Pagans POV

That sentence rang awfully loud in my ears. Barona Harrington stood on the stage looking like a clown, like always. Every year I dreaded her arrival more and more, I hated the way she walked, I hated the way she dressed herself up like this was some kind of joke – I just hate her. This year around, she stuck with the themes of our district. My district. My home. A place I'm not proud of. Countless times I imagined myself being a District 1 girl, living a life of luxury and without hunger, without poverty, without the shame of being poor. God, I hate it here. Every kid in this crowd was staring up at Barona like she was the one who was going to kill our tributes and not the careers in the arena.

The chance of our tributes ever winning The Hunger Games was near zero, but what can I say? I'm bad at math. I just know I look miserable, even though my mother forced me into the prettiest dress that I owned – and believe me, I don't own a lot. I was just lucky that I lived at the high end of our district, with my parents owning a farm. While Barona was just rambling on about the capitol and showed us the all-beloved video made by the game makers to remind us why we have to go through these atrocities, I listened to the two girls next to me talk. The words "capitol whore" were mostly used in that conversation and I couldn't agree more.

"Okay everybody!" it rang out from the microphone. I don't know how to feel about this year's reaping. It's wasn't likely that my name gets pulled, I barely signed up for any tesserae this past year. But, as everyone knows, those pieces of paper with our names on it don't really give a shit if you think you are safe or not. They work in magic ways, somehow.

"Lady's first, right?" Barona smiled broadly, walking up to the glass bowl of the female names in her stupid clicking high heels. For some reason, panic started to settle in my stomach – it felt like I was about to throw up. My eyes wandered to the row of young male tributes, searching for my younger brother. My head snapped back on the stage when the clicking of Baronas walking stopped. Crap, this is not good. Everything was quiet, almost like everyone was holding their breaths – Crap, this is not good at all. The woman dipped her hand into the bowl, stirring her finger around the paper snippets until reaching down and pulling out a name. Can that capitol whore just hurry up? I swallowed hard. It felt like I would drop dead if Barona didn't hurry up and just read the name out. She, on the other hand, returned to the microphone and giggled as she unfolded the paper.

"Pagan Emory-"

and that's where it stopped. My heart, that is. She didn't even need to continue. Yeah, better if I just drop dead right here and now. If someone asked me how it feels like getting reaped, I couldn't answer. I don't know how I felt, I don't even know what my initial reaction was. Now I just stood there, glassy eyes looking up at the stage. What a fucking nightmare. The girls around me turned their heads in my direction, already making way for me to go up the stage. Fuck now I felt it. The emotions bubbled up in me, especially when I heard someone starting to cry. Probably my brother, or my mother, I honestly couldn't tell – Not like I wanted to know.

"Now! Pagan? Come up here, sweetheart!"

How dare she be this upbeat? Like I wasn't just selected for my inevitable death? My breathing quickened, my thinking slowed down. The peacekeepers harshly grabbing my arms to drag me up to Barona was what snapped me out of it. It wasn't fear, terror or sadness that I felt – it was resentment. It was hostility, like I was about to lynch the woman that waved me up to her, like I was about to rip her and that stupidly expensive dress apart . She'd deserve it.

The peacekeepers flung me to the stairs that led up to the stage when I showed resistance against their movements. This is so fucking humiliating, getting up there as this years female tribute.

"Don't be afraid now, child. Come up here, Pagan."

I huffed at her words. Perhaps calling me a child and not seeing anything wrong with the reason she was calling me to her was what angered me the most. Hearing the click of the safety, that was now apparently taken off of their stupid machine guns, made me definitely hurry up the stairs. Looking over the crowd of my people that I had to represent now was weird. They stared and I just stared back. Hastily, Barona tugged me by the sleeves of my dress to come closer to the microphone.

"Okay, this is Pagan! Our pretty female tribute this year!" Oh, she can suck my dick if she's going to call me that.

"Now to our male tribute. Isn't this just so exciting?" Barona spoke to the crowd, her ridiculous long hair whipping after her as she made her way to the glass bowl filled with male names. I was about to cry, to think that she could pull someone's name out that I already knew. My eyes scanned through the crowd, spotting my little brother with my parents as they're trying to console him. It honestly just broke my heart. You know that disgusting feeling you get when you actually, physically feel your heart ache? I was sure that would never leave me again.

"Jonah Faraday!"

I didn't even notice Barona came back and stood next to me by the microphone. She waved the piece of paper around, smiling as she did so. Jonah Faraday? Oh no. Of course I knew him. Jonah was a guy in my class in school – Most say his family is the one that struggles most out of every student. Being a student in District 9 is an honor, so I never agreed nor liked the mockery that was said about him. He's so nice, such a polite young man. To think that he's going to lose his life now at the hands of the capitol was almost as heartbreaking as it was hearing my own name. Jonah is a tall young man. He definitely has a higher chance to win than me.

"Jonah! There you are, come up here!" And he did so. Without resistance, without hesitation. Probably the smarter choice. I can tell he initially started to cry before he wiped his tears away and took his place next to Barona on stage. Making eye contact with him was the most awkward thing in my life. He knew me, and he knew that I have defended him from the mean things others have said before, though he never said thank you or something. "The selection this year looks good!" Barona said, taking my left and Jonah's right hand in hers, holding them up now. "Happy Hunger Games everyone! And as always, Pagan and Jonah, may the odds be ever in your favor!"

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Jasmines POV

Great, reaping day. That one day in the year I feel even worse than usual. They really know how to torture us innocent children, huh? I can't even stand to look at our district's escort, Dolabella Harcourt, right now. She tapped the microphone in front of her to gain our attention, other girls around me immediately shutting up and straightening their dresses. My reaping dress that I wore actually belonged to my mother – She thought it would bring good luck to be wearing something that connects you to a person you love. I hope to God that she's right, just like all the years before.

"Welcome, welcome everybody to the 74th annual Hunger Games!" it came from Dolabella, her voice squeaking through the big speakers the peacekeepers had set up hours prior. I woke up today, having forgotten what Event was taking place today, actually feeling good for once. Now that I was standing on the dusty ground of our town's center I felt dirty myself. It was even worse when Dolabella started off by showing us the annual video by the capitol, that shamed us district people into the ground, for what we have done in the Rebellion.

"And with that, we shall begin, right? We have no time to waste today!" My god, couldn't they have given us a less annoying escort? Her voice went in one ear and right out the other. Dolabella is fairly young, no older than 21 and it was just so angering to see her take this lightly. I despise capitol residents a lot, but she definitely takes the cake. This feeling of despair took over my body, making me shiver, as she approached the female reaping bowl on her left. Strangely, this year I didn't feel nearly as protected by my parents praying as I did the year before. I can actually consider myself lucky that we aren't too bad off, too poor, so I don't have to sign up for tesserae at all. Dolabellas pretty flowy, flowery dress waved behind her in the warm summer wind — The things I'd do to be in her shoes right now. There was so much hatred I carried with me, but every year I can't help but somehow feel bad for her. She was just the capitols puppet, just like us.

"As always, we start with our female tribute!" And immediately I heard a little girl behind me start crying. Why are they doing this to us? I turned around to look at her, instantly knowing this was her first reaping day, like she just came of reaping age. Fucking monsters. My face contorted in hurt for her, my breathing speeding up as I realized what was actually going on right now. I put my hand on her shoulder, the girl abruptly flinched and started wailing. I just tried to comfort her to the best of my abilities, just like I would've wanted the year my first reaping day took place. We're all together in this misery, so might aswell try to make it better for younger kids and show compassion.

I assured her it'll be fine, wiped her tears away with my hand and tucked her by my side when I heard Dolabella walk back to the microphone. What a bunch of bullshit. My legs felt like jelly. Like they're going to give out under me if I took a step forward. Dolabella unraveled the little piece of paper while worry plastered every face in the crowd.

"Jasmine Eliza Rooker!"

What? I raised my head slowly to look at the dolled up woman on stage. The Flag of Panem was waving in the air right behind her – Oh how ironic. It was like she punched the air out of my lungs by simply just calling my name out. The little girl I had my arm around turned her head to look at me. I bet she could just smell the absolute fear I was feeling right now. She felt it and I know it.

My arm fell from her shoulder and I could see how her eyes swelled up with tears again, this time for me. Oh, sweet girl. Looking down at her I saw my younger self in her, which just disturbed me even more.

"Jasmine, would you come up her please?" Dolabella whistled in her oh so sweet voice, peacekeepers forcing their way to me. When one took me by the hand I just couldn't handle it anymore and started to silently cry, my head lowered, my confidence at an all time low. "Don't cry, it'll all be fine!" I'll have your fucking head for this, Dolabella.

Stray tears rolled down my cheeks as I was not able to stop them anytime soon. With my shaky legs, I was forced to walk up the stairs to the escort, almost tripping and eating shit in the process.
"Good, now onto our male tribute." Dolabella sounded so weirdly proud of herself saying that, while I just watched my parents cry in the crowd, hugging each other like they already knew I was slipping from their hands. I am so done for. With a dim expression, I was picking at my nails, turning my head around to see that the flag of Panem was still waving in the air, waving in glory.

After just a few seconds, that left like eternity for me, Dolabella unraveled the male tributes name next to me and spoke into the microphone:

"Cain Lockway!"

You've got to be fucking kidding me. Cain, out of everyone, it was Cain. The Cain that all girls in school had a crush on, the Cain who was actually very talented and sporty and the Cain, whose brother was to absolutely die for. At least in my opinion. Sadly, tragically he was too old to volunteer for his little brother, who started crying the second he heard his name. This is so not fair. So, so not fair.

Cain was a talent, someone to look up to, actually. And now we both have to stand here, knowing we will for sure lose our lives in the Games. The boy was taken up stage by peacekeepers, and now that I had stopped crying, he can't even begin with that.
"What a selection this year, right everyone? Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

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