I wake to the sounds of myself screaming and Niall trying to hush me. The images of Niall, dead on the ground, and myself being stabbed multiple times in the throat and chest by a faceless tribute are only begining to fade. When I realize it was all only a nightmare, I collapse into sobs. Niall's arms are quickly around me, holding me close to him, his voice soft and comforting as he tries to reassure and relax me.
"It was so vivid," I say inbetween strangled cries, "So real..."
"But it wasn't real and you're right here with me and it's going to be all right." Niall murmurs, stroking my hair. I bury my face in his chest and just let myself cry. It didn't really hit home, that both me and Niall are going into the Games to fight to the death, and that I probably wouldn't come out alive. But the reality of it all just slammed into me, and now everything I've kept bottled up is finally spilling out.
"I don't want to go." I whimper, clutching at his shirt like it's the only thing that's keeping me out of the arena.
"I know... but we've just got to do our best and everything will turn out okay." Niall says carefully. He can't tell me that we aren't going to die, because we probably will. He can't tell me that the odds are in our favor, because they're not. Sure, we spend the days in the fields, building upper-body strength by cutting wheat and grain with scythes. That won't be much unless we're in face-to-face combat, which I'd like to avoid being in as much as possible. The best I can hope is to maybe get my hands on an axe or scythe so I can do what? Cut people in half? That reminds me of the second Quarter Quell, when the District Tweleve victor, Haymitch Abernathy, won by using the force field to send his attackers axe into her skull. The idea of it all is so gruesome, it sends me into racking sobs.
"What about the arena? What if we're in some kind of desert? Or frozen wasteland?" I ask, my voice sounding strangled. We may survive in the desert, since we're used to working long days in the sun without much water, but we'd never last in an artic arena.
"I don't know." Niall says honestly, "But we've just got to hope for the best. Sending us into one of those places wouldn't be much fun for the Gamemakers, would it?"
I think back to the time when the tributes were put in an icecap and all they could do was slowly freeze to death. Pretty boring to watch.
"I guess so." I mumble, wiping the tears from my cheeks. My crying has been reduced to animal whimpers, and before long the whimpers are reduced to silence. I close my eyes and let myself be comforted by Niall's soothing voice and his hands stroking my hair. A piece of me feels bad that I'm forcing him to comfort me when he's probably just as scared on the inside, but I'm too distraught to really care.
Our silent bond is interrupted by my stomach, which growls angerly after being ignored for almost twenty-four hours.
"Sounds like someone's hungry." Niall laughs. I giggle a little bit, but I curse my stomach for ruining this moment.
"Is it breakfast time?" I ask, sitting up and looking around for a clock.
"Yep! Day two!" Niall says cheerily, rolling himself out of bed and practically skipping to the door. As I laugh, I feel my stomach do a little twist, but I just try to ignore it. I push myself out of bed and follow him to the dining car, where a proper meal awaits us. My eyes widen a little. I didn't eat anything from the train yesterday, anything I tried to stomach I had brought to me by the silent maids, and I haven't seen this much food since... Well, never. I don't take too much, though, I'm afraid if I try to over-stuff myself I'll just lose it all.
I eat slowly and carefully while Niall just scarfs everything down like he's never going to eat again, which is how he has every meal. As I'm watching him down his juice, it occurs to me that if this haden't happened, we probably would have gotten married, maybe popped out a few kids. The thought makes my face flush, and that makes me angry. If I like Niall as anything more than a friend, than this whole thing will get about twenty million zillion times harder.
After breakfast, I went back to my room, alone, so I could shower. After figuring out how to turn it on and make it hot enough to calm my blazing nerves but not so hot where I was in danger of burning my skin off, I just stood there and let the water wash over me. It does have a calming effect on me and I almost fall asleep standing up a couple times; I guess I slept even worse than I had thought.
After a very thorough scrubbing, I turn off the shower and stand in the bathroom, staring at my naked body in the mirror. I can tell I've got a lot of upper-body strength from chopping up grain and lugging hundred pounds of wheat around, but that's about it. I pinch my biceps and wonder if that's going to be enough to fight off other tributes.
A fluttery knock on the bathroom door sends me scrambling for a bathrobe.
"It's Flaurina, dear," says that obnoxious, squeaky voice, "They're playing the reapings."
"I'll be out in a moment." I say, fumbling with the fluffy ties. I hear the clicking of Flaurina's stilletto heels as she dances back to the television. I drop the overly-fuzzy bathrobe and yank my pajamas back on before running out to the TV.
I burst into the car and flop over on the couch next to Niall right at the end of the District One reaping. Their tributes both look very built and smug. District Two and Four offer similar tributes. The rest of the reapings all go pretty much the same, a girl and a boy, mostly between the ages of fifteen and seventeen. They stand on the stage with their representitives, looking like they'd rather throw themselves off a cliff than be in this death sentance. The announcers all comment appropriatly on the "competition" this year, which makes me a little sick.
Then it gets to our district, and you can clearly see the pain, then determination in my face after my name is called. The announcers comment on the determination, and they make a sarcastic comment about me "having someone to fight for". But when Nialls' name is drawn, and it takes a good half minute for anyone to move, the announcers start to get curious. The camera switches to my face, and you can clearly see me become unstable. Then it switches back to Niall, and you can see him struggling to keep his composure. The announcers start guessing that maybe we aren't strangers, and then when it comes time for the tributes to shake hands, and Niall pulls me into that spine-crushing hug, and the announcers just go nuts. I look over at Niall, and he's got a pained expression on his face, like now he's regretting that move, but Flaurina twitters about how we could play this off and get sponsers.
The rest of the reapings play out accordingly, and it closes with the Panem anthem. Niall turns off the TV hurriedly and Flaurina scampers away to take care of "business". We sit in silence for a moment.
"Did I screw us over?" Niall asks finally.
"No, no, we can work this." I say, trying to keep positive. Niall looks at me, the same pained expression still on his face.
"No, I mean with the other tributes. They saw this and now they're going to see that there's something between us and..." He trails off and looks away, staring back at the blank TV. My heart flutters when he says 'something between us' but I push it away and try to stay focused on the issue at hand.
"Maybe," I say honestly, "But we're in this together now." I take his hand and he looks over at me. "Everyone's seen it and there's no going back."
Niall smiles sadly at me, then he gets up and almost runs back to his room leaving me on the couch, wishing more than anything that I could be back in District Nine.
YOU ARE READING
Sunflower Seeds
FanfictionIt's the year of the 62nd annual Hunger Games, and Tytania Lousse, better known as Ty, is absolutly dreading it. Her and her best friend, Niall Horan, have their names in that glass bowl too many times. But she's only got two more reapings, and this...
