Safe and Sound || Hunger Games

Chapter Two - The Reaping

"I love it, thank you, thank you so much." I whispered in amazement as I stroked the material. My mother beamed at me then bent down and pulled out something from underneath her bed. She held a pair of plain, black flats with little bows on them to me. I took them and slipped them onto my feet. I wiggled my toes about in them, beaming at how my feet looked somewhat attractive instead of bony and frankly, almost scary. I looked up at my mother, not able to thank her enough, but she hadn't quite finished with me yet.

* * *

After fifteen minutes of tugging a brush through my hair mercilessly, my mother had managed to pull my hair into a high ponytail and had wrapped a piece of hair around the hairband, disguising it so it looked like I had tied my hair up with my own hair. It looked elegant and tidy yet the actual ponytail was wavy, like it actually had some form of texture and life. I loved it, but I had suspicions about my mother's kindness.

I did one last twirl for my parents to find them both beaming at me. For once in my life, I actually felt a little bit beautiful. My father couldn't beam, but he was near enough for me to work out that he was proud of me. I smiled at my parents, feeling as if I was a normal child that wasn't going to be put forward to become a vicious, insane monster. It then occurred to me, all normal children and teenagers were put forward to become vicious insane monsters. That dampened my spirits, but only slightly. My mother then got up and declared it was time for breakfast. She left the room and I was about to follow her, but I was cut off by a weak voice saying my name.

"Harper...co-come here." I turned around to see my father trying to prop himself up enough to talk to me. I hurried over to him and sat next to him, pushing him back down gently, in case he hurt himself by straining his body too much.

"Yes, father?" I asked, holding his hand and rubbing it with my thumb. My father managed to reach out and hold the side of my face. He stroked my cheek slightly, a proud glint evident in his eye as his cold fingers touched my warm skin.

"M-my beautiful daughter, p-please. I be-beg you. All I a-ask is f-for you to co-come home tonight, do n-not get chosen. Do n-not get chosen. I refuse to s-spend my dau-daughter's sixteenth b-birthday watching h-her fight to the de-death." My father said, struggling to form words in his mouth. He was so weak and it hurt me seeing him in this way. I could feel tears coming along, but I held them back. I had to show my father I was strong.

"Father, I cannot prevent myself from being chosen, but I know I will come home tonight. I have to. If I do, which is very likely, I will go out and get you three of those rabbits that I got you a couple of days ago. And a squirrel. If I could, I might even try and get some seasoning and goat's cheese from the Hob by collecting some berries. Father, whatever happens, I want you to keep fighting and to not give in to this illness. Do you promise?" I said to him, pleading with him. My father's eyes were wet and mine felt slightly damper than usual too, but we both fought back, trying to push those unwanted tears back into our tear ducts. I squeezed his hand once more and my father did his best to squeeze back.

"Harper!" My mother's shrill cry rang up the stairs, "I made you some breakfast! Leftover carrot soup, delicious!" I sighed to myself, feeling rather exasperated yet grateful towards my mother. She really was making an effort today, but she had just broken a special moment between my father and I.

"Coming mother!" I called back, before turning to my father once more, "Do you promise?" I demanded of him again. I kept my voice soft, but firm. My father nodded slowly, the tears seeming to be threatening to fall more than ever.

"I-I do." He said. With that, I hugged him as gently as I could, got up, kissed his cheek and eventually made my way downstairs to eat my slither of cold, carrot soup, hoping my father would be able to keep to his hastily made promise.