Chapter Text
I wake up to my mothers screams from another nightmare. They both try to hide the hell that they were put through, knowing that someday I might have to face it myself. I don’t show them that everyday their screams wake me up, because that will just worry them. They don’t need any more problems. I get up, and stretch in silence. I look at the clock on my nightstand. The arms read three am, which isn’t bad given the reaping is today. I pull my hair back in my mother’s signature braid, and look in the mirror, trying to figure out how I got stuck as the daughter of the “star-crossed lovers,” Katniss and Peeta Mellark.
I have my fathers eyes, as well as his knack for baking and ease with words. I have my mother’s dark skin and hair, and her hunting and survival skills as well. They also say I have her stubbornness, whatever that means. I walk downstairs, and, as quietly as possible, begin to make bread. I already have the starter that I made last night out, so it will probably take me an hour or so to put it in the oven, so I get to work. Thirty minutes later, my dad walks downstairs, looking exausted. I quietly hid behind our icebox, just in case he didn’t want to be disturbed. He turned and saw the bread on the counter, and gave a hint of a smile.
“Rose, I don’t know why you always hide. You know that I’m not going back to sleep.”
I step out into the light, sheepishly.
“Well, I don’t know if you’ll freak out or something. I just like to bake sue me.”
“You know the reaping is today, right?”
“Yes dad, I know the reaping is today.”
“Well, then you should probably get some rest.”, another voice interjects
Both me and my father look up from the bread to see my mother on the stairs. We spend a lot of mornings like this. My father and I are unable to sleep because of her screams, and she is unable to sleep because of her nightmares. She sits down on the barstool near the counter, and skeptically watches me and my father.
“What?” I ask.
“What are you making this morning?”
“We’re making cheese buns.” I reply to her.
Me and my father both know the best way to make sure that my mother doesn’t freak out on reaping days is to pamper her and try to make her forget. So, that means cheese buns and lamb stew for dinner, specially made by Effie’s order on the train. My mom hates going to the Capitol, and it really shows. I also am lucky, and get to go every year, usually with one of my friends, to watch them die and to entertain the people of the Capitol. I’m sixteen this year, and that means three more reapings. I’m not too nervous, because well, I only have my name in five times. My mother won’t let me take out tessarae, because well, double victor’s earnings you know? I put the cheese buns in the oven, and walk towards the front door. I put on my boots and a light jacket. It may be summer season, but it’s still pretty chilly for five in the morning. I turn around and call out to my parents.
“I’m going to Pop’s house to wake him up.”
“Okay, just make sure to position yourself in a way where you won’t get hit by the knife.” My dad calls.
I roll my eyes. I’ve woken him up everyday since I was thirteen. I know what I’m doing. I shut the door, and quietly walked towards the only other occupied house in the Victor’s Village. The door, as per usual, is unlocked, so I open the door. I walk to the table first, to find no one there, except a few empty liquor bottles. It’s not surprising, so I go towards the couch, where I see my Pops, passed out. I go to the sink, and fill a clean(ish) glass I found to the brim with water. My mom says this is the most effective way to wake him up, so I throw water on him. He wakes up thrashing.
“WHAT?! Who in the hell just did that?”
I was hiding behind a wall, just in case he tried to attack me with his knife, which I still can’t seem to pry from his hand prior to throwing water on him. I walk into view, and cross my arms.
“I did Pops. Time to get up.”
“Mari? What are you doing here?”
“Same thing as always. It’s time for breakfast, and today’s the reaping day. Me and Dad need as much help as possible to make sure Mom doesn’t have a mental breakdown.”
“Okay, Okay, I’m up, I’m going.”
I sit downstairs, waiting for him to take a shower, and just sit down and really think about the absurdity of it all. Of course, I won’t say anything out loud, but it sure would be nice to not have to worry about being reaped. It’s difficult knowing that my friend could be reaped, but even worse, that as a child of two victors, I probably have the highest chance. It’s been a miracle that I haven’t been reaped yet. Pops walks downstairs, with slightly cleaner clothes and his signature bottle of whiskey. I help him into his boots, and we walk to my house, which coincidentally only has the light in the kitchen on. My parent’s haven’t moved. This isn’t a good sign for me. I look at my Pops, and then head inside to see what trouble I somehow managed to get myself into by not being in surveillance of my parents.
My mother is pacing the floor, with a cheese bun in hand. I didn’t realize that I had been gone for over an hour and a half, because usually it doesn’t take that long to wake Pops up. My mom finally sees me and looks overwhelmed. She rushes to my side and pulls me into a hug. I hug her back, and look up. She looks so tired.
“You have to take a shower. You missed breakfast, it’s almost lunchtime, and then the reaping.”
“Okay mom, I’ll take a shower.”
I run to my bathroom, and grab the necessities for my shower. I scrub myself clean, and then step out of the shower, to see a dress laid out for me. It’s a sundress, with longer sleeves, that has oranges on it. I don’t know exactly why, but it looks pretty. I look around for my necklace that my aunt left me. She died in the previous Quarter Quell. My mom was devastated, and didn’t come out of the house until the next reaping. My dad didn’t eat much meat that year. The necklace is very pretty, and my aunt got it because it’s a Jabberjay, which complimented my mothers signature pin from her games. My parents call me their Jabberjay, only in private of course, because I have my mother’s spirit and my father’s mouth. I put on the dress, put some white sandals on, and put my necklace on. I brush my long hair, and pull it into a tight ponytail. I don’t want people thinking that I’m just like my mom, just in case I do get reaped. I walk towards the kitchen, to hear my parents talking.
“Oh Peeta. We’ve really done it this time.”
“Kat, we haven’t done anything wrong. If she is going to get reaped, she will. She’ll win even. We’ve been training her since she was six. Now shush before she walks over here.”
I walked over, and sat at the counter. I was now a little more nervous than previously, but I didn’t let it show. I ate one of the cheese buns, barely, but I know I will go to the Capitol either way. I calm down, and look at the time. It’s time to go to the reaping.
We walk down the street, and I separate from my parents, waiting in line. They walk up towards the front stage, and take a seat. My mom is holding my fathers hand in a death grip and talks about nothing to Haymitch. I wait in line, and when it’s my turn I stick my finger out. The man pricks my finger and places it on a piece of paper with my name on it. Reaping days are good to take count of who is all in our districts. I walk into my designated area, towards the front, and see my cousin, Naan, and her twin brother, Rye, in the boys section. Naan and I stand next to each other, and exchange pleasantries. She is the only person who will actively talk to me. Everyone else is afraid of me, that I bring a cloud of bad luck. We wait for another fifteen minutes, and then Mayor Cartwright walks up. He talks about what the Hunger Games are, and why they are held, the same spewl as every year. He then introduces Effie Trinket. She walks toward the microphone.
“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!”
I roll my eyes. It really is very cringe, and everyone in district 12 knows that the odds are not in our favor.
“As per usual, ladies first!”
I hold my breath. Please don’t let it be me, please no. Please. As she calls out the name, my head turns toward my mother, who falls out of her chair with grief, along with my father. Oh- the name?
“Rosemary Mellark.”