The Eleventh Hunger Games~ A Mags Fanfic

Chapter One: The Reaping

Chapter One

The reaping

A cool, salty breeze sweeps through the crowd of people; a sea of staring eyes directed at me. "Are you going up or not?" someone behind me quietly urges. Just take a deep breath, Mags. Breathe and count to three. A bead of sweat forms on my brow, my heart leaping into my throat. One. Impossible. One slip of paper, among thousands. Two. I blink a few times, then gulp. Three. Without replying, I carefully pick my way through the mass of 16-year-old girls and find myself climbing the stairs to the podium. Basia, District Four's Hunger Games escort, stands waiting, giving me a gold, toothy grin, a hand outstretched.

"Ah! Glad to have you on board Miss Flanagan!" He gleams as the crowd, some groaning about my weak appearance, claps. Blinking away any oncoming tears, I nervously scan the crowd for my parents. And there they are, just two heads among thousands of others. The breeze slips between my long dirty blonde hair, tickling my neck. I breath in the familiar smell of the ocean that lay ahead in the distance, crisp and, for once, empty of boats and swimmers. Basia's thick, Capital accent breaks my trance. "Now, onto the boys." Reaching into one of the two giant fish bowls he grabs yet another small slip of paper. "Lorem Achen." There is a profuse amount cheering as the 18-year-old body builder plants himself next to Basia, failing at hiding his smile. We briefly shake hands, and I stare into the eyes of my new opponent, who used to simply be the guy that helped harvest oysters. But now, now he is a death threat; someone who could easily snap my neck in less than a second.

I glance at the doors that trap me in the small, elegant room. My mind races. It's hard to believe that this could be the last time to see my friends and family, ever again. I wipe my nervous, sweaty hands on my plain white dress. District Four's Eleventh annual Hunger Games tributes! Basia's ecstatic voice rings through my head. Tribute. "I'm a tribute." I say under my breath. The words taste fowl in my mouth. I stare at myself in the large mirror, my big, deep brown eyes buttons on my ghostly face, with red, tear tracks running down and onto the luxurious carpet. Just then the door bursts open, and my parents come rushing in, and I know for a fact that one of them is here for an entirely different purpose. My mother and I embrace in a tight hug, but I know the clock is ticking, and there is never enough time for saying goodbye. We sit down on the couch, my father kneeling before me with an expression that is quite disturbing. He is smiling.

"I'm so proud of you, Mags. I've never said this, but ever since the Games started, I secretly wanted my child to become a tribute-to win." After seeing the shocked, disgusted looks on my mother and I's face, he quickly adds, "I know, I know, what a horrible thing to say, but do you realize all of the fame and riches we will get? Mags, when you win, your mother and I will never have to work again! That means we can spend more time with you! Don't you want that?"

I find myself staring into the eyes of an unknown man. I've never really liked my father; with his greedy need for money and foreign Capitol galore, but using his own daughter to reach that sick level of insanity is just plain evil, and glancing at my mother, I know that she thinks the same as well.

"How dare you say such things, Bernard?! This is your daughter we are talking about! Do you not realize that she could get murdered in two weeks?" She chokes, brings her hand up, damp from wiping the tears off her face, and slaps him hard on the cheek. And then there is silence, so thick I can almost feel it stuffing my ears, and I don't like it. Not when there is only 60 seconds remaining. I stand up and face my parents.

Holding back my tears, I say, "Look, even though this has gone off on the wrong foot, I don't want it to end like this." I take a deep breath. "I have about 60 seconds left, and as far as I know, this is the last I will ever see of you two, and I certainly don't want to go into the arena thinking that the last thing we talked about was deception." I stare at my father, who had finally stood up and is currently leaning against the wall, a bright red handprint still on his cheek; he looks down with sorrowful eyes.

I sigh. "Anyway, I just want to say-" I give a small choke, then continue. "I just want to say thank you for always being there for me and taking care of me" and suddenly the words start to spill out, "and for teaching me how to fish and be polite and kind and-" tears stream down my face, my mother gathering me into another tight, unbreakable hug, her face mirroring mine. We hold each other, and all too soon, the peacekeepers barge in and tear us apart, herding my parents out of the room, "No! Mom! Dad! No!" I frantically race towards the door, reaching for my mother's struggling, outstretched hands. One more word, one more reassuring hug that would tell me that it's going to all be okay. But the Peacekeepers slam the door, and there I cry, standing alone, once more.

* * * * *

The door opens again, and there stands May, eyebrows pulled tightly into a painful expression.

"Mags." She breathes. Without a word, she pulls me into a tight hug. But I wasn't going to let this happen again. Not this time.

"May," I whispered, reluctantly pulling away from her. "What am I going to do? What's going to happen?" Too many questions in such little time. She simply hushes and drags me to the velvet sofa in the corner of the room.

"That-that's what your mentor is for, Mags. It's okay. Just....don't underestimate yourself. You're stronger than you think." She smiles. Suddenly a fiery ball of anger bursts within me.

"It's Okay? Of course it's not okay, May! I'm about to go into an arena where there are more ways to kill me than there are catching those stupid shrimp!" My voice rises to a yell. "You aren't the one who has two weeks left to live! So no. It's not okay." I crossed my arms and turned my back from her. How could she even say that? She's supposed to be my friend. It's her job to be my extra mind.

"You know that's not what I meant, Mags." She sighs. "Look, we have about two minutes left of seeing each other. Do you really want to spend it facing that stupid door with steam practically firing from your nose?" repeating the same words that came from my mouth only a moment ago. And just like that, it disappeared, that tangled knot of hate. She is right. She always is. I turn around to face her again.

"No. Of course not. I-I-" I stammer, another pile of tears brimming on my eyes; they will just never end. "I'm sorry, May." Memories of the two of us fishes in through my mind. Us swimming in the warm, deep blue ocean that rests along most of District Four, splashing each other, the salt stinging our eyes. "May, I-I don't know what to do..." I say so quietly, I think she almost hasn't heard me. But she does, and replies with yet another hug. Lots of hugs today. Probably the last I'll ever receive. Suddenly I feel a cold hand.

In comes the Peacekeepers, and out goes May with them, a goodbye and a "good luck" trailing behind her. I clutch my sides and sit down on the sofa. The next two weeks are going to be torture, followed by even more torture. It will be like getting run over by a train, then getting run over by another one right after. Welcome to the Hunger Games, where even death is a better option than whatever lays ahead. But one thing's for certain, it won't be good.

-

So, how was the first Chapter? Shall I do Chapter two? :)