Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Clock
Tick tock, tick tock, the sound of the clock continues to beat in the same pattern as my heart. The sound was methodological and precise, I felt as if my heart would explode at any second. I stare at the mirror in front of me as the beat continues to drum. My eyes look tired, my hair is a dark tangled mess despite it being short, and I almost look sickly pale. It doesn’t help that the flared button-up shirt I'm wearing is almost the same shade of sickly white as me. I practically blend into the walls.
Although my mind continues to age, I still feel as if a child is staring back at me in the mirror. I still feel the same range of emotions as if I were still twelve at every reaping. However, as the clock continued to tick I became aware that this time was different, with age comes increased odds. This feeling of uncertain certainty scares me. As I continue to stare into the mirror my hand takes my brush and I begin to rapidly detangle my hair to the ticks of the clock.
The “what ifs” course through my head despite trying to tell myself I am being unreasonable again.
Like every other child today the what ifs of being reaped parade my mind. If the games themselves were ones of just brute strength, I don’t think I would make it past the pedestal. Perhaps the pedestal part was an overexaggeration but this sense of panic is consuming me. I continue staring at the mirror expressionless but with how rough I am combing my hair I might die from a head injury before the games.
“Wiress? You ready yet?” a steady voice from downstairs calls out. I instantly recognize the voice by the coarseness of it. My older, and much smarter brother Neo is home.
Neo is a tall slender man, with round glasses, and instead of tangled hair, he has nice dark curls. He was put together, while I was an intricate mess. Despite being well put together it doesn’t hide hours of labor on one’s face.
Neo is also my best friend. I know, it’s “pathetic” to have your best friend be your older brother. But he was the only one who put up with me. For example, when I was eight years old my childhood crush Lenny Cooper laughed at me for gifting him a deer made of poorly welded together nuts and bolts. Although embarrassing now to think about, I remember how much I cried over it. Rocking my knees quietly crying in my room for hours. But instead of justifiably teasing me Neo simply slipped a welded Cardinal made up of scrap metal and nails.
“Neo?” I yell back downstairs. Ever since my brother completed his reaping years, he was assigned a technical job manufacturing holograms in a factory far from our home. With the long hours of District 3 work life, it is a rarity to see him home or to be honest anywhere that's not in a factory. “Come down here chip head!” he yells once again. It’s crazy how one dumb conversation as a five-year-old leads to a nickname like that, but that's Neo.
The second time he yells I sprint down the stairs almost tripping from my socks slipping against the wood. I don’t say anything to him but I simply just hug him tightly. He almost looks taken aback by the hug as he continues to smile at me. “Hey..hey..” he says with a comforting voice. “You’re not going anywhere.”
After hugging, we both sat on the couch while our mother prepared a small meal before the reaping. Whenever I glance back at her during these types of days she looks almost lost when preparing the meal, just going through the motions.
“What if I am chosen this year?” I say slouched back staring at our home’s ceiling. He looks at me and simply rolls his eyes, “You’re totally screwed” he says holding in a grin. I frown at him. He immediately continues his statement.
“Chip head, even if you are chosen, and you won’t, the skills you have outshine so many of those other tributes. Yes, our district isn’t known for being particularly physically strong…or good at using weapons…or like I suppose outdoor and environmental techniques…”
Wasn’t this supposed to make me feel better? Lord.
“You see the world differently, and many wish they could. And-”
I know he is trying to comfort me, but the way he always starts to ramble on and on bores me to death. It was the same mediocre to decent but mostly mediocre motivational speech he uses every time he tries to give me an ego boost. It seems easy for him.
“Yes, yes I know,” I say softly despite my annoyance hoping he gives up. He flashes a cocky smile convinced that he persuaded me into feeling better. It doesn’t help that in the back of my head I still know that deep down we both know intellect doesn’t save someone when a weapon is drawn upon them.
The three of us moved to the kitchen table where we would eat the corn and grain soup and the rare treat of apple slices our mother prepared. No one addresses the reaping here, we only talk about school and my brother’s work. My mom even teases him about the girl he works with and how this girl apparently has feelings for my brother.
After this, the same sense of dread as before comes back. Standing in front of the door preparing to leave my mother stops me and begins to hug me with tears in her eyes. “This year will be like last year, you won’t get picked darling” she repeats into my hair as she combs out the rest of the forgotten knots with her hands.
The reaping center for District 3 wasn’t the prettiest sight. Although the city hall was a pristine building with white concrete columns, when you look past the city hall the immense poverty of the district engulfs the one grand building. Here, peacekeepers littered every corner of the site holding their guns with eyes ready to shoot at any moment. It doesn’t help that District 3 is one of the more populous districts in Panam, making us fit into this tiny reaping center was absurd. I didn’t realize till my finger was pricked by a peacekeeper checking me in, I was dozing off.
After a few moments of standing in the heat, Chrysa Silvervale arrives yet again for another reaping. Today she was a woman with a bright red dress and gold snake jewelry. Her makeup was almost as blinding as her dress. She wore a complimentary deep shimmery gold eyeshadow with a matching bold gold lip color. She starts her speech with the typical greetings welcoming us to the 41st Annual Hunger Games. After the mandatory speeches from the mayor, and the projected screen showcasing what it means to be a “victor” highlighting the values of the games, I start to drift once again hoping for this to end soon. It doesn’t take much to bring me back to reality when the microphone echoes the name, “Wiress, Wiress Plummer.” All eyes were on me, and my uncertain certainty was now certain for sure. I am a tribute to the 41st Annual Hunger Games.
The overwhelming emotions within me are seen as indifference to the audience as I walk towards the stage with a straight face. I want to scream, cry, yell out but I feel stunted in my emotions. Maybe I was still in shock? Maybe this was not real and another girl was chosen instead. But as I tremble walking up the stairs to face the crowd, seeing my brother’s distraught face being held back by my mother broke me as the tears began welling up in my eyes. I was so focused on them at that moment I didn’t realize the District 3 male tribute was chosen. “Watson Elrod” the woman welcomes him to the stage.
Watson Elrod was someone I didn’t speak to much in school, actually if anything, I barely recall seeing him there. He was someone who was the same age as me, yet had an even more sickly appearance. Watson had ashened brown skin, a slender build, dark tangled wavy hair, and a height that was taller than me but was shorter than what I assume is the average man in Panem.
Despite avoiding eye contact with him, he gave me a warm genuine smile. It was the type of smile that made me forget that in a few days, we would be forced to fight each other to the death. This was so strange to me but I couldn’t help but weakly smile back at him with the tears still beginning to slowly fall from my eyes. We were then both escorted by peacekeepers inside the city hall.
After a few minutes of sitting inside the room, I hear my brother and mother beg the peacekeepers to let them in quickly. As the door slams open, I stand up quickly with my mother hugging me tightly to the point where it hurts. “This is fucked up, I am so sorry Wiress. You were so close to escaping, I am so sorry” my brother repeats as he stammers around the room. I am still silent. For some reason, the words aren’t coming out of my mouth but the slow tears earlier are now gushing down my face. My mother lets go of me and cries sitting in one of the chairs in the room as my brother grabs my shoulders. “Wiress, listen, you are going into the games and you’re going to win” his voice was choking up now but his voice was convinced of what he was saying. As he looked at me tears were now sliding down his face, “Wiress your intuition will save you, when you enter those games you are not a child anymore. Please remember you are so much smarter than the tributes in the arena. Your mind works like an intricate puzzle and it's brilliant, please just try…try to put up a fight” his voice trembles as he attempts to convince me to live.
He didn’t convince me but to ease his worries I simply hug him tightly and nod my head. My brother looks as if he is about to say one more thing until the peacekeepers come in and urge them out. Despite the protests from my brother, the peacekeeper drags them out, raising a baton towards my brother before the door slams in my face.