Chapter 1: The Beginning
Chapter Text
The sun peeks through my windows, blinding me slightly as I open my eyes to another morning. Although this isn’t just any morning. It’s reaping day. I squint and attempt to shield my eyes from the sunlight peeking through the small cracks in the curtains. I sigh. A good thing about reaping day is the fact that you get to sleep in. Other than that…? It’s a pretty shit day if you end up getting reaped. I try to close my eyes to get some more shuteye but the birds have started singing a sweet melody. I sigh. I’m not going to be able to have a lie in this morning. I’m up now, might as well feed the birds and take care of my chores for the morning. Usually, the reaping ceremony doesn’t start until around 1 o’clock, which gives me enough time to feed the birds and clean myself up and possibly practice the guitar mother gave me for my 16th birthday last year before heading to the reaping at 12. I stretch and get up and out of bed and make my bed, pulling on a pair of trousers and a shirt. I never really was one for dresses. I’ve always much preferred trousers. I look in the old cracked mirror at my reflection, my mismatched eyes staring back at me, one icy blue, the other emerald green. I have a faint scar over the bridge of my nose from when I was younger. I had a run-in with a ridiculously large and thick tree branch. I had a concussion for days. I brush my waist length plum colored hair and tie it up in a neat-ish bun. I can already hear people chopping wood early down at the chopping blocks at the treeline of the woods that surround our district.
I pull on a pair of black boots my father got me from the Hob three years ago and head out of my room. I pass by the kitchen and see a small loaf of grainy bread made from the wheat that gets sent to the districts. I take a slice and head out of the house, grabbing a handful of birdseed on my way out. As I walk out, I’m immediately greeted with the distinctive scent of pine, dirt, and rain. There are a few clouds still hanging in the sky after last night’s storm. I breathe deeply. I’ve always loved the smell of rain. As I walk to the woods, I pass a chopping area; one of the many large, cleared out spaces with dark chopping blocks set out sparsely. There was a tiny shed nearby filled with axes of all kinds to chop the wood. I pass a few boys chopping wood early to get it over and done with, piling the chopped wood into little piles. I start to head into the woods. It’s quiet here. Almost peaceful. The birds sing sweetly and i whistle back their tune. I transfer the birdseed into both of my hands, and slowly spin on the spot, letting the seeds fly. Once all the seeds have flown from my hands, I sit down at a log and watch as the tiny, beautiful birds start flying down and swooping the seeds and singing. I can’t help but smile at the sight. I look up at the sky. The sun has fully risen now. I stretch out my hand to see if a bird might perch there. And sure enough, a tiny little grey songbird flies down and perches on my outstretched fingers. It gives a small tweet and flies off into the forest. I smile at the sight and i sit there for a moment longer, taking in the peace and silence before the chaos of the hunger games that always comes with it.
I stand up and begin to make my way back to the covey house - my house. We live directly at the tree line of the forest, a small grassy field separating us from town. Not that I mind. I find it more peaceful. I debate on a quick trip to the Hob to trade this small wooden mockingjay I carved out of oak yesterday. I decide against it and sit down in the long grass among the flowers in the small field and eat my piece of bread. It’s slightly mushy, very grainy and slightly soft. I don’t complain. As I eat, thoughts of the reaping surface. ‘What’ll happen if I get reaped?’ I ask myself. But I push that thought aside. No use overthinking it. If I get reaped, I get reaped. That’s that. There’s nothing I would be able to do. I sit there in the field until district 7 residents start to wake. The sun is well and truly in the sky now, however dark and heavy clouds have rolled in again, covering it. I smile at the faint sound of rumbling thunder. I love storms. They make my heart sing. They are just so peaceful. So powerful. So calming. The wind frees my hair of its bun, and it whips behind me slightly, waving in the wind like a violet flag. And after a few moments of utter peace, I stand up and head back to the house. The small cottage that the covey has lived in for years and years.
I walk into the cottage, and see my mother, Elizabeth, on the sofa, carving what looks like a tree of life pendant out of birch. “Good morning mother” I say quietly so I don’t startle her. My mother looks at me, weary and tired. But so full of life. She smiles sadly. “Good morning Eleanor. Went to feed the birds again?” My mother asks. “Yes.” I answer. “It might rain today.” I add on. My mother shakes her head. “Hopefully not until after the reaping. Otherwise we’ll all be soaked.” I hum in agreement and turn my focus on the small pendant mother is making. “What are you making?” I ask her curiously. “A good luck charm. Just in case.” She answers. “Where did you get birch from?” I ask. Birch is quite hard to get as birch trees are quite rare in district 7. “I traded it for some lye soap I made the other day at the Hob.” She explains. “You should start getting ready, Eleanore.” I simply nod and head to the small room with the large bucket already filled with heated water.
I strip myself and hop in the bucket, scrubbing myself clean. I scrub under my long nails. I wash my hair with lye soap and the water runs slightly purple from the berries I dye my hair with. Once I’m finished, I step out and dry myself and put on the dress my mother has set out for me. It’s a beautiful coffee brown color, long skirt that goes down to just above my knees, long, slim sleeves and a v neckline. I then put on the worn but polished black shoes and step in front of the mirror. I barely recognise myself. “You look beautiful.” My mother says as she steps into my room. “Thank you.” I say quietly. She begins to twist my long purple hair into an elaborate, low bun at the bottom of my head, near the nape of my neck. When she’s done she holds up a hand mirror to my bun so I can take a look. I smile slightly. “You look beautiful.” My mother says. “You truly do.” “Thank you mama.” I say. She holds me tight for a moment before we pull apart and walk out of the house and towards the justice building.
Chapter 2: The Reaping
Summary:
The reaping ceremony and goodbyes.
Notes:
This one is a bit of a long one. Enjoy!
Chapter Text
Mother and I arrive early at the sign-in. We say goodbye for now - because you never know what could happen. As she holds me tight she whispers to me. “I’ll see you soon my darling.” I smile softly at her. “See you later mother.” She walks off to speak to some of her friends who are also saying goodbye for now to their children. As I got to the sign in a little earlier, there isn’t much of a line. There’s about two to three kids in front of me. I look behind me to see my best friend McKenzie walking up, looking worried. “Hey Mac.” I greet her. “Hey El.” “You look really worried. You okay?” I ask. McKenzie sighs. “Yeah I’m fine.. I just- I really hope I don’t get reaped today.” I look at her with a sad expression. “Me too. I couldn’t think of anything worse at this point. And that includes the noose. How many times did your name get put in?” I ask her, knowing she puts her name in for extra rations. She has five other siblings. Six including her. “40” she responds sadly. “Shit” I breathe “you’ll be okay. I promise.” I reassure her. “How can you be so sure?” She asks with a small sigh. “I don’t know” I respond truthfully. “But you’ll be okay. We both will be.” McKenzie just nods. I turn to the front. It’s my turn. A peacekeeper roughly grabs my hand, uses their zapper to draw blood from my finger, and presses it next to my name. My finger stings now. I raise my fingertip to my mouth and suck the blood off slightly as I walk to the 17’s area. I’m the first one there, and McKenzie soon joins. “That hurt a lot more this year for some reason” she winces and licks the blood off her finger. “Yeah it did actually. Higher taser setting maybe?” I suggest quietly. McKenzie shrugs and watches as the line grows longer to sign in. I follow her gaze. That’s when McKenzie spots her. My ex. Chantelle Gardener. We broke up a few years ago. We were on really bad terms for a while. But we’ve made up. And she’s straight now. Even though me and Chantelle are on good terms now, Kenzie and Chantelle dislike each other greatly. She finishes signing in and walks over to us. “Morning.” She says quietly. “Morning Tells.” I greet, just as quietly. “Is it just me or did the zap hurt more than last year?” She asks, rubbing her finger, smearing blood everywhere. “I said the same thing.” Kenzie says, not really looking at Chantelle.
A little while later, the entire district is standing at the justice building. Watching. Waiting. the children of district 7 wait in their areas. I stand with my fellow 17 year olds. ‘If I don’t get reaped today, or next year, I’m free.’ I think to myself as i subconsciously pick at my fingers. It’s a bad habit I have when I’m nervous. I take some deep breaths and wait. Soon enough, the anthem starts playing. It’s time. When the anthem finishes, all is silent. The district 7 Escort, Crystal Jensen speaks. “Good afternoon district 7 and welcome to the annual reaping for the 74th hunger games!” She says In her over the top Capitol accent. She is wearing blue this year. A blue wig, blue contacts that look eerily similar to my icy blue eye, blue thigh high boots, a blue mini mini skirt, a blue leather bomber jacket and blue lipstick and blush. Even her skin tone is slightly blue tinted. It makes me wonder if all the Capitol residents look as ridiculous as Crystal. “Before we begin I would like us to watch a very special film produced by our saviour president snow himself!” She gushes. Everyone looks to the massive screen to the side. It’s the usual film they play every year. Going on and on about the dark days and the war, and the fallen district 13 and how without him, there is no peace and yada yada yada. Honestly it’s exhausting just listening to snow drone on and on. I don’t “respect” him. I don’t “admire” him. All he wants is control and power. Everyone knows it. But apparently the Capitol is too brainwashed by colors and riches to realize they’re just an audience watching the pawns in Snow’s little fucked up game. I in barely refrain from rolling my eyes as the film ends and everyone looks back at Crystal. “That was beautiful. And now! Without further ado, let us choose who our tributes will be for the this year’s 74th hunger games!”
“Ladies first!” Crystal says with over the top enthusiasm. She reaches into the glass bowl on the left. She gracefully takes a slip from the bowl and opens it. “And the femal tribute from district 7 is…. Eleanore Grey!” She says. I take a second. ‘WHAT??’ I think to myself. I feel the bile rise to my throat. This isn’t happening. This is all just a bad dream right? Right??? I look at Kenzie and Tells. I don’t cry. My face is expressionless. I steel myself despite my gut turning itself inside out. I walk right up onstage. I can’t look at my mother who lets out a cry of pure anguish. Her friends rush to comfort her. I stand beside crystal, looking at the crowd. My home. My friends. My mother. I’m the only family she has left. And now I’ll be gone. And who knows if I’ll return. I barely hear Crystal announce the male tribute. It only registers when she says his name. “Jordan Brookes!” My eyes widen. My close friend Jordan. My childhood best friend. The first person I came out to as lesbian. My ride or die besides Kenzie. I feel like I’m going to puke. I watch as Jordan walks up onstage, looking terrified. He’s sweating. We lock eyes as he walks up. He stands beside crystal. She congratulates us and demands a round of applause. She gets none. She’s the only one clapping. Everyone else is somber. She says goodbye and leads us into the justice building. Jordan and I get separated into different rooms. Possibly to say goodbye to our families. I don’t know. But I feel sick to my stomach at what the future holds. I wait patiently in the cold, wooden room.
All of a sudden a peacekeeper opens the door and lets my mother in. “Five minutes.” He says gruffly and walks out, locking the door behind him. My mother and I rush towards each other in a desperate attempt at the last possible moment we might share. We might never see each other again. “Mama…” I breathe as I hug her. “Mama please. Don’t cry. Please” I say. I feel like I’m speaking around a rock lodged in my throat. I feel as though I might break. I feel sick. I try to breathe. “I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry-“ my mother chokes out. She hugs me tightly. I hug her back just as tight. For this may just be the last time she ever holds her baby girl again. “No no no. Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself.” I breathe. She pulls away slightly and holds my face in her hands as if I’m something that might break if held onto too tightly. “You’ll be okay baby girl. You’ll be okay.” She says, composing herself. She’s saying it to convince herself. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the tree of life pendant carved from Birch she was making earlier this morning. It was hung on a sturdy leather string. She puts it on me. “For luck. When you miss me, you have this. I love you baby girl. I love you so much.” She says. “I love you too mama. Thank you.” I reply. My voice nearly breaks but I control it. She puts the necklace on me. Then she hugs me again. I can’t breathe. I feel like I’m drowning and I can’t come up for air. Before we know it, we are being ripped apart by a peacekeeper, pushing her out the door and away from me. “I love you mama” I call “k love you too Eleanore.” She manages to say before the door closes and gets locked again. I’m left alone again. I feel sick to my stomach. I can’t breathe.
Two minutes pass. The seconds feel like hours. The door opens again and Kenzie and Chantelle run in, sobbing. “ELEANORE” they cry together and pull me into a crushing hug. All dislike between Chantelle and McKenzie is forgotten. Trivial things like that are meaningless when you are in this position. I can’t say anything. We just hold each other right. “You have to win el. You have to.” Chantelle says. “I’ll try.” I breathe. We spend the last few minutes together just holding each other. Kenzie looks haunted. As if I’m already dead. But I might as well be. All too soon, they are ripped from my arms by a peacekeeper. I sit down. I can’t breathe. My stomach feels like it’s turning itself inside out. My throat is tight. My eyes burn with unshed tears. I won’t cry. I refuse to. I won’t cry for the capitol’s sake. I feel so sick. I try breathing deeply. But I can’t. All I want to do is crumple into a ball and curl in on myself and cry. But that’s exactly what the Capitol wants, doesn’t it? Yeah well over my dead fucking body.
The_Fool_Who_Fell_In_Love on Chapter 2 Tue 11 Nov 2025 08:36PM UTC
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