The Divergent Games - A Crossover

Katniss - The Reaping - 2

Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be forever in your favor!

Dreams can be far worse than reality. Trust me, I would know. Some nights, I see flashes of people being stabbed to death or burned alive on a big screen as I am forced to watch. They could be people I know or people I don't. It doesn't matter; the effect is still the same. Other nights, I am the one being brutally murdered. When I wake up, I can still feel little pinpricks of pain against my skin that only remind me of what I saw.

This morning, It was especially bad. I had been sitting with Gale, and nobody else was around, which is strange because it was a mandatory viewing. The screen was big; the shine produced enough radiance to completely light up the surrounding square and district twelve streets. On it was footage of a small girl with blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. Her face was full of horror as she ran through a forest, tripping and stumbling over seemingly everything. Behind her, chasing her, was a boy; older than me. I can't seem to remember his face but he held a spear that he had cocked back and launched over his shoulder. It struck the girl in the back, tearing through her flesh. She had cried out and fell forwards. I started screaming, turning to look at Gale but he was gone, and I was alone in the square.

Upon opening my eyes I couldn't breathe. Prim! Oh my God! Prim! When I realized that I was in my own house, in my bed, I looked around and saw the blonde haired girl with blue eyes laying next to me. Her ugly cat glared up at me from his place at her feet. I dropped my head back onto my pillow and closed my eyes.

I couldn't fall back asleep, not that I really wanted to, so, about an hour later, I sat up and slid out of bed. I'm very experienced at being silent so it was easy to get out without waking my mother or sister up. I just needed fresh air.

It has been hours since I woke up. I'm sitting on our front porch in the chair that my father made when I was little. Thoughts of the upcoming Reaping ooze forward from the back of my mind. They creep up on me but I'm not surprised that they appear. It's today after all. At exactly two o'clock, the entirety of the district will appear in the town square to endure the selection. My stomach turns in circles just thinking about it.

The front door opens with a creek, and Prim steps onto the porch. She looks at me then at the ground and I notice her hands are shaking. Forgetting everything, I reach out and take them in mine, pulling her in front of me.

"What's wrong?"

"I had a bad dream," she says, eyes flitting around but not quite looking at me. I don't know whether or not I'm supposed to ask her about it, or leave it.

"I'm sorry, little duck." I don't know what else to say. I'm not going to tell her I had one too because I know she doesn't want to know that. Instead, I bring her close and lift her up so she's sitting in the chair with me. Then I wrap my arms around her shoulders and lean my head into hers. "Bad dreams are a part of life. They're hard to get used to."

"Yeah," she says, voice distant.

"How about you go grab your brush? I can do your hair." She likes her hair to be done. Prim smiles, jumping from her spot in the seat and reentering the house. A minute later, she's sitting on the ground in front of me, her brush already in my hand. I set it down so I can undo the two braids she didn't take out last night. My fingers fumble around in her hair, undoing the first braid, then the second. I'm careful not to tug too hard. Brushing through her hair isn't difficult, but it's not exactly light work. My arms begin to ache as I work through tangles and knots. Eventually I get through them all, there aren't that many to begin with, and brush through it until it is smooth. She should wash it, but we don't have enough water, so I put it into a singular braid. Patting her head when I am done. Instead of standing up like I expect her to, she leans back against my knees.