¹THE HUNGER GAMES ▸ REPUGNANT

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙣𝙚 - 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜

AS THE SUN ROSE on the day of the Reaping, the sky was painted in hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the bustling district square. The air was filled with a sense of dread and unease as the citizens of District 11 gathered, their faces drawn and somber. 

The Reaping was today, the day when one male and one female from each 12 District's would be chosen to compete in the Hunger Games, a brutal fight to the death that aired on live television for the entertainment of the Capitol. 

I have always despised the Hunger Games, the thought of children being forced to fight to the death for the Capitol's entertainment made my stomach churn in disgust. Every tribute chosen was merely a pawn in the Capitol's twisted game, a sacrificial lamb for the amusement of the privileged citizens. 

I have always known that the odds of being chosen were slim, but the fear of the possibility had always loomed over me like a dark cloud. 

My little sister, Rue, has some sickness that no one, not even a doctor, can identify. I'm sure the Capitol's doctors could, but why would the Capitol care about some 7 year old sick little girl from District 11? It was just my 7 year old little sister, me, and my older brother. They were somewhere around here.

I don't know where they are since I went hunting earlier in the morning. I usually don't get up that early, but Reaping day always terrified me. 

Hunting is illegal, but if I had to choose between dropping dead from starvation or a bullet to the head, the bullet would be quicker. 

The two won't be worried about me, they know I usually go hunting early, especially during the Reaping. Attendance is mandatory, unless you are on death's door. It's too bad, really, that they hold the Reaping in the square – one of the few places in District 11 that can be pleasant.

The square's surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if there's good weather, it has a holiday feel to it. But today, despite the bright banners hanging on the building, there's an air of grimness. The camera crews, perched like buzzards on rooftops, only add to the effect. 

Seven- through 22-year-olds are herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, the young ones toward the back. The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. The square's quite large, but not enough to hold District 11's population. Some have to stand outside of the square. I find myself standing in a clump of eighteen year olds from the Seam. 

We all exchange terse nods then focus our attention on the temporary stage that is set up before the Justice Building. It holds three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. I stare at the paper slips in the girl's ball. One of them has Cassowary Barnette written on it in careful handwriting.

Just as the clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read. It's the same story every year. He tells the history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by 13 districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens.

Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.

 The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.