Inevitable | PJO

Annabeth

POV: Annabeth Chase

I can't say anything.
I think I'm in shock.
Maybe I died when the called my name - peacefully.
Maybe it's just a nightmare.
So why can't I wake up?

It was so... Surreal. The way I was lead up on stage. How I was lead to a tiny, plush room to say my goodbyes. When my dad came in, telling me how proud he was of me. It's exactly like a dream. From the moment when Thalia was whispering to me, safe in the assumption that the both of us would be eating sweets from the town centre before the day was out.
But I'll never taste those sweets again. Or talk to Thalia.
Everything from then to now, where I'm sitting on the train, Sherman sprawled over a red velvet sofa to the left, Dionysus missing in action, and our mentor, Artemis, impatiently counting the seconds until the reruns of the Reapings are shown. I don't want to watch the Reapings. I'll be dead too soon for it to matter anyway. Too dead to worry about who wins, who dies, who goes home broken. Either mentally or physically. I don't care.

The wall-sized television flickers to life, images of past victors flashing up on the screen. All of Panem will be watching. Whether in relief or tears, it all depended on the Reapings. Artemis directs our attention to the programme, where they're showing district 1. I don't want to know who was picked.
I'll be dead I want to scream. I don't care!! Or want to have to keep saying this!
But out of pure interest, I watch anyway.

A middle-aged man with stormy eyes and a thick beard stood erect on the stage, his preposterously adorned suit rippling in the breeze.
His hand dipped into the boys reaping ball. He played around with the slips, flicking several aside, almost choosing some, before dropping them.
Finally, one slip was drawn out.
Pristine. Unopened .
Deadly.
The Capitol man read it out, in a deep voice matching the fire in his eyes.
It's rare that you see something like that in the eyes of Capitol freaks.
He reads out the name.
It echoes, like the many names read out in previous years.
The boy in question shuffled up to the stage, fear and shock evident on his face.
I've never felt so sorry for anyone.
He's soon joined by a young girl with curly, cinnamon-toast coloured hair. She jogs up, fist clenched, tears threatening to spill out her caramel eyes.
And just like that, Frank Zhang and Hazel Levesque are lead away.

I blink. Two people lead to their deaths. Artemis and Sherman don't even look bothered. The latter still has his stupid grin on his face.

"District two" the screen announces.

Now I have to watch me.

It's bearable, just about. I watch Sherman's stupid victory dance, spot Thalia's black crop in the crowd, see myself break down on the stage and get lead away howling. My eyes scan the crowd thirstily, attempting to take in every last bit of home they can muster.
But it's gone too quickly.

I don't watch the other Reapings as meticulously. But I do end up remembering most of the tributes, by face at least.
There's a elvish-faced boy with crazy curly hair and a trouble grin from 3, the girl from 4, Reyna, has eyes like volcanic rock. Her district partner, Per-something kept his head down. I'm thinking it was because his dirty outfit contrasted so badly with those of the others in his district. His sea-green eyes glared at everyone unlucky enough to cross him. There was a blue-eyed boy and a surprisingly beautiful girl from 5, the former going by Jason. A pale boy with a deathly black, shoulder-length shag from 6, glaring worse than the boy from 4. His black suit hung of his skinny shoulder blades and almost tripped him up on his way to the stage. Someone cried for him. Someone in the crowd of adults. He didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn't care.

The names were coming too thick and fast by then, a blur of tears, brave faces and stupid Capitol voices. The male tribute for 7 had a brother in the crowd. The camera showed them clinging together, before the younger one was lead up onto that platform. The girl from 8 had cat-like eyes. The girl from 11 kicked the Peacekeepers, whereas her counterpart, Will something-or-other, just burst out crying. The boy from 12 looked half starved, his pale-blue eyes yearning for what he was so obviously starved of. He snarled as he was lead up on stage.

As soon as the Reapings ended, Artemis flicked the switch, cutting out the bright colour, swishing her legs around on the velvet sofa.
"I see you were writing that down Annabeth!" She smiled.
How can you possibly smile?
"Tactics." I stated dully. "Know one's enemy."
"Only too right.", our mentor muttered, clouds passing over her previously perky eyes.
"Sorry?"
"That's correct!" She smiled again. Fake for definite this time. "Do you want me to replay that for you, so that you get a better idea of-"
"Sorry." I interjected again. " I actually think I'll just go and lie down..."
Before I'd even finished the sentence, I was out the door and halfway down the train.

Hell.
Hell. On Earth.
I really can't do this.