ODDS

death penalty

I felt my heartbeat in my throat, the adrenaline only just contained within my veins. The air, normally vibrant with the sounds of music and the smell of freshly prepared seafood, was dull. It was like I was being crushed under the weight of the heavy atmosphere.

It was pressure. It was fear.

It was expected.

When in Panem, this was something that just was. This feeling was a birthright.
And these thoughts swirled around my head as I stood just in front of my front door.

I exhaled.

"Alright?" Morgan's voice rang through the stale air as his hand clasped onto my shoulder. It grounded me, and the adrenaline was released, at least momentarily.

I quickly nodded my head, not quite meeting my brother's eyes. If I did, he'd know it was a lie, and that I was anything but okay. He had to have known already, but if he did, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he pulled me into his arms. For a moment, I felt safe.

The siren went off in the distance, and a sick feeling pooled in the pit of my stomach, at the base of my throat. I felt my skin become clammy and sweaty against the cool air. I focused on my breathing to keep the bile from rising up my throat.

The door opened, Calypso and Caspian filing out into the bitter and unfair world. Morgan started to follow, but turned back to face me when I didn't move. He nudged his head gently.

"You coming?"

I took a breath, then exhaled slowly.

"Yeah." My voice was small and weak. I cleared my throat, nodding and putting on a braver face than before. "Yeah. I'm ready."

He took my hand in his, flashing me a
comforting smile.

"Come on, slowpokes." Calypso teased, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm not dragging you this year. I won't do it."

Caspian let a chuckle escape his lips.

I played with the hem of my dress, following Morgan as he shut the door firmly behind us. I felt my heart suddenly drop, something was going to happen. It was the Reaping after all, and the unluckiest day of the year.

We started down the road, and traipsed into the arms of death.

Despite the entire district being out of their homes and in the square towards the center of town, it was quiet except for the breeze, the waves crashing against the shores in the distance, and the almost uniformed pounding of footsteps against the pavement.

It was sounds like this, sounds so eerie and familiar, that made my teeth chatter. It was sounds like this that kept me up at night. I felt like a child again, sweating against the sheets on my bed after waking from the worst of nightmares. Only, my parents wouldn't run in and insist that it was a dream. My mother wouldn't stroke my hair and whisper that everything would be alright. My father wouldn't check under my bed just to be sure that no monster would find me. Even if they were alive, there would be nothing they could do to save me from such a nightmare.

So I just listened to the slaps against the pavement. I tightened my hands into fists and let my nails cut into my skin. I swallowed thickly, and I moved on. It was the only way to exit the nightmare.

It wasn't long before I had to split from my family. Morgan had squeezed my hand one last time and Calypso had quickly kissed my temple. Then they took their place in the nightmare.

Caspian and I walked side by side, signed in, and separated into our proper groups. He'd flashed me a small smile, probably hoping that it wouldn't be his last.

"Welcome to the Reaping of the 67th annual Hunger Games!" An incredibly tall, annoyingly bright woman took the stage. Freya Rothchild had been District Four's escort for as long as I could remember. All throughout my childhood, she had been a laughing stock amongst the residents of District Four, and many times, was the inspiration behind many of Calypso's incredibly funny, and rude, interpretations of Capitol citizens.

Her presence brought an extra sense of panic to the crowd, and I felt the girls around me shift uncomfortably. But this was nothing compared to the effect President Snow's voiceover had. I felt my insides shake and turn to putty, felt the buzz just outside of my ears. A splitting headache caused me to wince.

"Now, now!" Freya grinned, her ultra-blue lips making her look ghostly place. "It's time to select our male and female tributes for this year's Games!"

She trotted over to the large, glass bowl full of names, careful not to trip over her stiletto heels. Five of those papers possessed a delicate handwriting, spelling out the letters of my name. Five death sentences. Five awful, terrible chances at leaving my world behind.

I thought back to earlier in the morning, when my heart had felt so heavy, had dropped straight into the pit of my stomach. That feeling had returned, creating a bubbling rumble of anxiety that riddled my nerves and muscles.

Freya's hand delicately dipped into the bowl. It was poetic, in a way, how something so small, beautiful, and innocent had the ability to cause such destruction.

Her heels clicked against the makeshift stage, echoing across the District.

Everyone's breath hitched. No one moved a muscle. Not a sound could be heard.

Freya cleared her throat, opened the thin slip of paper, and looked out into the crowd. And-

"Alana Knight."

I was stuck in limbo, in a parallel universe where my mind wandered and my thoughts ran wild through the chaos. Eyes stared at me, I stared back. Shock painted their faces, but relief quickly took over. Whose wouldn't? They were spared another year.

Another year. It was something I wouldn't get to claim, something taken.
My ears rung and my skin tingled. It didn't feel real. It couldn't have been. At any moment, I would wake up screaming, and my mother and father would run into my bedroom to save me from the fear. They would bring me back into reality and all would be fine.

And it happened. I returned to reality.
But my mother and father weren't there.
And neither were Morgan and Calypso and Caspian.

The only thing before me was the sea of faces that I half-recognized. This wasn't a parallel universe, and it wasn't a nightmare. This was real.

Alana Knight. That was my name. It echoed against the buildings, against the pavement, against the deep blue sky.
I was nudged forward.

And just like that- my death penalty was signed before all of Panem.