"I'm going to get you out of there,"
Finnick's voice was firm, each word sharpened by perseverance.
"How?" the young girl challenged, her tone tinged with desperation.
"You're out here, and I'm trapped in there."
Finnick's eyes swept over her, his...
Andreia sat on the worn wooden stool, the lavender cushion beneath her bearing the marks of countless years of use. Her mother stood behind her, nimble fingers weaving Andreia's hair into an elegant updo. Each twist and pin was carefully secured with hairpins.
A tightness gripped Andreia's throat, echoing the knot that had formed in her stomach. Her knees bounced restlessly as her breath grew shallow and quick. Her mind raced with dark visions of the reaping, of her name being called, and the inevitable stares from classmates, neighbors, and teachers. The mere thought sent a wave of goosebumps rippling across her skin.
She caught her mother's reflection in the vanity mirror. A small, knowing smile curved her mother's lips as her thin, trembling hands gently gripped Andreia's upper arms. She placed a tender kiss on Andreia's temple, causing her eyes to flutter open.
"It's your third year, Andreia," her mother said softly, her voice laced with reassurance. "You have little chance of being chosen compared to the many eighteen-year-olds."
The young girl sighed deeply, nodding in acknowledgment. "I know, Mamma. I just can't shake this feeling. But thank you—my hair looks lovely."
Her mother smiled, reaching for something that glinted in the light. Andreia frowned, studying herself cautiously in the vanity. Her mother moved two hairpins into view, each topped with a real pearl—another of her father's secret gifts.
Andreia's reflection softened into a smile. "No lilies this time?" she asked, her grin widening. Her mother kissed her temple again before gently placing the delicate pins in her hair, tokens of love secretly smuggled home by her father, adding a touch of distinction.
"Now you look like a young lady," her mother said, stepping back to admire her handiwork.
Andreia stood, smoothing down the plain white dress with light ruffles scattered around, "I should change into my reaping clothes," she murmured. Her mother nodded, gesturing toward the door. "Go ahead, dear. I'll check on your brother."
Andreia retreated to her room, the tightness in her chest intensifying as she dressed for the reaping. The maroon dress felt foreign against her skin, and her hands trembled as she fastened the buttons. As she finished, her gaze fell on a necklace lying on the dresser—a delicate pendant shaped like a lily of the valley flower, a gift from her grandmother. She placed it around her neck, drawing a small measure of comfort from its presence.
