CHAPTER TWO
THE WORST NIGHTMARE

reaping day, two years prior

Arella's arm is linked with Mirabelle's as they make their way to the town centre, the area filled to the brim with District Five residents. This is her last year, the final time she has to go through this horrifying experience. If she is lucky enough, Arella will walk away from here this afternoon completely unscathed.

Mirabelle stops in her tracks, forcing the younger girl to come to a halt as well, unlinking their arms. It's not often Mirabelle shows her emotions in front of strangers, she doesn't like other people to see through her tough girl facade, so seeing the fear in her eyes is enough to startle Arella. The brunette gets it though, the last time one of their siblings had turned eighteen they had ended up going into the arena. Elgar had been so giddy at the thought of no longer being in danger, of being able to live out the rest of his life, when his name was called it had thrown them all.

Arella still sees his bloodied face every time she tries to sleep, his lifeless gaze the complete opposite of his optimistic personality.

"Belle," Arella speaks quietly, gently grabbing onto her arms and ushering her off to the side. "Belle it's okay,"

"You don't know that, you don't. Ella, you can't be like him. You can't," Mirabelle stumbles of her words, pulling her into an embrace and hugging her tightly.

"Hey, don't worry, okay? It'll be over soon and neither of us will have to go through it again. They won't be able to hurt us anymore,"

Mirabelle sniffles, hiding her face in her younger sister's hair. The two girls stand there for a moment, the younger still trying her hardest to comfort the older, but people are beginning to move into their respective spots and she knows she's going to have to follow. Not attending a Reaping has severe consequences, ones that end the same way it would if she was called.

"We have to go, Belle," Arella whispers softly, pulling away from the woman who eyes are a deep red. A tap on the microphone on stage pulls her attention away, the brunette squeezing her sister's hand before heading for her bay. Sliding in between two girls she recognizes from a few homes down, Arella readies herself for the Reaping.

The familiar woman steps up to the microphone almost giddily, somehow happy at the fact she's about to send two children off to their deaths. Sierra Holk, a beautiful Capitol resident with flowing brunette locks and striking green eyes, has been the District Escort for a number of years now. An extravagant dresser with a smile worth millions of dollars, in Arella's eyes she's just as cruel as the rest. No amount of expensive jewels can mask the evil bubbling within her, a willing follower of a Capitol regime that Arella detests so greatly.

"Welcome District Five! Today is an exciting day, we get to find out who will have the honour of representing their District in the 72nd Annual Hunger Games," Sierra exclaims into the microphone, her voice booming around them.

It's incredible how out of tune she is, how ignorant the people of the Capitol are in general. There is nothing honorable about being chosen to compete in these Games, the people of District Five see it as more of a curse than anything else. There was nothing enjoyable about watching her older brother bleed out in front of the entire nation and she takes no pleasure in watching those she'd grown up with die either.

"As usual, out of common courtesy, we will be drawing our female tribute first," Sierra claps her hands dramatically and glides over to the large bowl full of names. Hundreds upon hundreds of different names and in there is her own, Arella Sinclair perfectly printed on the pristinely folded paper.

There's a hush over the crowd as Sierra pushes her hand into the bowl and touches a few of the papers before finally grabbing on and pulling out. The girl to Arella's right is shaking astronomically, trembling to the point where it feels as if she might fall to the ground in a panic. Out of instinct more than anything, Arella gently grabs the girl's hand as some sort of comfort and reassurance which she seems to appreciate.

Sierra makes a show out of undoing the paper, pulling the seal slowly as if to create suspense. The people in the Capitol probably love it, sitting on the edge of their seats as they await for the name to be called. Here it has the opposite effect, the girls sinking back away from the stage in fear.

"Our female tribute for District Five," Sierra starts, eyes bright with glee as if she's giving this person on the paper a gift of some sort. Arella can feel the other girl's hand squeezing her's tightly. "Arella Sinclair,"

It takes her a few moments to realize what has actually just been said, Mirabelle's loud cry heard from somewhere in the crowd. The girl, whose hand she had been holding, lets out a small whimper of her own — Arella isn't sure whether it's relief for herself or pain for the her.

The crowd begins to part, creating a pathway for her to follow to the stage. The hand slips out of her grasp as Arella begins to move forward, shaky steps towards the Peacekeepers who have begun to search for her amongst the sea of people. Her feet are working on their own accord, leaning her to the steps on the side of the stage. Sierra smiles at her rather brightly, gesturing for her to come and stand by her side which she does — albeit rather slowly.

Arella cannot hear anything other than her sister's sobs, the rest of the District fallen into silence. Sierra gently guides her over to stand beside her microphone before moving to the other bowl. Everybody is looking at her, she can feel their gaze on her, but she can't look at them — if she does, she'll burst into tears. Arella is not going to let the people of the Capitol see that, she won't give them the sick satisfaction.

"And our male tribute for District Five is Malcolm Burton,"

The name doesn't ring a bell, Arella can say quite confidently that she's never met them. It becomes increasingly clear why as a small boy staggers his way forward, being led from the area where all the twelve year olds had been standing. If her heart was broken before, it's now absolutely shattered. His youthful face is pale, eyes wide in fear as he walks up onto the stage. Part of her is begging that somebody steps forward and takes his place, that there is some sort of mercy left in this world, but nobody does. She can't exactly blame them either.

"Our District Five tributes everyone!" Sierra claps lightly, moving out of the way so that the two of them can shake hands. Malcolm can't even look at her, like he's afraid of her. They shake hands and then are guided off the stage.

Sitting by herself in complete silence, Arella is still trying to let the events of the last hour or so sink in. No one had come to visit her yet, it's to be expected really. Mirabelle hadn't gone to see Elgar either, she couldn't bring herself to actually say goodbye. It makes her heart ache ever so slightly but she gets it, she understands. Sometimes things are just much too hard.

The door does open up after a few more minutes, Arella looking up to see a Peacekeeper standing on his lonesome. There's nobody else with him, nobody to bid the brunette farewell before she's dragged off to die on national television.

"It's time to go," He says strongly, his voice deep and commanding. Arella doesn't resist, there's no point really, they'd just pull her straight back. "Quickly,"

Arella leaves the building, looking back at District Five for one last time, before she's shoved into a car. Sierra sits between the two tributes, chatting excessively and using her hands to make gestures. To be completely honest, Arella hasn't retained an ounce of the information that the woman has spat out, keeping her eyes on the window just so she can see the finer details of home before it's ripped away from her.

There are tears swimming in her eyes now that are just desperate to break free from her constraint but she can't let them. Cameras are pretty much watching her every move at the moment, especially as they grow nearer the train station, so tries her hardest to keep herself stone faced. She can only imagine the things they're already saying about her, her thin and weak looking form enough for them to practically write her off completely already. Their favourites are always those from the richer Districts — 1, 2 and on occasion 4. District Five isn't a fan favourite, even though they supply all their power.

She yearns to go back to her small home as the car pulls up at the station, the extravagant train currently stalled and awaiting for its passengers. It's so odd, something so abnormally beautiful being in a District that consists of mostly concrete buildings.

The car door is opened for her, Peacekeepers surrounding the two tributes and Sierra. There's loud shouting around her, the cameras trying to get a glimpse of District Five's newest tributes, calling out their names to try and get something out of them. It's overwhelming, her heart racing as they close in on her, claustrophobia well and truly beginning to set in.

"Oh darlings, you are going to absolutely adore the train," Sierra calls over her shoulder, that same grin on her face once again. "Your own rooms and everything!"

I have my own room at home. Considering it's only herself and Mirabelle living there, they've each been able to have their own space. It's not much space at all, the size of her entire house is likely smaller than a Capitol residents bedroom.

Malcolm strays behind her, the young boy now openly crying. That painful pang is back, the devastation on his face enough to make her feel even worse than previously. Twelve years old and made to fight for his life against people who have been training all their life, it's just not fair. Then again, when has the Capitol ever cared for fairness? They'd much rather have a good show than think about the ramifications of their enjoyment.

"Jack is to meet us in the Capitol as he has some business to attend to at this time. Not to worry though, the staff on the train will treat you well," Sierra assures.

Jack Solomon is their last victor from District Five, a man who has been weighed down by guilt and terror. Arella has seen him around the District before, dark bags under his eyes and a bottle of liquor in his hand. He's a sad sight, a walking reminder that even winning the Games doesn't fix all your problems.

Sierra opens up the door and the breath leaves Arella's lungs, eyes wide as she takes in the interior of the vehicle. The walls are painted a washed out grey but there are gold accents along the windows and doors. The tables are large, stocked with all different types of foods and drink, too much for Arella to even fathom. She wouldn't even be able to tell what half of them are, much too extravagant for somebody living in one of the Districts. She's never really seen anything golden in colour first hand, only during the lead up to the Games on the screen.

"Go, take a seat and have something to eat!" Sierra insists, her enthusiasm almost matched by the two hungry children who waste no time heading towards the table. "I shall return shortly, talk amongst yourselves,"

Then the two tributes are left alone, a steady silence falling over the train as they eat. It's obvious that neither of them know what to say, what could they possibly say? I'm sorry that at least one of us will be dead in a few weeks. The idea sends a shiver down her spine, the thought of this boy's lifeless eyes already terrifying enough.

"I'm Malcolm," It's the boy who breaks the silence, his voice a mere broken whisper as he finally looks her in the eyes.

"Arella," The girl responds quietly, sipping on her water. "I'm sorry we didn't get to meet under better circumstances,"

Arella genuinely means it too, this is no place for a child to be — nobody should have to do this but he is far too young. Malcolm merely nods his head in agreement and goes back to eating his own food, not wanting the conversation to carry on any further. So instead, the two allow the sounds of the train to fill in the quiet, both perhaps taking comfort in somebody from home whilst also keeping to themselves.

The two of them only have each other from home now, Arella is going to make sure she looks out for him.

Right now, that's all she can do to keep herself sane.