35th Annual Hunger Games

Prologue

35th Annual Hunger Games

Prologue

Lillian Haywood's POV

Waking up is a lot harder to do this morning than any other mornings in my life. It's reaping day. I'm 12, the youngest applicable age to be entered into the bowl. I've been terrified for my older siblings earlier years, agonized by watching the peppy lady pull out a piece of paper that could have their names written on it. Now that it's my turn, qualm rises in me and I'm petrified. I don't think I could even move a finger because I'm so paralyzed with fear.
When my older brother walks in, his face is full of deject. He's normally a stoic person, showing no emotion, but this time he is showing a lot. He is 19 now, and has no worries of getting reaped. Kids from ages 12-18 are the ones who have to worry. They're the ones who have their names written on the little slips. They're the ones who may be chosen. They're the ones who may die. And I am now apart of that group.
I'm going to have to stand in the section specific for those who are ages 12-18. My brother won't be standing there anymore, instead he'll be watching from the adult section.
My brother walks into my room sheepishly. He clears his throat and continuously opens his mouth to speak but closes it, speechless at what to say. I finally have enough strength to shake my head sideways meekly to let him know it's okay to not know the right words to say. Besides, nothing can comfort me right now.
My mother walks into the room and gives me a huge hug. "Are you ready?" She says with a depressed tone. You think I'm ready? I might be reaped! I will most likely die! You think I'm ready??!! I almost speak my mind, but instead I give a weak nod.

...

I'm standing there in a huge crowd full of kids my age and older. Shoulder to shoulder with people who are just as scared as I am.
Lena, the peppy escort, walks to the front of the stage with a wide smile, looking happy to pick names of people who could die.
"Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor! As usual, ladies first." We've already watched the short film on why we have a Hunger Games. I wasn't really listening since it's so boring and we watch it every year. To me, I believe the capital just sacrifices kids for amusement and the video won't change my mind.
Lena walks over to the girls bowl containing all the names of girls who are (like I said) ages 12-18. The little clicks of her tall heals creates an unease in my stomach. Every step she takes brings her closer to the bowl containing my name. I close my eyes, not wanting to watch her hand hang over the slips of paper.
Everyone is so silent that the opening of the slip is loud and clear in my ear. "Lillian-" she pauses for a second and I freeze. My name. "-Batilista." I relax with so much ease. I feel bad for the other 'Lillian' standing in the crowd, chosen for the 32nd annual Hunger Games. I'm so thankful my name is Lillian Haywood and not Lillian Batilista.
Everyone stares at the Lillian Batilista and she looks as if she is about to cry. I mean I probably would. She walks slow and steady in the path cleared for her. Before she makes it to the stage, she stops and sinks down to the ground. She starts sobbing and guards stand around her, yelling at her to get up. When she doesn't obey, they pick her up against her will and drop her onto the stage. She has red hair and dark brown eyes. She is very pale and has heavy bags under her eyes.
Lena smacks her lips together and looks as if she doesn't know what to do. She looks back behind her at the governor who nods, telling her to proceed. She turns to the crowd with a fake smile and picks from the boys' bowl. I zone out, lost in my thoughts that are freaking me out. I may have not been reaped this year, but I can the next 6 years. You're most likely to get reaped between the ages 15-18. At least that's how it is for us in district 10.
I shouldn't be cheering that I didn't get picked, because I may just get picked the next couple years, and I definitely won't be cheering when that happens.