Defenders of Panem (Being Rewritten)

Chapter 2

I wake up from the early morning sun shining through the windows. I attempt to open my eyes, and end up blinded for a moment. I hate where my bed sits in this compacted room. I am always up early from the sun's rays breaking through the curtains and hitting my face. Now I am always up earlier, even when the sun isn't shining. I let out a soft groan and get up to look out the grimy window.

As much as I hate the window, I can't help but admire the view it gives me. Sandy dunes, a cloudy blue morning sky, and the endless ocean beyond. Beautiful. Turning around I look at my sister Grace, with her long limbs tangled within the sheets and sleeping soundly. She doesn't have to worry about waking early as she got the better bed. Of course, she is the eldest, but I still can't stop the feeling of envy. What I wouldn't give to have one morning to sleep in.

I do find it odd how she lays this morning. She isn't typically a restless sleeper, but rather like a piece of driftwood that has been washed up onto shore. Unmoving, waking up in the same position she fell asleep. I think over the past few weeks, and realize we are now a few days into July. I know why her sleep becomes restless, not out of concern for herself, but for me.

Grace is 19 whereas I'm only 16. She is worried about tomorrow. Tomorrow is The Reaping. I continue watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, face relaxed showing a comfortable sleep. There is no need to wake her up yet. She still has a few hours until she is expected in town for work.

I tiptoe over to the closet and get my clothing for the day: a hand-me-down purple swimsuit with a plain shirt and denim shorts. I don't bother trying to dust the sand off, more will be attached to me soon anyway. As beautiful as District Four is, the sand is everywhere, similar to District 12 with coal dust. Sands is in our beds, hair, water, and has become a permanent texture on the walls and floors. You do get used to it, especially those who haven't known anything else. Me? I've been here my whole life, so the sand has become a part of myself.

After I change, I quietly slip from the room into a dark hallway. I see the door to my parent's bedroom is cracked and I peek inside. My mom is still fast asleep, clutching my dad's pillow to her chest. He's already gone and left for work. I rarely wake early enough to say goodbye.