The 250th Hunger Games.

Chapter 2.

Faster. I plod on despite the constant shooting pains tracing its long, cold claws down my left leg. I tactically round the corner to my right, avoiding it's gaze and wearily risk a glance at my now useless limb. I grimace. Time is closing in on me, reducing my chance to escape as it catches up with me. There's only one chance of hope left. Quicker. I latch my hands onto my grass green backpack and reach into it. Yes! I can feel it. But before it can reach my vision, my worst nightmare captures me. The next thing I know i'm lying sideways on the floor, my backpack gone and a featureless figure staring me down.

Then i'm gone.

I wake up, breathing heavily and the whole of my body soaking wet; as though someone had thrown a large bucket of freezing cold water over me whilst I restlessly slept. My bed covers contort around me, creating a heavy essence of trying to squirm away from whatever was stalking me in my dream. Or should I more accurately say, nightmare.

Reality shakes me as I spot my familiar reaping clothes folded neatly on a handcrafted stool on the left side of the room, reminding me that i'm about to dress up for the imminent death of two children. But not before I wash, however. I must look impeccably clean for this pristine event- the look of poverty is never acceptable; tin ribs must be hidden, wounds must be covered and a neutral mask must be placed over our grief-stricken faces. I'm striding across the landing towards the bathroom when I notice my elder brother sound asleep in his bedroom which is directly across from mine. This was very useful when I was a child, but not so much nowadays.

I was 9 years of age when the storm hit. A disastrous wind shook the house from left to right, rocking it as as though we were on a boat in the middle of a waterspout. I legged it straight to Kevin's room as soon as I had been woken up that hot July morning, where he comforted me, cradled me in his arms and told me that it was all going to be okay. I believed him as we were riding out the storm, but once the hurricane moved on and we cautiously walked downstairs hand in hand, I promptly understood that the next few years would be a struggle. Our only form of a living had been dug up by the harsh winds and the soil was unrecoverable. The crops were gone and so were our futures.

Kevin's childhood consequently ended after that. Having to work and earn some keep for the family at 12 years of age made him grow up before his time and he aged quickly. More than ever the age gap between us created space and a bigger age gap than the eye can perceive.

I catch myself staring and shake my head clear of the memories. They were gone, time to move forwards. I twist the handle and enter the bathroom, continuing on to lie the elegant fabric onto the cabinet top. I admire the navy blue lace dress and persist to handle the felt neck collar with my finger tips. It was by far the most expensive dress I own and most likely the most expensive dress i'll ever own. Paired with the colour coordinated flats I had managed to scrape clean yesterday morning it was a beautiful outfit to wear- if only it wasn't for such a dismal occasion. It would be perfect for a wedding, however; the occasion transforms it into a funeral ensemble. I grab a brush from the side of the cream sink and start to tear out the knots from my red hair. A lot of people have commented on how my name and hair go hand in hand, Ember; a spark to a flame. As that may be, I don't feel as though i'm one to start an inferno.

Once i'm finished cleaning myself up, I slip out of the bathroom and head down the staircase. As soon as I hit the floor, a tantalizing smell enthralls me and my grumbling stomach calls out in protest and I realize that i'm starving in spite of the on-going butterflies doing summer-salts in my tummy. I enthusiastically head over to the dining table where 4 glass bowls of porridge filled with an array of berries await me. I plonk myself down in my usual place and swipe the nearest bowl and greedily start munching. My mother and father soon after makes an entrance, an overly happy one at that, considering the day.

"Hello darling, how'd you sleep?" My mother inquires as she makes for the seat next to me with my father pursuing her.

Oh so wonderfully! I think to myself. I only had one nightmare, can you believe my luck?! She must know that the night before the reaping is hardly an exceptional one. Nonetheless It was kind of her to ask in the hope I had a good sleep this time round, however; I could do without the reminder.

"Better than last time, thanks." I offer a smile to cancel out my bitter thoughts.

I their faces drop in union as they recall before quickly resuming their smiles. Well, the closest thing to a smile on a day like this. Last year, I apparently screamed all night long for them not to take me. By 'them' i'm guessing I was shouting about the peacekeepers, however; maybe I had dreamt the same thing as I had last night. Before I can continue my train of thought, my father interrupts by offering to leave now, so not to be late. I reluctantly agree.

We all stand up and regard one another, remembering each others faces as this well may be the last time we're all together. Well, me and my parents anyhow. Kevin still hasn't bothered to make an appearance. As though he read my thoughts, my parents and I simultaneously look up at the ceiling as a loud thump sounded from my brothers room. He joins us at the front door after rushing down the stairs, condolence on his face for being late. I can't help but grin at the fact that he's coming with us and shun myself for ever believing that he would actually sleep through and ignore the fact that I could possibly be sent to my death. Silly me, I conclude. Silly me indeed.

Hiya guys! I would just like to thank you for reading and I pinky promise more chapters will be published soon with some exciting plot twists on the horizon. I hope you've enjoyed what you've read so far and please let me know if there's any improvements to be made- every critique is a useful critique! Bye for now. (: