The Midnight Sun - Finnick Odair

iii.

I looked out to the factories that loomed over the district. The factories I had visited many times with my father, the factories I had grown accustomed to, and called my home. I had a great view of the district from my view on the stage, in front of all the citizens of 8. Eda Honeywood, District 8's escort, stood centre stage, going through protocol – the usual. On my immediate right stood Cecelia, a 30 year old woman, like Paylor, that won the games when she was only 16, though me, being only 4 years old at the time, knew very little about her. I had always been the District 8 female mentor since I won 3 years ago, so me and her had had minimal interaction. All I knew was that she lived alone with her three young kids in the Village, no immediate family in the district.

On the other side, to Eda's right, stood Malachai Justiss, a 23 year old victor that won the 69th games at the age of 17. A nice enough guy that I occasionally came across in the square, or sitting on his porch in the Village, where he lived with his family, but we never talked for more than 10 minutes – we were mere acquaintances. Selfishly, I prayed that he would be reaped, rather than Woof, an old frail man in his 70's, that I was sure had mental issues by now. It would be wrong for a man of his age to die in such a way, though equally as horrific for a young man with his whole life ahead of him to die so horrendously, so I retracted my wish.

Eda's sky blue hair looked so...ghastly, and her pale blue tinted face made her look like a ghost, or rather, in this case, the grim reaper. However, ghastly as she looked, I had grown fond of her during my travels as a mentor, and her face was a familiar one.

"As always...ladies first." She turns, reluctantly walking over to the clear bowl that held only two names in it. Her gloved hand reached into the bowl, and she looked straight ahead as she pulled out a name, unwillingly. This was it. I looked ahead into the crowd. To my mother, who stood with a stony expression on her face, but each of her hands resting on the twins' shoulders protectively. My gaze lowered to the two little girls that meant the world to me, who were looking up, wide eyed, mesmerised by the whole procedure. On catching eye contact, they both smiled the widest smiles, not knowing their older sister was being handed a death sentence. I cracked the tiniest smile at them, a single teardrop running down my cheek.

"The female tribute from District 8," she opens the piece of paper. "Cecelia Pyle." I sigh lightly, my hands shaking, but relief washes over me like a cool wave on a scorching day. Cecelia's three children hysterically run onto the stage, clutching onto their mother's skirt, they know what this means – there's a slim chance of her coming home. Cecelia's hands are trembling, more than mine, as she struggles to contain her three children, grasping onto each one in turn for the last time. Her stoic exterior about to break, as the district watches on in a hushed silence. As I look at her children, I glance back at Ailey and Blue, and my mother. Those girls were my world, but, these were Cecelia's actual children. The ones she bore for 9 strenuous months, the ones she cared for alone. Those kids will have nothing left if Cecelia leaves, and that's a life no child should have to live, so I make a spontaneous decision I'm sure to regret.

"I volunteer." I stepped forward, my voice loud and clear, as Cecelia's head whipped round to me, eyes wide in shock. Her children too turned, hysteria over, and they fall silent as lambs, staring up at me with red puffy eyes, which hold hope. "I volunteer as tribute." I repeated, my choice made. I didn't dare look back at my family.

Eda's arm reached out for me, and I followed silently, taking my place beside her.

"Our tribute for District 8, Alaska Truehart." Silence. Deadly silence from the crowd.

"Onto the men." She walked over to the bowl, fishing around, and pulling out a slip of paper. Unfolding it, she reads, "Malachai Justiss." I glanced over slowly, but saw no shock, no sorrow in his eyes as he walked over to Eda's welcoming arms. He was ready, and no one expected Woof to volunteer for Malachai.

"There we are. Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes, Alaska Truehart and Malachai Justiss." No one applauded. No one made a sound.

What emerged from the crowd was a three finger salute from an unknown civilian. And another. And another, until the whole of District 8 was a sea of salutes. My mother, who I thought was dead inside, standing at the front, arm out in the air, proud. Me and Malachai stood staring out, and repeated the gesture, standing until the doors behind us busted opened and peacekeepers swarmed in, dragging us by the forearms.

"Wait, wait, I can't get to say goodbye?" I asked, panic clear in my voice. "New procedure, straight to the train." One of them replies, dragging me off the stage. "No I need to say goodbye!" Ailey's hand is reaching out for me, and Blue's follows. "Goodbye!" I scream, unsure if they can hear in between all the scuffling. Before the doors close, I get one last look at my mother, and the slight nod she gives me, before the doors shut my view of them for good.