Nova Wilde a well liked victor meets the capitol darling Finnick Odair before her games begin. They find comfort and warmth in each other and grow a special bond after her games. How will their relationship blossom?
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Each second passed with an audible tick. The reaping would begin soon.
The house was silent, as if we'd all entered some unspoken agreement that if anyone spoke, the world might shatter.
I bit my lip, staring at the clock. Tick. Tick. Tick.
My gaze drifted around the room, studying everyone's faces, their stiff postures. Mum held her head high, but the blood pressed beneath her fingernails betrayed her. I was sure that if I checked her palms, I'd find crescent-shaped marks dug deep into her skin.
Dad sat hunched over a book, Ember tucked close at his side. He read, but I doubted he was absorbing a single word—like he was trying to steal every second he could with her, just in case.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ember reached for my hand, gripping it tightly as we made our way out of the door. A large crowed was seen walking a little ahead, toward the justice building.
Mum and dad pulled us both into a heartwarming embrace and told Ember and I not to worry. Dad squeezed my shoulder before turning around and parting with us.
I dragged Ember over into one of the many single file lines and placed my hands on either side of her shoulders, trying to comfort her. Embers breathing was becoming uneven and her hands were beginning to shake.
"Ember you're going to be fine, they just prick your finger and then send you on your way." I whispered, trying to keep my voice calm.
The line shuffled forward inch by inch, boots scuffing against the stone as Peacekeepers barked orders none of us needed to hear. When it was our turn, Ember's fingers slipped from mine, her hand lingering like she might change her mind and run.
She stepped up to the table, jaw clenched, eyes fixed straight ahead as the needle flashed under the lights. She didn't cry out when it pricked her skin, just sucked in a sharp breath as a bead of red welled up and was pressed onto the paper, sealing her name among thousands of others.
I watched as she walked over to the other 12 year olds, her face pale but resolute, and for a moment—just a moment—I let myself believe the odds would be kind.
As I stepped to the table my jaw tensed. "Finger out," the lady sitting at the desk stated in a cold, monotone voice. I didn't even flinch as my finger was pricked and was ushered forward by peacekeepers . As I started to slowly walk over to the 16 year old section my eyes scanned the crowd for Ember.
I wandered through the crowd and finally made it over to the girls my age. Gazing up my eyes caught onto the district 5 escort, Octavia. Her platinum blonde hair had been curled round her face into tight ringlets. She had vibrant eye makeup and a bright pink dress on that poofed out at the sides with a long train following behind in a sheer material. My face scrunched in disgust as I kept inspecting her appearance.
