The Quarter Quell

One || The Announcement

I always wear simple clothes. It's just a part of my charm. My stylist had told me that the Capitol and the districts need someone they can relate to and apparently doing that requires me to wear simple clothes. I didn't particularly mind - I preferred it to all of the itchy clothes which I know my father needs to wear every day.

Unfortunately, I haven't been given the option of simple clothing today - instead I am forced to wear uncomfortable clothes which I normally never have to wear. I have already taken off my blazer as it was much too hot. The white dress shirt which I had been told to wear is scratchy against my skin. My tie has been done too tightly and I feel as if I'm suffocating. My pants feel restricting and it's difficult to walk.

Everything about my outfit is uncomfortable and I remind myself to scold whoever it has that has chosen my clothes.

I fidget nervously in my seat, drumming my fingers against the wooden box which I have been given. It has been a while since I have come to the headquarters - generally, my father tries to prevent any association with me and the Hunger Games. Understandable but there are still times in which even he can't stop it despite his authority as president.

I look up from the box. My father - Coriolanus Snow, the President of Panem, looks exactly like me.

He has the same blonde hair, though his hair is more silky and streaked with grey. I have his blue eyes - so astonishingly bright. I have inherited all of his features, his straight nose, his high cheekbones and his defined jawline. I was tall and lean. But then my features are fuller and more noticeable. I didn't have the black bags which hang under his eyes.

I am younger and more attractive. I think he resents me sometimes because of it - I remind him too much of his youth and judging by how he reacts whenever I try to ask him of his childhood, it isn't something he particularly likes remembering.

I think sometimes he wishes that I looked like my mother and not him. He despises her but he hates himself slightly more. Only slightly.

I watch as he thinks. He has a way of commanding authority - his very presence demands attention. He speaks clearly and loudly - talking about the importance of the Hunger Games. He reminds them of the Dark Days and the destruction of the District Thirteen. Everyone hangs onto his every word.

'So,' he finishes, with a smile on his face that seems entirely too fake, 'to celebrate, we have decided to implement the Quarter Quell which will be held every twenty-five years of the Hunger Games.'

Applause rings through the room. And I stand up, recognising the que. I step forward onto the stage with my father, holding out the wooden box which I have been given. He carefully lifts the lid and picks up the first envelope on the pile - the envelope which is marked for the twenty-fifth anniversary.

'For the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games,' he echoes, slipping his finger under the seal, 'the first Quarter Quell,' he opens the envelope and pulls out the piece of paper inside, 'as a reminder to rebels,' he unfolds the paper, 'that no one can escape punishment...' His voice trails off as a frown appears on his forehead. '...the Capitol will have to provide a tribute for the Hunger Games.'

I swallow.

'The Capitol tribute will play the game as any other tribute.' My father looks pale - remarkably pale. It makes me wonder if he knew of the contents of the envelope beforehand. 'However, if the Capitol tribute lives to final two, neither tributes need not die for they will both be declared victors.'

His hands are trembling. I have never seen my father like this - he's always so calm and collected. It's strange to see him so... nervous. He's tugging uncomfortably at the cuffs of his sleeves

'Every Capitol citizen of the correct age must enter the required amount of slips for the reaping. There are no exceptions.'

I take a shaky breath. I hope this is a dream - but if it's not a dream, then that means this is real. That I have a chance of ending up in the Hunger Games. That for once it's not only the District tributes' suffering I have to tolerate, but I have to watch someone from the Capitol, perhaps even someone I know, die in the arena.

Because I know that no one from the Capitol will survive in the arena. The Hunger Games isn't for the weak and as much as they may try to disguise it, the Capitol is weak. And even if who is selected isn't weak, how will they stand a chance against twenty-four other tributes all of whom will try to kill them because the Districts hate the Capitol. Not only will they be outmatched, but outnumbered too. There is no chance of survival.

And if I am reaped - I don't even want to think of what will happen to me. Because if I am trapped in an arena with twenty-four district tributes all of whom are armed and hate my father - I am probably going to face something which is worse than death.

All I can do is pray because for the first time, I am a part of the reaping pool.