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THE FEELING OF THE WAVE LIKE BLUE SKIRT AND OVERSIZED WHITE BLOUSE WERE SUFFOCATING TO ELEANOR EVES. Reaping day was always her least favourite day, a day that reminds each individual that they're circus entertainment for the Capitol. The eyes of the Capitol would hunt for the next innocent soul to watch fight to the death, just like they had done to Mags Flanagan, just like they did to Finnick. The vigorous routine of waking up at 6am, getting ready, and potentially preparing to see her loved ones die made her feel sick beyond measure. She nervously picked at her nails as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, making sure not a spot of dirt was on her face and that she looked somewhat presentable.
Her mother was still at the Cresta's, somewhat to the relief of the teenager who felt almost selfish for being grateful her mother was away from her. It had been a week since she saw her mother, the woman even acknowledging she couldn't keep doing this to her daughter and instead staying away.
The pang of guilt and stench of disgust was almost suffocating, both women choked, like the feeling of drowning in the sea.
Eleanor breathed in heavily, pushing a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear. She stared at her reflection, her nose flaring at the manifestation in front of her.
"Eleanor Eves," She breathed in, then out heavily. "It is the 67th Hunger Games Reaping ceremony, you are sixteen, you are fine." It was a tedious ritual she had, the affirmations constant in her life. But, regardless she had to do it.
When she was younger, little rituals helped her stay calm. Whether it be cleaning in a specific way so she got everything done, regardless they helped her. When she was twelve, she decided to copy her dad and make the ritual to remember who she was and regardless, the Capitol could try and take everything from her but she'd still be herself.
She'd still be Eleanor Eves, age sixteen, and today would always be the 67th Hunger Games.
Momentarily, Eleanor wondered what Finnick was feeling in these moments. Every reaping took a toll on him, though he pretended otherwise. He had been pretending for years, his flashy smile always waiting for a camera, even if the Capitol were miles away. Yet, those green eyes told secrets worth more than gold and rarer than diamond.
