Chapter One, Reaping Day

❝ you let me know there's nothing in this world ❞

❝ i can't do. ❞

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MANY PEOPLE FIND AMONGST THE OBSTACLES OF A SOCIETY A DESIGNATED HOBBY THAT THEY SHALL, AND ARE OBLIGED TO practise until the shadow of death greets them while they lie at their stoned and silver tomb. An occupation represented and reflected the insides of a character, the depths of their bones.

I discovered that the beauty of a kill was what satisfied my soul, so I drowned in it until I considered it reached perfection. Consider this a challenge, or not, but I promise that I could make my blade puncture the centre of your obsidian pupil if I try. It's not a threat, merely an observation.

It feels good to be able to say that I am better than anyone else at something, whether it's in the art of drawing or killing. Lines are blurred when the outcomes of situations differ. People tend to find it surprising someone like me became the most skilled killer in Twelve. On the contrary.

I know the world and its quirks, and I am fully aware that I don't have a designated place in it. In a forest, you can be anything that fulfils your most passionate desires and wants. Everything has a purpose in nature, just like anyone can choose its own fate.

I don't believe in the cowardice of letting others dictate you with their golden stick and velvet, plush throne. Only the specks of the stars can control your shine, if you are worthy of it.

Sure, problems will also violently and shamelessly strike you down, cause for the familiar river of salt to seep out of your irises. Building a facade that will shield you from harm of cuts is part of survival. Revel in it, while you still can.

I'm a rose, with thorns that will transform you body into a cascade of maroon blood if you deserve my curse. The deer didn't, but I have the common flaw of prioritising my needs over others.

It is really a flaw, though? Or does it represent my clearness of mind and determination to continue my regular pattern of breath in this world.

However, my family doesn't exist in this world of mine. Call me selfish, Alice in Wonderland didn't have her family follow her down the rabbit hole, did she? She saved an entire universe through her ambition and creativity, and I shall do the same.

Though, despite all of this, I do believe that I was put on this earth to dedicate my decisions so they shall protect my little sister, Primrose Everdeen, from the jab of the cruel people. Maybe it's just the melody of love, that guides me to do anything in my power to help my sister, an angel that deserves to fly with other perfect souls.

Despite our genes beating the same rhythm, I can never say my heart is as pure as hers. Mine is submerged with blood that I can't wipe off, while hers radiates of gold.

My purpose revolves around the ongoing and perpetual hunting that allow for our smiles to continue gleaming and our stomach to quiet down their despair. Killing is natural, familiar even, for someone like me.

I can barely feel the beads of sticky sweat cascade down my pearly skin as I direct my knife towards what I would hope be my dinner. I lightly squeeze the hilt of the weapon, squint my eyes and crouch down, camouflaged by the viridescent and large bush.

I let a shaky breath escape my lips and ready myself, on the verge of making my murderous move.

The deer shudders against the cool wafts of wind caressing its spiked up hairs. However, it stays positioned in the same place, finding supposed comforts between the trunks of chestnut wood, seeming yet to cage the animal.

Maybe the deer is just like me. Rapidly escaping reality to come in contact with the forest's gentle embrace, promising a new opportunity, where only the tingles of pine can play at my nostrils and where my hair is able to freely flow in the cool air.

I scrunch my nose, progressively readying myself to attack my unsuspecting prey.

One. . .

Two. . .

Thre-

Suddenly, a familiar voice booms from behind me.

The newly alerted deer spontaneously freezes and runs away in the blink of a second, leaving me with an empty stomach and a frown making its way on my lips.

Gale !

The tall brunette stands next to me, a goofy smile resting on his dusty face, his demeanour translating his pride at having caught my full attention, despite the consequences.

"I've been looking for you." he says, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his eyebrows.

"Well, not only have you found me, you took away my chance of feeding Prim and my mom tonight. Dick." I strike back, planting my hands at my sides and glaring at my friend.

"Not like you were going to actually catch that deer." he lightly argues, obviously toying with me.

"Hey! I was!" I immediately counter, lightly insulted that he could deny my skills as a hunter. "Some would say I'm the best hunter in 12. . ." I continue, a smirk now accompanying my expression, pride lacing itself with my words.

I turn around to face Gale, and I can't control the fleeting escape of my anger when my eyes meet his, two irises plunging into each other's. Instead, I greet him by latching my arms around his waist, never truly being able to stay angry at him for too long.

Gale has been my best friend since he taught me everything I now know. How to hunt, make my way through these tall trees, feed my family and most importantly build a life for myself.

After my father's heartbreaking accident and my mother barely existing anymore, I felt lost, abandoned, deeply wounded. I was having a difficult time at school after the incident, and I noticed Prim's body getting skinnier by the day, causing for my heart to sink into a deep ocean whose waves inflicted surges of pain.

Gale must have noticed my state deteriorating too because, one day, after classes, he approached me, handed me a used knife that twinkled in the light and offered for me to follow him. I didn't know the boy at that point, but something about his nutty eyes told me I could trust him and his kind smile. I was right to.

It's become tradition that every afternoon we head to the forest hand in hand, while he teaches me how to excel my kills. Well, it's the other way around now. I am a fast learner, and I've surpassed Gale or any other illegal hunter in the skill.

Even at the first moments, I had quickly grown to take pleasure in the art of knife throwing. I was a natural, and, after a few weeks, it became my escape from reality.

Like I said, the way in which I have complete control of the sharp and curved blade buzzes my heart with perilous happiness and the pattern of irresistible power. It is curious that the handle of a lethal weapon is what truly leads to the quirk of my lips.

Instead of fearing this particular hobby, I fully embrace it. I've become someone new, someone my past self could never recognise. Confidence oozes out of my assertive movements, and a smirk is usually found lingering onto my upturned mouth.

Instead of letting myself get disappointed by the flagrant poverty of my home, I've learnt to appreciate its quirks and find irresistible pleasure in my occupations, no matter how deadly they may seem.

Along with Gale, who's helped me pick up the pieces and become whole again ( well, maybe not completely, but it was progress ).

However, despite a few, recurrent speculations, nothing romantic ever blossomed between Gale and I, even though sometimes I notice his hazel gaze lingering during a questionable period of time on my face. Yet, he's my best friend, and I can't imagine loosing him. Ever.

A toothy grin has now replaced any sort of frown, waves of appreciation for the boy cursing through my veins.

Nevertheless, if you happen to look close enough, a hint of sadness gleams tragically in our expressions. . .

Today is Reaping day for the 74th annual Hunger Games. The day where fear rules among every district. The day where we send two children to a ruthless, inhuman, and chilling game. Where twenty-four tributes enter, and only one comes out.

"You okay?" Gale asks, observing me with narrowed eyes, knowing what my answer would be.

"No. I'm so sick of this, being at Snow's mercy, sending off innocent kids to get slaughtered for the Capitol's fucking entertainment. I'll never be okay with that. No one should be." I sigh. It's as if the sentence has just been sitting at my lips, waiting to come out.

"We can't do anything about it, though." Gale scoffs, in annoyance at the world, at Snow.

"I wish, I wish I could find a way." I voice, eyes narrowing.

"What if everyone just stopped watching? For one year. There'll be no games then." the brunette responds, as if this could be a solution to everything.

"We both know they won't Gale. It won't happen." I answer, lightly smiling, trying to imagine a world where the games didn't exist.

The President is a smart totalitarian, because, if you think about it, the games are what truly pin us to the ground and stop us from spreading our wings. It's what we dread the most. The Hierarchy makes it clear that the most powerful and luxurious part of society will never be on our side, making any change an impossible challenge.

"You root for your favourites, you cry when they get killed, it's sick." he continues, disgust dripping in his expression and words.

"Gale... There's no use in - " I start, but the boy soon interrupts me.

"If no one watches, then they don't have game. Simple as that." he concludes, crossing his arms over his chest.

Now, I simply look at him, my mouth in a fine line, holding in a chuckle at his innocent naivety. No one would stop watching the games, especially not the Capitol.

"What? Stop laughing at me." he says, but I notice his lips quirking up a little too.

"I'm not laughing at you." I barely manage to get out before I burst out in a fit of giggles, and he does too. Our laughs ricochet against the tress of the woods, confusing nearby animals.

When our laughs have faded out and include itself within the wind, an ephemeral pause follows where I peer at every detail that stands in front of us, promising me a secure and wild home.

I find excitement and love when I'm dozing off between the imposing trunks of wood and stealthily climbing through them, preparing various kills to orchestrate.

I have been told that I defied the usual expectations, and no one expects a girl from Twelve, doomed to a life of misery and injustice to bounce off such joy and fierceness. To pursue resisting set laws, to skim past the order and authority to kill with such beauty.

Some could consider me reckless, wild, a deadly beauty with no limits. Other could notice the reflection of a girl that just wants to feel there.

"We could do it you know, take off, live in the woods." Gale offers. This is an idea he constantly tells me about, but I know better than to follow his reckless and stupid theories. Instead, his hypothesis have grown to amuse me.

I don't try to contain my laugh this time, simultaneously laying my head onto the crook of his shoulder, taking in the nature that lay in front of me.

"They would catch us. We wouldn't even make it to five miles." I say, grinning.

"Maybe not." he shrugs.

"You know I would never leave Prim on her own, I love her too much for that. Can't get through a day without seeing her cute little face every morning." I claim. Just thinking about the possibility of losing my sister could make me go feral.

"Hey, I never said Prim couldn't come!" he teases.

"Prim? In the woods? You have to be kidding." I speak, raising my eyebrows.

"Now that you say it, I do have a hard picturing it." Gale's face goes a little paler as he continues. "But Jade, seriously, I honestly think you would be the only one to survive such a life. Not me, nor anyone else"

"I agree," I joke, punching Gale's shoulder, "I mean, as long as I've got my knives I'm good to go."

"Definitely. But hey, look what I got" he adds. I look curiously at him, intrigued by his last statement.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small, warm piece of bread that smells like heaven. He waves it in front of my eyes, and I quickly tear it out of his hands, breaking it in half and plunging my nose into its soft interior.

"Oh my god, is this real?" I ask, euphoria and giddiness cursing through my body, healing my previously disappointed stomach.

"Better be, cost me a squirrel." he declares.

My hand finds his and comfort floods through me. I truly have no idea what I'd do without him.

"Close your eyes." he adds as I take a bite into the piece of bread, quickly swallowing it.

"Why?" I ask, unsure of what to expect from him.

"Just do it Everdeen" he says, demanding.

Following his orders, my eyes flutter shut. In the blink of a second, my lips are filled with a sudden warmth and my breath catches in my throat. Gale was kissing me. Considering that this could be the last time I ever see him, I don't pull back. My mind goes blank, a void replacing every single thought I could ever have and I kiss back, inching to feel something that could bring colour to the dark clouds owning the sky, to change today's sombre melancholy.

"What was that for?" I ask, shock written all over my face. I don't feel anything particular for Gale, but I love him, and he does too.

"Just in case." he mumbles, peering at the ground, ignoring my stare. I don't say anything, because in a way, I understand. Time is ticking away, and soon enough, I could be met with my reaping.

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I make my way back home and try my best to distract myself on what might or might not happen this afternoon. My hand meets Gale's while he brings me closer to him trying to calm me down, a certain awkwardness floating between us.

This year, my name will be thirty two times in the bowl today, not exactly putting the odds in my favour.

My boots creak against the ancient floor as I hurriedly mount the stairs, my bag bouncing against my hip. I have an hour before the ceremony commences. As soon as I barge into my room, I am met with Prim's soft arms circling my very waist. I stroke her hair, attempting to calm her clear, painful sobs.

Prim Everdeen is a fragile soul, that is easily bruised. Since her birth, I can say I've never loved someone so intensely. My little sister shines of gold, her words a soft river that twinkle in sunlight. She's my sister, my responsibility.

I crouch down to her eye level, cupping her face. Her eyes translate waves of fear brewing sadly in her irises. I take her hand carefully, opening her palm. Her fingers spread out weakly, like a bird, trying to show its feathered wings. Delicately, I place a bronze and rusty pin in the centre of it, having found it at the market. The woman was kind enough to offer it to me, being a loyal customer and provider to that place. In its centre is a mockingjay, his wings hugging the borders of the accessory. It had caught my eye immediately, it reminded me of all the liberty that we had lost.

"I'm scared, Jade. What if - what if I get picked?" She stammers, her voice breaking. I let a slight smile grace my lips and wipe her tears from her porcelain skin.

"Prim, I promise you, everything will be okay. This pin, it'll protect you tonight, okay? Nothing bad will happen to you." I say, attempting to comfort her bruised mind.

She nods, though the sadness remains lingering onto her expression. I could never deal with anything bad happening to my little sister, whose angel face has been my compass through all these hard years.

My gaze then lands on a cerulean dress neatly spread on my bed. My heart beats faster as I recall my mother wearing this exact dress, realising her willingness to pass on her most beautiful clothing. A grin accompanies my delicate features. Simultaneously, my sisters' soft hands braid a few strands of my chestnut hair, on the right side of my face, letting the rest of my hair free to fly and follow the wind.

Standing up and facing the lengthy mirror, I realise I don't hate the manner in which the dress hugs my frame, or points out the flecks of ocean dust sitting in my eyes. It's hard to believe that behind this exterior is an experienced hunter, a killer, ready to dart between the woods with no worries plaguing her mind.

I continue to stare at my reflection until my sister croaks a weak sentence "I wish I looked like you."

"Oh no, I wish I looked like you, little duck." I answer as I approach Prim and affectionately  squeeze her cheeks, a mirror grin spreading on both our faces. This moment is interrupted by the blaring of the alarm, announcing the moment we all dread. Prim huddles closer to me, fighting with the cloth of my dress.

I'm used to the echo of the Reaping, call of us terrified candidates to the stage, the main point of District Twelve. It's my fourth reaping, and each one gets scarier. Who knows, maybe I'll be the next child to go into the games?

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Half an hour later, Prim and I are standing among a crowd of frightened kids, hoping it wouldn't be their name Effie Trinket reads out. Hoping someone else would take their place. I try to walk confidently, not letting my fears posses my body, serving as ash example for my little sister. 

My first attendance at the Reaping ceremony was the worst. I was alone amongst a horde of anonymous individuals, no one to talk to, no one to hold. They yanked my wrist aggressively, pricking my finger with a sharp blade, and a droplet of blood exited my finger. They pressed it firmly onto their paper, and I was no more than my DNA, no more than dried up liquid.

Now, I don't feel an ounce of pain when they cut through my skin, being used to the sensation. Instead, I let a smile spread onto my cheeks when I make eye contact with the Peace Keeper. He didn't frighten me, not anymore.

Prim shakes miserably under the pain ad they prick her finger as well, not familiar to the deliberately inflicted pain. I squeeze her hand, leading her to our positions in the crowd. Soon enough, she heads to the first row, along with the other twelve year old, while I stay at the far end of the line.

People from my school stand next to me, but no acquaintance speak a word to each other. No one ever does, not at the Reaping. Yet, I can't help but scan the crowd of boys on the other side of the platform. Immediately, I notice Gale, his eyes trained on the only remaining victor of District 12, Haymitch Abernathy.

The man barely manages to sit down without falling, due to his very clear state of insobriety. My eyes shift to our escort, and I have to stop myself from smirking at Effie's, once again, terribly ridiculous costume.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour. Now, before we begin, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the Capitol."

"War, terrible war. . ." I notice Gale mouths to me, in unison with the televised screen catching all of our futile attentions while I stick my tongue out to him in response.

"Widows, orphans, a motherless child. This was the uprising that rocked our land. Thirteen districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Brother turned on brother until nothing remained." a monotone and chilling voice commences, ringing waves of familiarity.

"And then came the peace, hard fought, sorely won. People rose up from the ashes, and a new era was born. But freedom has a cost, and the traitors were defeated. We swore as a nation we would never know this treason again." After sixteen years of listening to the same, it gets slightly repetitive. The familiar images flow in front of me, causing for boredom to spike at my heart.

"And so it was decreed that each year the various districts of Panem would offer up in tribute, one young man and woman to fight to the death in a pageant of honour, courage, and sacrifice. The lone victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness." I frown as the end of the movie approaches, attempting to brainwash us all.

"This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard a future." the unidentified voice finishes, leaving the power of the moment to our escort, Effie Trinket.

"Now has come the time to select one brave young man and woman for the honour of representing the District 12 in the 74th Annual Hunger Games." she announces, her voice ringing through her unwilling audience.

"Ladies first." she smiles, and my heart skips when her hand reaches for the vast bowl sitting patiently in front of her, describing one's fate.

Her slender fingers catch one of the names scribbled onto a small paper, mixed with other similar notes. She slowly unfolds it, coughing before reading it, then declares in the microphone the full name of the victim. "Primrose Everdeen!" she shouts.

It can't be. Everything around me becomes a confusing blur and it feels like my heart has stopped beating its usual rhythm. Not her. Anyone but her. I try to find my little sister in the crowd, pushing past strangers or friends, desperate to save her from her doom.

My mind and emotions shatter into millions of shattered pieces when Prim's bloodcurdling scream make its way to my ears. My heart drops, and it all feels surreal. When I glance at her distraught appearance and her soft arms being viciously grabbed by the Peacekeepers, I know exactly what I am going to do next.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I scream suddenly, desperate to come to my sister's aid, not caring about the consequences. Waves of gasps flow through the crown.

I don't let my emotions make their way to my face and hold my chin up high. I advance towards the stage, my boots stepping on the dusty platform of District 12.

"Don't you dare touch me!" I exclaim, rage cursing through my veins as a Peacekeeper attempts to grab onto my arm.

I am determined not to seem scared, even though, if you pay attention, you may notice my shaking hands and bottom lip quivering terribly.

Standing next to Effie, I have a front row seat to people's saddened and surprised faces as I represent the first volunteer from this district. Ever.

I am trying hard to not let my brave facade get destroyed by this life changing event.

"What's your name?" Effie inquires, not even looking my way.

"Jade Everdeen." I croak dryly, watching as my sister is caught by dozens of Peacekeeper, dragging her disturbs self away. Away from me.

"Well I bet my hats that was your sister!" she responds giddily.

Yeah, it didn't take a genius to make that assumption. I simply nod.

"Now, let's have a big hand for our very first volunteer, Jade Everdeen."

Silence. Complete, terrifying silence. I stare at the crowd, now lifting three fingers to the air, to say goodbye to someone you love. This is a moment I'll remember forever, my district defying the rules to translate their admiration for my courage. I can't even look at my mother, or at Gale.

"And now for the boys..." Effie awkwardly continues, her heels clinking against the ground.

"Peeta Mellark."

A distant memory takes place in my mind as soon as I take a glimpse of his face. I rapidly shrug it off, not daring to create any connection with a possible, and very probable obstacle to my survival.

We shake hands, under Effie's instructions, his trembling palm meeting mine for what seemed like an eternity.

Only one thing stayed anchored in my being and I refused to let it go.

This year, District 12 is going to crown a new victor, named Jade Everdeen, and I won't let anything get in the way of that.