𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 ✩ 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔦𝔯

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CHAPTER THREE

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Needles were something which had always frightened Odelya, they seemed ever so drastically unnerving. Under what circumstances is having a sharp piece of metal stabbed into your flesh natural or in any way some sort of a positive.

Nevertheless, the needle of which the Capitol used to sample blood for identification when signing for the annual reaping scared her on a completely different and ever so much more dangerous level.

These needles symbolised a sense of control from the increasingly corrupt governmental system which ruled across Panem.

Blood identification was most certainly one of the least of her issues, yet the source of whom controlled what that blood was used for is the one responsible for all the heartache she had ever experienced.

Odelya could only have dreadful nightmares about the villainous nature of her President, for corruption ran through his mind, it was embedded in his genes.

She hadn't the slightest of a clue what they used the sampled blood for, but the mere thought terrified her an extraordinary amount more than needles ever did.

Perhaps, they were used in the development of powerful drugs which would be turned against the Districts? Perhaps, they were used in the manufacture of the Mutts within the arena of the Hunger Games.

Perhaps, they were used to track the publics every movement. Perhaps, instead of taking blood, they injected some sort of substance within them which could cause them to explode at any such moment.

Perhaps, Odelya was just somewhat paranoid.

Row by row stood innocent children. Lined up like cattle sent for the slaughter, which in some sense they were. Blood which ran through their veins would in a matter of weeks be splattered across an unknown arena.

The littlest of the eligible stood at the back, shaking so terribly that Odelya feared they would cause themselves a loss of consciousness. Tracks of tears ran down their porcelain faces and quiet sobs racked their bodies.

The eighteen year olds were not much better off, digging their fingernails into their palms, leaving painful indented crescents on their hands.

A nonsensical video was blasted in the background, it spoke of the rebellion and the treason committed by the District's against the ever so innocent Capitol.

It spoke of the creation of the Hunger Games, which would kill twenty-three descendants of such rebels every year until it became almost impossible to trace their lineage back to one person whom was found guilty of treachery.

Suddenly, there was silence across the Reaping Square, the programme had ended and Tarquinia was about to announce the two children who would soon have their heads on stakes. In some sense, she wished the video would continue, as a way of prolonging her definite safety.

Tarquinia wiped a mocking tear from her eye, as if this was some cinematic masterpiece. Odelya wished that the Capitolite would somehow stop these murderous games, or just get the hell on with it.

"Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour."

Oh, it was such an incredibly stupid well wishing. In what universe could the odds be in their favour when a classmate was being sent to their untimely deaths? What child should have to die a martyr?

"As always, ladies first."

A perfectly manicured hand reached tantalisingly slowly into a glass bowl. Filled was it to the brim with pink slips, each detailed with a young girls name.

"And the female tribute for District Four is... Odelya Castellan."

Any warmth was stripped from her body. Any sound stolen from her ears. Any ability of movement was lost, paralysing her to the ground.

Breathing was a concept foreign to her, air was nonexistent in her lungs. She felt dizzy, as though she would collapse if any feeling would return to her body.

She was suddenly increasingly aware of her blinking. It seemed to be of an annoyingly rapid rate at that moment.

Death loomed over her head. It was imminent, she could almost feel it, taste it, touch it. She had never done so many things of which she had dreamed.

Never had she danced on the shoreline in a white dress on the special day celebrating her and her love. Never had she been in love, well, never had she been in love and had it reciprocated.

Never had she experienced romance, or heartbreak. Never had she been kissed. At least she could say that she had been held in the arms of a boy and felt truly, unequivocally loved and protected.

Odelya was sixteen years old and she was going to die.

Thoughts swirled around her mind: Reign, Orion, Melody.

Reign, that poor boy, he had lost nearly everything before the ripe old age of ten. She couldn't just leave him on this cruel world alone. Yet, alone he would be, for death was her new playmate.

Orion, a second father to her. His dying action was one of pure protection for the second half of his heart. That same person, his twin sister, had an axe in the back of her head just four minutes later.

Melody was an angel with a mere absence of wings. Her beautiful soul had volunteered for her twelve year old sister what felt like a lifetime ago. Despite it being just four years prior. She had fought ever so bravely for her. She had died in such a gruesome manner for her.

She had died for nothing.

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