The Ultimate Sacrifice (The 107th Hunger Games) [Fan Fiction]

2. The Tributes of District One

2. The Tributes of District One

It was evident my emotions were high last night, because the dream I had was mainly a nightmare reflecting my fear about my mother. It was so vivid that I almost thought it was real. Thank God it hadn't been.

I had been in the Victor's Village, having won the Hunger Games. Or so I thought. The Games were still going on. I sat in an almost empty room except for two things: a torn couch and a small TV with fuzzy reception. I sat on the floor, ignoring the couch; it looked too disgusting to sit on.

On TV was my mother, and she was in a downward spiral. At least three empty wine bottles had surrounded her and she was working on her fourth. She had wailed so loudly that my insides had gone cold. It was obvious as to what was causing her despair: me.

I had pressed myself to the TV, screaming as if I could try and talk to her through the TV. I tried to tell her that I was okay, that she needed to stop her drinking. No matter how much I yelled, I could never get through to my mother. She continued drinking the wine she probably made, glass by glass, mumbling incoherent things and crying so much. Nobody could reach her.

The dream bothered me so much that I had to force myself awake.

Waking myself up and falling back asleep hadn't made my night any better. There were no dreams, all I saw was black. Black scared me. There was no scenery, no noise, no smells, nothing. In addition to the nightmare, I woke up two more times that night.

To make me even more alive during that night, ever since Mom's behavior last night, I reconsidered wanting to be in the Games. I didn't want to lose my mother. I knew I only had two more chances to get into the Games if I didn't get in this year. But when it came to losing my dream or losing my mother, I could sacrifice the dream. I couldn't lose Mom, she was too important to me. Still, the idea of giving up the dream annoyed me. Really, I didn't know what to do, because I certainly couldn't keep both my mother and my dream.

No matter what I'd choose, I'd give up the other one.

"Time to get up, Crystal," Dad whispered. I felt him nudging my shoulder. I groaned and hugged the pillow tighter. He flipped my blinds up on me, blinding my closed eyelids with sunlight. I made a noise of irritation again and threw the pillow over my head. "You have to be in the town square soon. The reaping is early for us."

Right, because the reaping was always early. We were the first district, so our reaping always happened in the morning.

I heard Dad clomp out of my bedroom. I snorted and pulled my droopy eyes open. I wiggled my legs out of my tangled, starry bed sheets. I was sure part of the reason why I felt so groggy was because of my tossing and turning. Today is going to be such a cheery day, I thought sarcastically.

It took me some time, but eventually I stretched and lugged myself into the bathroom to see the damage the dreams did to me. My hair looked perfectly fine, I rarely got bed head. My ice-blue eyes looked slightly bloodshot; I saw slight purpling under my eyes. Lovely, just what I needed.

I managed to dig out a nice outfit and shower. It was a simple, white sundress that I put myself into. For the reaping, it was like attending a religious gathering. You had to look your best. The shower had refreshed me, but it couldn't erase the damage a sleepless night had inflicted on me. Hopefully my hair dried quickly enough so Mom could do something with it. I figured if she got to mess with my hair, it might help her a little bit, but I was very doubtful about it.

Tiredly, I brought myself into the kitchen where Dad was getting coffee. Mom sat at the table, eating mechanically. She looked just as tired as I did, though she had been drinking a lot last night. I suffered from bad dreams and lack of sleep. Out of the two of us, my mother definitely had it worse.