I Want What I Can't Have

Reaped Again

It broke my heart once again to leave my two friends. Johanna and I caught the train home at dusk so we wouldn't be seen by anyone. We'd be seeing Finnick soon anyway. I just wished it wasn't for the circumstances it was for.

"You fell asleep in his arms the other night," she said.

"Hmm?" I said, pretending I wasn't interested.

"You and Finnick fell asleep together," she repeated.

"Oh yeah," I said, "I had a nightmare."

"But...." She coaxed.

"But?" I questioned.

"You like him," she said.

"Of course I do, he's my best friend," I replied.

"You know what I mean Flaire," Johanna smirked.

"No, no I don't like him. I love him. Ever since I've laid eyes on him I knew I was in love. Everything about him is just... it can't be explained it's so phenomenal. He is my everything and it hurts my heart when I see him with others. I think I'm not good enough. And maybe I'll never be, not for the one man I want." I said.

"Flaire," Johanna murmured, "if I had known before..."

"It's okay Jo, really," I smiled.

"I feel horrible," she exclaimed.

"Don't," I laughed, "it's the story of my life."

***
I arrived in 8 and just went straight to bed. Something about the journey had tired me out and I needed the sleep. But no matter how long I lay in the fluffy duvet my eyes wouldn't close and my brain wouldn't shut off. I felt so empty and lonely, the feelings weren't new but it didn't make them hurt any less. Before I knew it, I needed to get ready for the Reaping. Even though I was going to get picked there was a whole ceremony involved. Stupid. I forced myself to open my wardrobe doors and shove some clothes on before walking into the Reaping. The air was tense and angry. The people were tense and angry. They wanted the rebellion and I was going to help them get it. I took my place on the small platform.

"Ladies first," Amaryllis said, her Capitol accent thick.

A bowl lay there with a singular sheet of paper dancing at the bottom, suddenly causing a rush of... well I don't know what to come over me, taking me back to my last Reaping.

"Ladies first as always," Amaryllis grinned, strutting over to the glass bowl.

My name had only been put in there six times, the minimum I had to. I knew girls that had out their names in over fifty times. My odds were low but never say never. I held my breath, my chest suddenly filling with dread as I began to really think it could be me. She put her hand into the glass her thin fingers walking across the pieces of paper. She delve to one of the bottom pieces and plucked it out.

"Flaire Lockshot," she said.

My ears began to ring and my heart pounded in my chest. I had been chosen and I was going to die.

"NO!" I heard my sister scream, "PLEASE, SHE'S SIXTEEN!"

"Holly," my brother murmured, "the game makers might target her if you make it hard for her now."

I glanced over to my mother who had tears streaming down her cheeks. She'd almost gotten through with none of her children getting reaped. My sister was now also crying and I could see tears in my brother's eyes which shocked me out of my mind. He never ever cried. I mustered up the courage to walk up onto the platform next to the crazy Capitol lady, Amaryllis, who then called out the male tribute. I wasn't listening. All I was thinking was the same five words over and over and over. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die.

I was snapped back to reality when Amaryllis called my name and gripped my arm as she led me closer to her. Then she walked over and picked out the one piece of paper in the male tribute bowl. Cotton. Yes you read it right. I think his parents may have taken the District slightly to seriously. Okay we are the textiles District but Cotton... really? He was my mentor. Well I say mentor but he was no help at all. I was genuinely surprised he hadn't died yet.

"Our two tributes," she yelled, as peacekeepers dragged me away from my home.

I had no one to say goodbye to this time. That what hurt the most.

***
I spent the journey alone in my room choosing to talk to no one. I liked being alone. I liked crying alone. It was easier.

***
I spotted Finnick as I got in the door and we shared a wave before he was dragged away by bus stylist. Luckily, I felt a cold finger tap my shoulder and I spun around to find Johanna.

"Hey," she smiled.

"Hello, you alright?" I asked.

She shrugged, "as okay as I can be."

"I just can't believe it's gonna be us this year," I sighed.

"Let's just stick to the plan," she said.

At that moment my stylist, Clo, ushered me into a little room, as I gave an apology and a goodbye to Johanna. She instructed me to lay down. She then proceeded to wax my underarms and legs. It really didn't hurt that much anymore, even though my legs were left red raw. She then focussed on my make up. She applied a thick layer of blue eye shadow adding a flick with the eyeliner. She then put lip gloss on my lips and instructed me not to touch ANYTHING. So naturally I fiddled about with EVERYTHING. She came back in with my dress. It was a mixture of blue fabrics all different shades and materials. It was weird, but not as horrific as I thought. She quickly brushed out all of my hair and sprayed some blue glitter into it. My hair fell now to below my bum and she usually did something extravagant with it but she didn't today (thank god). Then she helped me into my dress and I was ready. The 75th Hunger Games Parade here I come...

***
Hope you got a little bit more of an idea of Flaire's Reaping for her Hunger Games if you were interested!
Thanks for reading ❤️❤️❤️
Rosabella xx