𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 → 𝗁𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 ¹

𝑶𝟐. 𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍

     no.

     my heart seems to fall down to my heels and all the air in my lungs is chased away.

     i don't know how to breath anymore.

     the crowd rumbles behind me because it's a twelve years old girl who have been reaped ; and i, i can't believe it. i was not even worried for her, her name was signed up just once. i didn't have to worry for her.

     then, i see her, in her immaculately white dress, pale and her fists clenched, walking down to the stage. mom's silver necklace shine on her chest.

     i want to scream, but the hand of the boy next to me take my wrist. i wasn't even aware that i was ready to jump behind willow to take her far from all this madness.

     she climbs the few steps to our escort who waits for her, a big smile on her blue-painted lips. small and thin, cameras already show her as an easy prey. she'll never last into the pageant, not with six career tributes, certainly volunteers because in their district, being reaped is a great honor. not with twenty-three other kids.

     she will not make it.

     i'm incapable of any coherent thought, and finally, when willow is turned to the crowd, her gaze meet mine. her blue eyes are full of tears, but she fight with all her might to not cry. fausta hammond takes back her mic, tries to galvanize the people in front of her, but it's a twelve years old girl who have been reaped ; the population is overwhelmed. she asks for volunteers - children eligible of the same sex, ready to take the place of the one reaped. in our district as well as in the others outline ones, volunteers don't exist. willow can not be saved. and indeed, no hand raise in the air.

     willow stays up there on the stage, next to this capitol-born woman, in front of the mayor who doesn't care, in front of the surviving victors of the district. in sixty-five years, they have been three, and only two are still alive. willow will not be among them next year. willow is going to die in the arena.

     fausta hammond picks the name of the male tribute, reads it out loud. i don't ear who he is, i just know it's not me.

     without any control, even before the poor reaped boy come forward and joins my sister, my voice rises in the silenced crowd : i volunteer as tribute.

     i didn't think before speaking, and surprised looks turn to me. fausta seems to lost her words, and i step forward with big steps to the stage. this time, willow cries without holding herself back, she meets me in the middle of the stairs and fall right into my arms. i try to reassure her, but cameras are already on me. i don't let anything go through, because i know all the country is watching me. i only pet her head.

     what a twist ! says finally fausta with her high-pitched voice. we have a volunteer, and our male tribute ! what a sweet, sweet moment ! what's your name, boy ?

     she hands me her mic. from up close, her makeup seems even more disgraceful and silly. her cheerful look makes me want to puke.

     tristan terrace, i manage to say even with my sore throat.

     oh. my. god. says our escort with exaggeration. is she your little sister ?

     yes.

     fausta is overexcited now, even if the crowd of fifteen thousand of people stay quiet. she asks for cheers and applause for the two tributes of district seven for the sixty-fifth hunger games, but the people don't even react ; a way to show their disapprobation. i am known, in the seven, with school, the paper factory and the logging. people know it's only willow and i. they understand that i volunteered only to save her.

     so they protest in silence.

     then fausta hammond let the mayor speaks, and i don't move while my sister holds me tightly, her head in my chest. the mayor begins the tedious reading of the treaty of treason. i already think about what will follow, and my mind speeds up.

     because i need, at all costs, to find a way for willow to go back from this arena. even if it means i'm going to die to let her live.