The First Reaping. (Hunger Games One-Shot.)

A/n: So, my current obsession is The Hunger Games. I've had this idea mulling around in my head for a while, so I thought, why not? The writing style is slightly different, in that it isn't as descriptive as I usually am, but that is because I wished for it to be written very much like Suzanne Collins wrote the original trilogy. Please let me know what you think. :)

The First Reaping.

Do you feel that?

Can you hear it?

The soft, innocent sound of breathing as your chest rises and falls. It's the sound of your body, functioning as nature intended it to.

It's the sound of life.

Before all of this, I never realized just how valuable life really is. It can be taken in an instant, like my Father. Or, like many others, it can be drawn out; torturous, slow and very, very painful.

That kind of death is what could await any of the members of District Twelve. The ones I have grown up with, befriended, or even feuded with. I didn't wish it on any of them, not even the people I have grown to hate.

Because now, for the first time in all my twelve years of life, I was one of them. One of those at risk of dying that dreadful, unspeakable death; all on live television. I was at risk, just as the rest were.

My name is Katniss Everdeen, and today is the day that all people, parents and children alike, dread more than anything; my first reaping.

****

There was an atmosphere in the air, one that could only belong to that of the Hunger Games. Fear, dread, and from some - the members of the Capitol, of course - excitement.

My Mother, for the first time in months, seemed to actually care for me, today. As much as I had told myself she couldn't help it, that the death of my Father had become too much, I couldn't help but resent her.

I was just a twelve year old girl. A few months ago, I was close to starving. It was a close call; I was out every day, trying to get any food I could, to feed my small, dying family. Everything I did, I did it for Prim, my nine year old sister. She was the only thing that kept me going, allowed me to feed us enough to survive until May; the day I could sign up for tesserae.

Tesserae. Just the thought of that word made my shaky fingers tremble even more, as I attempted to do up the small, blue outfit my Mother had brought especially me for the Reaping. 

That word meant so many things. It meant food. It meant life, and survival. And of course, the literal meaning was simple; a year supply of oil and grain, barely enough to feed us. It was meager, but worth it. But, it also meant other things. It meant more chance of being reaped, more chance of being lead to a slow and painful death.

But it had to be done. I couldn’t let my family starve, and ever since the mine accident that claimed my Father’s life, I had been their sole survivor.

As my Mother announced it was finally time to leave, I came back to the present. Looking around me at the small yet homely kitchen I knew so well, I briefly wondered if this was the last time I would see my home. The likelihood of me getting picked may be slimmer than most, but I--unlike many other families with twelve year olds--had been given no choice but to take out Tesserae, meaning that my name was in there more times than most.

At least it wasn’t as bad as Gale.

Gale. My heart gave an irregular beat at the thought, the butterflies in my stomach going crazy. The boy that, despite only have known him for a few months, I depended on more than anything.