ACT I. CHAPTER IV. ❛ Our Day of Reckoning ❜ tw. mentions of vomit, death, disease, poverty. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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She wakes up in a pool of her own sweat, sun blinding her before she's even opened her eyes. Her heart thunders against her ribs painfully.
Her hair is sticking to her forehead, and nausea ebbs over her in waves. Verena lies there, slightly sticky, vaguely dizzy. The window is open but there is no breeze.
Even the skies know what day it is.
Rising, reluctantly, she pulls the thin sheet back over the bed, trying to create some semblance of order. She can't stop her hands from trembling.
She looks out her Reaping clothes. They are the last pieces of her old life, the fabric thick and the garment well-made. She folds the dress delicately and leaves it on the bed.
Pops is already awake. She can hear him in the kitchen. It is the one day a year he makes breakfast for them all. It is the one day a year he is home to make breakfast for them all.
Verena doesn't have the heart to go and talk to him. Not yet. She goes to the second bedroom, just to find Felix and Freya curled up in the same bed, Felix tucked up neatly and Freya sprawled across the small space. She smiles fondly and really looks at them.
Her stomach hurts, twisting sharply. She gasps softly.
This tiny breath wakes Felix, and his movement wakes Freya. They look at her. They're barely awake, unaware of what time it is, of what's coming. Verena is struck with a sick jealousy.
"Go draw a bath," she whispers into the room, "you need to get ready."
Freya realises first and scarpers. She hangs around the doorway to look at Verena.
Verena stares firmly at a crack in the wall.
She steals a glance at Felix, but cannot bare it any longer. She leaves the room before she vomits. The smell of leftover beef emanating from the kitchen is doing nothing to stop the bile rising in her throat.
She slides down the wall, resting her chin on her knees as she breathes. The wood of the floor is rotting, leaving holes between floorboards, allowing a slight draught to cool her still damp skin. Goosebumps erupt down her shins despite the sweat.
Verena doesn't know how long she sits there, but she opens her eyes to find Felix standing over her, blond curls dull with water. "Your turn." He has no joy in his voice.
Everything is blurry, and she wonders vaguely if Flynt is going through the same thing. The lukewarm water does little to calm her. She hums an old lullaby Ma used to sing, desperately trying to loosen the shackles on her lungs. She doesn't remember the words properly; something about roses being red, violets being blue. She just remembers how beautiful it sounded, and how loved she felt.
