Chapter Text
The sun blazes high in the sky, casting harsh shadows across the town square as I hold Prim’s trembling hand. She’s so scared that she’ll be reaped, regardless of any reassurances I’ve tried to give her. Her fear seeps into me, making my heart pound like a drum in my chest.
My sister’s straw-colored hair is tightly secured into two short braids. She’s dressed in her best clothes—a crisp cotton shirt and a blue skirt that matches her eyes and reaches to her knees, the fabric rustling softly as she moves. Her shoes, freshly cleaned, kick up small puffs of coal dust from the cracked pavement.
I guide Prim to the group of girls, and she walks toward her age group, looking back at me with wide eyes. The crowd is a sea of anxious faces, the tension feeling like a physical weight pressing down on us.
Everyone’s trepidation is palpable as Effie Trinket slowly ascends the stage, her high heels clicking sharply against the wooden planks. Her outfit is a garish explosion of color and glitter, each sequin catching the sunlight and blinding us. Her pale skin is powdered to an unnatural degree, giving her the appearance of a porcelain doll.
Here in District 12, with mostly Reds around, Effie looks so out of place. People like her, Silvers, belong in the unnatural environment of the Capitol. They are creatures of excess and privilege, just like the Peacekeepers.
Most Peacekeepers are Strongarms, meaning their ability is their enhanced strength. In last year’s Blood Games, I watched a Strongarm woman bend a tribute, cracking every bone, until he died. I’ll never forget the 14-year-old boy’s dying screams of agony.
The Peacekeepers stand guard, ready to force the selected tributes into large silver cages, treating us like animals. Which is fitting because it’s how they see us.
Please don’t let it be Prim. Please don’t let it be Gale. Please don’t let it be me.
“Ladies first!” Effie’s voice trills with a blinding smile, her perfect teeth gleaming.
Please don’t let it be Prim. Please don’t let it be Prim. Please don’t let it be Prim. Please anyone but Prim.
Effie dips her perfectly manicured hand into the large glass bowl, the slips of paper inside rustling like dry leaves. She pulls out a name with a flourish, and unfolds it slowly, savoring the moment.
“Primrose Everdeen!”
The world seems to stop. The air leaves my lungs, and everything blurs as my vision narrows to Prim, her eyes wide with shock and fear. I hear nothing but the roaring in my ears, and my body moves on its own, pushing through the crowd to reach her.
“Prim!” I hear myself shriek.
She turns to me, clearly in a daze.
What do I do? What do I do?
“Take me instead! Please take me!” I shout desperately at Effie.
Effie's smile vanishes and her mouth twists into a look of disdain.
“That is not how it works,” Effie Trinket snaps. “Primrose Everdeen. You have been selected as District 12’s female tribute for the 74th Blood Games. You must ascend the stage at this moment, or I will instruct the Peacekeepers to escort you.”
Prim looks back at me, her eyes wide with terror but filled with a flicker of courage. “I love you, Katniss,” she whispers, barely audible over the whispers of the crowd.
My sister walks slowly, her small frame dwarfed by the imposing Peacekeepers on either side of her. Her legs are shaking as she walks away from me toward Effie. Toward her death.
I should be feeling helpless. Sad. Broken-hearted. That’s the purpose of the Blood Games. There’s nothing a person can do.
But I don’t. Instead, I feel a surge of fiery anger. They cannot take my sister. Little Primrose doesn’t deserve this, none of these children do. And for what? For Silvers to emphasize their power over us?
“No!” I shriek, holding my hands out as I feel a fire build up inside me. My rage bubbles until I feel my palms warm pleasantly and I feel… for the first time in my life… powerful.
I hear screams of fear, but my vision is tunneled in on the Peacekeepers grabbing Prim.
Out of nowhere, a blast of fire emerges, and I see the man to the left of Prim fall. Flames engulf him, his white uniform quickly turning to charred ash. Gasps and cries of shock ripple through the crowd, but my focus remains on my sister.
The Peacekeeper on the right releases Prim, backing away with wide eyes, his face a mask of fear and confusion. Prim stumbles, her bright eyes darting between me and the blazing figure on the ground.
“Let her go!” I shout, my voice reverberating with a strength I never knew I possessed. My hands are still warm, almost burning, and I feel the power coursing through me like a living entity.
Effie stares at me, her painted face slack with shock. The remaining Peacekeepers hesitate, their usual confidence shattered. They’ve never faced anything like this, a display of power from a Red. Because that fire… that fire is… mine . But it can't be- Reds don't have abilities.
“I said, let her go!” I repeat, my voice echoing across the silent square.
The Peacekeeper nearest to Prim finally steps back, raising his hands in surrender. Prim stands there, frozen, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe.
“Come here, Prim,” I urge, softening my tone. “Come to me.”
She stumbles forward, and I rush to meet her, pulling her into a tight embrace. My heart pounds in my chest, the fire within me still simmering but controlled. I feel the eyes of the entire district on me, a mix of fear, admiration, and hope.
But suddenly, I feel a coldness overtake me, as if all the heat and fire have been drained from my body. My vision starts to blur, the edges darkening. Panic seizes me as my legs give out. I reach for Prim, but the world tilts and spins.
I hear Prim's voice, faint and terrified, calling my name. “Katniss! Katniss!”
The last thing I see is the sky above, the harsh sun now seeming so distant, as darkness closes in around me. Then, everything fades to black.