again. How weird.
“Yeah I’m really sorry about that. I really wanted to come but there was some stuff that I had to do and-”
“Hey,” I cut across him, leaning around to catch his guilt filled eyes that were definitely avoiding mine, “You don’t have to explain or apologize. It’s no big deal, we weren’t put out because you weren’t here or anything. I just think it’s more fun when you’re here.”
That seemed to catch his attention if the way his eyes went from dodging mine to suddenly looking intently into them,” You do?”
“Yeah of course I do silly. You’re my partner, if you’re not here I gotta work alone.”
His answering smile was so brilliant that I didn’t even notice the darkening around his cheeks begin again and I honestly felt a little starstruck for a moment. I don’t know why he was so surprised though, Careen had assigned him and I to work together on every project we’ve both done since he started showing up at the beginning of last year. After so long what else would he be if not my parnter when we worked paired together every project?
When I first asked her why she just laughed and told me I would thank her later for it, whatever that means. He did get this strange look on his face every time he caught Careen’s eye while we were working and she would just smirk at him. Maybe he had a little crush on her? She was very pretty, though the idea put a weird sour taste in my mouth for some reason.
“Yeah I’m your partner.” He breathed out, still smiling at me.
I smiled back at him and opened my mouth to say more but was cut off by Careen’s voice speaking just loud enough for us all to hear.
“Alright my little helpers! It’s time to go. Lets go ahead and talk about what the plan is before we get there. We’re gonna split up into 2 groups, 1 group for each truck. There are 20 of us, so 10 people each team. We’re splitting the area into 2 halves. Truck 1 is gonna be going to the furthest half, thats the one I’ll be going on. Truck 2 is obviously going to the other half. Morea will be in charge of that group because she’s been doing this the longest. You’ll unload the crates off the truck bed and then you’re going to load them on one of the carts we’ve brought. You’ll go in teams of 2 and push the carts down to each drop off zone. There are blue tents set up over each zone so you should have a very hard time getting lost on the way to it Taff,” She sent a pointed glare to the blonde man grinning to himself behind her,” Along with whose on each team, I’ve already decided on who will be together at the carts and Morea will have a copy of that for when you get there so I suppose that’s all I’ve got for you. Let’s get a move on!”
She handed me the paper and I opened it to see who was coming with me. I’d expected it but I still felt my heart jump when I saw Finnick’s name scrawled directly under mine. I didn’t know what game she was playing, but it wasn’t very subtle.
I called my group to truck 2 and we all piled into the bed of the truck with the food crates. It would be a much shorter drive than it was a walk thankfully. By the time we got the crates unloaded and set up at the drop off spots, the sun would be well on it’s way up and people would begin to stir. Then the families would line up and received their share of the food. It wasn’t much but it would last them the day which is more than they might’ve had otherwise.
I enjoyed the work and I loved helping people. Careen was basically who I wanted to be in 10 years time.
We did more than just deliver food too. Sometimes we went out to provide basic medical care to those who couldn’t travel far enough or afford it, other times we were out picking up trash off the beaches. What we did actually depended on how much money we received from donations. Sometimes it was a lot, sometimes it wasn’t much of anything. It just depended on how stingy the wealthy were feeling that month.
The key was to appeal to their “better nature” or as I like to call it, make it into a competition.
While there were indeed plenty up in the Bridge and the Helm who would look down on those living in the less fortunate areas, they all had enough ego in them to want to outdo each other on who could donate the most money. It was terrible that it all came down to bragging rights making them want to do it, but a donation was a donation no matter the reason why.
Besides, a larger portion of the money came from the district 4 victors and it wasn’t entirely uncommon to see more than just Finnick out helping us. Mags especially we saw the most of, despite her age the old woman had the tenacity of a woman 30-40 years younger and we couldn’t keep her away even if we tried. Mags was a collective favorite, she was out helping almost as much as I was. She usually brought at least one victor with her, to support her in her old age she says but we all know it’s just to make them have to get their hands dirty too and they let her get away with it.
It was going to be a long morning, all of us were going to be dead tired by the time it was time to gather in the square for the reaping but none of us would complain. The places we were going to were where our own families and friends lived, where we lived. If we didn’t take care of each other, who would?
The truck ride didn’t take very long, but the distribution of the food was what would take the longest. There were a lot of crates and a lot of hungry people. A couple of the older members of the crew, one not of reaping age anymore that is, would stay behind to once it hit 11:30 to make sure the last few people got what they needed while the rest of us traveled back to the center.
I spent most of the morning joking around with Finnick as he lifted incredibly heavy boxes with ease and helped hand out food with me after it was all unpacked.
“Honestly, I feel like half of these people aren’t even here for the food.” I mutter underneath my breath, watching a group of young girls giggle as they glance at Finnick.
He turned with a mock offended look on his face,“ Are you implying that I’m drawing a crowd?”
“Of course not. We just have the highest turnout rate in we’ve had in years and it just coincidentally happens to have happened the only time you’ve been here for this.” I tell him with a deadpan expression.
He ignores my sarcasm like it never existed and says with a decisive nod,“ Exactly. All coincidences.”
I can’t help but laugh and shake my head at him. He’s grinning at me and it makes my face feel warm, so I quickly busy myself with something else before he can see the full force of his effect on me. His chuckle after sends another flush to my cheeks and I curse inwardly that he’s actually that charming.
By the time we’re done both Finnick and I are a little more subdued, knowing what’s coming. We load the trucks back up much faster than the first time the crates went in and are headed back to the center of town within no time. He and I don’t talk much on the ride back, just sit next to each other silently. It’s pleasant. Comforting even. I appreciate his silent support. I think he appreciates mine too.
When we’re all ready to part ways, Finnick catches my arm gently to stop me. I look back at him and he looks a bit pale, nervous, sick almost, but he maintains steady eye contact with me.
“Good luck today.”
Someone else might not understand the full reason he said it but I know exactly why he did. He’s not just telling me ‘good luck’ to not get picked, he’s telling me he cares enough to want me specifically to be safe.
I reach out and squeeze his hand gently,” Thank you.”
He gives me a weak smile that I return before we both begin walking to our respective homes to get ready for the reaping.
It doesn’t feel like I’m walking home though. For some reason it feels like I’m walking closer and closer to my execution.
My mother is awake by the time I get home and has kindly set up the washing tub with fresh water to clean the morning off of me for the big day. She’s eating, which is good, her illness means she hasn’t done that much lately. I know she’s doing it to make me feel better, but I appreciate her trying anyways.
It doesn’t take long before I’m in front of the mirror in my reaping day dress, a white dress that used to belong to my mother.
“You can cry about it all later. Keep it together.” I mumbled at myself in the cracked dressing table mirror.
I want to throw up but I guess I look pretty at least with my soft red curls flowing like a veil down past my waist. The dress was my mother’s a long long time ago and I had worn it for every reaping since I turned 12. She doesn’t tell me where she got it from, but it’s one of the nicest things we own. She just loosely stitched the hem to be short enough for me and then simply let it out again the following year. It's the first year I'm wearing it in its original form. It's still much longer on me than it would’ve been on her, but my body had finally filled out enough that I didn’t feel as though I looked exactly like a child that was wearing her mother’s dress. No, there would be no mistaking that I had a woman’s body this year.
“You look so beautiful. And so grown up.” My mother’s voice said softly from behind me.
I turn my head enough to look into the identical looking pair of eyes behind me through the mirror and felt my chest ache at the sad helpless gleam in her eye,” Thanks mama. I got it from you.”
It dragged a soft hoarse chuckle from her,” It’s almost time my love.” Her voice sounded wet but we both ignored the tears we knew were clogging her throat. My mother had never been the type who liked for her weakness to be acknowledged, though she did her best to never instill that same instinct in her child. She always said she liked to think she was successful at least in that she had raised the kindest, most compassionate girl in the district. That I was a girl who had grown up with nothing, but would still tear the shirt off her back for anyone who needed it.
It made my mother worry about me if I ever got reaped. Honestly, it made me worry too. Would I be able to actually do what I had to do to come home? And if I did make it home, would I be able to cope with what I had been through to get there? It wasn’t a matter of skill, she’d always assured me. I was well versed in knife throwing, spears, as well as any other sharp object one comes across when learning the district trade and my teachers sung my praises about my scores in the survivalist courses. No, I had all the tools district 4 could give me to make it through the games. It was a matter of character apparently. I knew my heart was soft; empathy filled my lungs and compassion pumped through my veins. Asking me to kill was asking for me to surrender that which was the very core of my being.
Would surviving really be worth it if I wouldn’t be myself at the end of it?
My name was in the bowl 18 times this year. It was almost double the amount it would’ve been if we hadn’t desperately needed the tesserae. 18 slips of paper held my name. 18 opportunities for the capitol to sentence me to death, just this year alone. The odds were never in anybodys favor, but I knew it definitely wasn’t in mine.
I looked back to the mirror one last time, just taking myself in. My height and my hair color were about the only things that I hadn’t gotten from my mother. It was no burden to bear either, she was a beautiful woman. The pale freckled skin, the huge brown eyes, even my ears were shaped like hers. A piece of Serena Kelwright could be found in every single dip and curve of her daughters body.
‘How lovely it is to carry your mother in not just your heart, but in your very reflection as well,’ I mused to myself.
My mother’s jagged reflection appeared beside mine as she stepped forward, her slender hands coming to rub gently at my shoulders, ” Chin up my love. Everything is going to be fine. We still have time to eat something before we have to go.” It was not something she could feasibly promise and we both knew it, but she knew me and I had always needed somebody to help ground me when I flew too far away into my mind.
Giving a weak nod, I straightened my spine and set my shoulders the way I had seen her do when she was preparing to go confront the nasty old bat who lived in the home across from us about stealing our stuff from the porch.
Be strong. Be brave today of all days.
We did exactly as my mother suggested, eating small bits of seaweed bread robotically until it was finally time to go at 1 o’clock. We didn’t live far from the justice building but district 4’s entire population all had to be there too, meaning the crowds would be large and slow moving. It was much smarter to be early rather than late to something like this. It takes almost 35 minutes just to get to the sign in area in front of the square, but from there the process was quick and simple. Sign in, be directed to the roped off area where the other 15 year olds were, and then wait for it to be time.
I still felt nauseous from earlier, but I could feel it was just the fear eating away at my stomach. For once in my life, I viciously stamped it down until I didn’t feel very much of anything anymore.
The only thing I could manage to think to myself over the numbness and the background noise that having so many bodies stuffed into one place generated was that I was beyond grateful to have no siblings. Sure, it might’ve been lonely but today was the one day Id always allowed myself to be selfish on. To not stress myself further by worrying about anybody else but myself. Sure, I would be upset if any of my friends were chosen in my stead, but reaping day was the most selfish day of the year in the districts.
I had to think about my mother, otherwise I’d go throwing myself on that stage for every 12, 13 year old child that was forced to stand on it. I was all she had now, her siblings were dead and my father nowhere to be found. It was just us.
So I said a silent apology to the other girls in the crowd with me and repeated over and over again to any possible higher being that could hear my plea.
Please not me. Please not me. Please not me.
For some reason I could not shake the thought that my all pleading would be in vain and I hoped with all my heart that I was wrong.
I was able to tune back in in time to hear the mayor begin reading off the list of our past victors. Less than the other 2 career districts but definitely more than any of the non-careers. There were about 7 left, the few others lost to various causes of death. The oldest was of course Mags Flanagan, victor of the 11th games. It was astonishing to think she had mentored all the other victors on stage with her. Then there was Sturgeon Maguire of the 25th, Raine Cassidy of the 31st, Fleet Reilly of the 48th, Juline Hyland of the 53rd, Meadow Quinn of the 57th, and then their most recent and the youngest victor ever - Finnick Odair of the 65th. All 7 of our remaining living victors filed out onto the stage as their name was announced to the applause of the crowd, Finnick’s entrance even produced a few screams among those gathered.
While Finnick was certainly attractive, I felt there were a lot more important things to be worrying about than a boy with a beautiful smile and felt an atypical flash of irritation wash over me. It fled me just as quickly because the district 4 escort Bauble Silvius was approaching the microphone, looking as ridiculous as ever in a fish themed outfit. There were even little tiny fish shaped clips placed throughout her blue wig to make it look as though they were jumping out of water.
“Happy, Happy Hunger Games! What an honor it is to be your escort once again this year!” Due to her overwhelming excitement, her voice was about 2 octaves too high and came through the speakers placed around the square at a shriek compared to the Mayor’s even steady tone throughout his mandatory monologue.
The ear piercing pitch made it hard to follow what she said immediately after but I am able to hear when she says,” Now for the reason we are all here! Our tributes! As is typical, our leading lady will be drawn first!” She tottered for a moment on her ridiculously high heels, that I could now see contained miniature aquariums within the heel portion, and then tiptoed over to the glass bowl containing all the eligible girls names.
Please, please not me.
If there was one good thing about Bauble’s excessive excitement it was that she was far too impatient to make a show of picking the slip like some escorts were prone to doing. Her long nailed hand was in and out of the bowl so fast all you saw was a flash of blue and then she was doing that strange tiptoe back to the microphone, folded paper in hand.
Please. Please.
Bauble’s sigh echoed through the microphone when she finally reached it, flashing a brilliant smile as she poised herself to open it. She took a deep breath, gave a dainty little “hem-hem” to clear her throat, and read the name out to the whole of Panem.
Plea-
“Morenna Kelwright!”
Well, at least I was right with that gut feeling.