ANOTHER COG IN THE MURDER MACHINE | FINNICK ODAIR

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷

Warnings for this chapter: mentions of suicide.

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I chew on my cheek, looking at myself in the mirror. I'm wearing a short burgundy dress that had once belonged to my mother, my hair styled as two braids that connected in the back and flowed into a tail– Mama called it a 'waterfall braid'. The outfit is paired with black flats and my signature bear necklace.

I still remember when my father first carved the pendant for me when I was 12 years old, back when I started having my name put into the bowl at the Reapings. Back when there first started being a chance that I would be sent into the arenas.

"Dad, what's this?" I asked him, holding up the wooden carving.

"It's a bear, dear. They usually stay in the forests around 12, but my father used to tell me tales of the time one showed up in 10. The Peacekeepers ended up having to kill it and it fed the people here for a good week. That's why my parents gave me the name Mato– it means bear."

I smile weakly at the memory, squeezing the carving in my hand to reassure myself that everything was going to be okay.

Today would be my second Reaping where a sheet of paper with my name on it would be in that giant glass bowl, though it was only going to be in there a mere two times. I'm the only child of my mother and father, and even if we were struggling I knew that my parents would refuse to have me sign up for tesserae.

Most families weren't as lucky as we were.

I followed the same 'routine' as last year, saying goodbye to all the sheep within my care and my favorite cow, Clara-Belle, before Reaping Day in case I would be the girl to get my name drawn. It seemed only fair for the animals to have that possible final moment with me, since it's likely that no one would tell them if I got pulled into the arena.

I remember when one of my friends, Gracie, was sent into the Games when we were both just 12. She had worn a friendship bracelet that I had woven for her into the arena, one with a nice blue, green and purple pattern. By the end of the Games the bracelet was completely red, and Gracie's parents didn't come out of their house for a while. My mother brought them bread and soup after the Games, saying how sorry she was that they had lost their daughter. They had told her not to worry about them, that they were coping with the loss.

I had helped Mama clean up the broken alcohol bottles a week later, finding it hard not to cry at the sight of Gracie's parents' bodies even when Mama said that they were in a better place with Gracie now.

As tears fill my eyes, I try to remind myself that they at least got to be buried next to their daughter.

"Are you ready, bear cub?" Dad asks me, leaning in the doorway as I inspect myself in the mirror one last time.

He himself wore a black leather jacket mixed with navy jeans and black dress shoes– also leather, since our District takes care of livestock and it's one of the easiest materials to get. Mama stood beside him wearing her brown plaid dress with a white long-sleeved shirt under it and black flats just like me. Both of their typical Reaping Day outfits. We were supposed to dress all fancy and nice for it, but that's a lot easier said than done in the poorer Districts, where we didn't exactly have tuxedos and fancy dresses at the ready in our wardrobes.

"Yeah," I answer, turning away from the mirror fully and taking a deep breath to try and calm my nerves. "I'm ready."

The process before the actual Reaping went by fairly quick. An official will poke my finger with a needle and press the bloody tip down on a piece of paper before I'll go stand in a line that is divided by gender and marked by age. Then a video will play on the giant screen of President Snow talking about the First Rebellion and what the infamous Hunger Games were implemented for, just like he does every year. We'll listen or half-listen– though that's mostly just the older kids who had gone through this process a million times over– to the speech until the mayor introduced the District escort, who comes forward and makes some comment or another about the video.