𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.Cato Hadley

2.

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𝐃𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.
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"Layla Hawthorne."

The name echoed in my mind. Everything is quiet, so quiet, no one dares to move even an inch, myself included. I can't believe what I heard.

"Where are you, sweetie?" Effie asks but I don't pay much attention to her.

Is this real? Is this just another nightmare? Where is Layla?

My breath comes in short, painful gasps, just like when I learned my parents were dead. This can't be happening again. I can't lose her too, the only person left in my life. My mind spirals, refusing to accept the reality.

I keep telling myself it's a dream until I see the girls parting to let Layla through. She looks terrified, her face a mask of shock. Instinct takes over, and I push my way through the crowd, not caring who I shove aside. The peacekeepers grab her, leading her to the platform. I break through to the open space.

"Layla!" I shout. She turns, her eyes locking onto mine, filled with fear. I run toward her, but peacekeepers catch me.

"No, no!" I try to get away from them but they hold me very tight. And that's the last thing I remember well before the words slip off my tongue.

"I volunteer! I volunteer!" Hearing this, the peacekeepers let me go and I push them away. "I volunteer as tribute," I repeat and everything goes quiet again.

I can feel all eyes on me, but I don't care. All I care about right now is that they let Layla go and don't take her to the Capitol.

"I believe we have a volunteer!" Effie Trinket says and I can tell by her tone that she is also shocked like the rest of the people. My heart pounds, adrenaline coursing through me. The reality of what I have done begins to sink in, but I still don't care.

I manage to reach Layla and the first thing I do is to hug her. I try to talk to her as fast as I can because I know I have to get on the platform.

"You need to get out of here!"

"No!" She with tears in her eyes.

"Go find Gale!" I say as I brush the tears away from her cheeks.

"No!"

"Find him!"

"No!" She screams at me but suddenly someone picks her up with his arms and I immediately recognize that it is her brother. He thanks me very quietly, just enough for me to hear, and leads her out of the way. Layla continues to scream in his arms, but as he moves away from me, the screams become quieter.

The peacekeepers escort me to the platform and now I'm beginning to realize what I've done. I signed my death warrant. My worst fear has become a reality. But just because I wanted it to happen myself, I would never have thought that I would volunteer to participate in the Games.

"District 12's very first volunteer. Come on up. Come on, sweetie." Effie Trinket says and I walk up onto the stage. She grabs my shoulders and leads me to the microphone. "What's your name?"

"Melanie Clark," I say, unable to believe I'm here.

"Is she your friend?"

"Yes. She's my best friend." Still, without any emotion.

"Let's have a big hand for our very first volunteer, Melanie Clark." Effie starts clapping, but the crowd remains silent. Instead, they press the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and extend them toward me. It's an old gesture in District 12, used to show thanks, respect, or to say goodbye. In my case, it's clearly a farewell.