𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐈𝐄 ୨୧ f. odair

001. the reaping

❛ 001. the reaping ❜

🫧* 。 • ˚ 𖣠 𓏲 ʚɞ

JUNIPER SPARKS stared at the clock on the wall.
tick. tock.
tick. tock.
Soon, it would be time to get to one of Panem's most notorious days: the Reaping Ceremony.

Life at District 4 wasn't bad. Considering. But she didn't feel as prepared as she should've been.

She needs to win.

And if she gets chosen, she's going to win.

She'll win for herself, her little sister Genevieve, and her father.

No one else.

She didn't understand the point of the games quite yet, and she never understood why the groups of 24 people didn't just stop playing. Human nature was a funny thing. She didn't know if she believed that humans without rules would start a life of crime — there wouldn't be a need to. But some part of her might've had the urge.

She was unsure about her dress. Unsure if the dark blue gown matched her. Her father picked it out, promising her that it would be a nice pick in case she was going to be blasted over national TV.

"Remember sweetheart, if anything happens," her father, Hudson Sparks started.

"You'll be right there with me," she finished the sentence, managing a small smile.

🫧* 。 • ˚ 𖣠    𓏲   ʚɞ

              SHE HATED the opening ceremony more than the actual reaping part of the day. Hearing the posh "capitolesque" accent, (that's what Finnick used to call it) made her want to rip her hair out, cry, and throw her spear at something, or someone. She longed for the days after the ceremony, days when she could watch the games from the comfort of her own home, on the couch, playing with baby Genevieve, while hoping her friends from her district could make it. She didn't want to be associated with them.

Them. The Capitol, the fallen, the Victors. Him.

She didn't want to be associated with Finnick Odair.

If becoming a victor meant having to be like him, she didn't want it. She'd rather die than have to do anything next to him.

The ravenette had come to terms with hating his golden curls and his cheshire-cat-like smile. His green eyes. She hated it. She hated him. And he didn't do anything.

The arena changed that boy. And she physically couldn't love him anymore.

It didn't matter if he was her childhood best friend, and she really needed someone to calm her fears down. And it certainly didn't matter that he should be the doing it. That he was the only one capable of calming her storm.

Juniper missed the rare belly laughs, and she missed humming to sleep when he couldn't — but that's over know.

He's a stranger. And it should stay that way.

The woman, named Millicent Tewksbury started announcing the female tribute for the 67th annual Hunger Games.

"Ladies first!" her funny voice called out and she reaches into the glass ball full of girls' names. Her expression showed that didn't seem to care that she was picking out a name for a murder bowl. Because that's what it was. A murder bowl.