ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ ɢᴀᴍᴇ •ꜰ.ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ•

ᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇ'ꜱ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀ

"Stiles come get your laundry off the damn line" I yelled down the hall of the little house in what I call home, district nine. each of the twelve districts in Panem has its own specialty trade, district nine was Panem's wheat supplier. we were stable, my father was a good provider working in the wheat factories, we didn't have fancy things but we had a sturdy roof and food on the table. but now, ever since my father was executed for interfering with a peacekeeper, it's just me, my younger brother Stiles who is thirteen and going through that phase where he is rude to anything that breathes, and my mother Maud who has been struggling with trying to keep everything under control.

"Whatever, I'll do it when I'm done with this" he yelled back with regular irritation in his voice. I head for his room rolling my eyes at this constant argument. stiles and I used to be real close until our dad passed and a big wedge got driven in between us. 

"no, Mom needs it cleared," I say as I reach his door. he is sitting there drawing in his notebook, not even looking up when I go to his door. he was always drawing, he loved it. his room was filled with sketches, paintings, and beautiful drawings all on his walls. One was my favorite, it was of the ocean he was focused for three days and it paid off because when he was done it looked just like one, not like we have a real one to compare it to. I've always wanted to see the beach in person and feel the sand and water, it seems so beautiful and peaceful.

"Hello...?"  I question and when all he does is huff I grab his journal and throw it on the ground.

"oh my god, why are you such a bitch!" he spits in my face as he walks to go get his journal which has a couple of pages crumbled. conveniently enough our mother walks in with a confused look

"What is happening?" she questions looking at both of us while we are giving each other the death glare. she would never have to weasel anything out of us. One look in her eyes and you crack wide open.

"he is just sitting here drawing when he needs to get his clothes off the line," I say irritated that now I am having to go through this with her.

"I said I would do it" he rebutted

"It's been there for three days, but ok" I roll my eyes and my mom gives us a look that is a whole lecture in itself and walks away. he always gets let off so easily, I am the one that has to do everything, catch the game, do the laundry, and help keep things together so he can have a normal life.

"just have them off by the time I get back, and be dressed it starts at twelve," I say walking away and into my room for my coat and boots and heading for the front door. 

This "it" is called the reaping which is where a male and a female between the ages twelve and eighteen are drawn from a bowl of names and forced to participate in what is known as the hunger games where citizens of the capitol watch children fight to the death where there will be one lone victor. I usually go for a run through the woods before the reaping, it would help me find peace to be away from the games for a short amount of time. but this year, I ran for like 10 minutes and then stopped to walk, along the walk I ran into my neighbor, Kati, who I've practically grown up with.

"Are you ready?' she asks looking at her feet, a question she has asked me for the past four years.

"come on, I don't think anyone can be ready," I say looking at her with a knowing glare. How can one be ready to potentially face death?

"well, how many times this year?" she asks another question she has asked every year.

"Thirty, I had to put my name in to buy food for a week, but just like last year all I can think about is that if Stiles' name gets pulled I can't do anything about it," I say looking down, this is Stiles' second year in the reaping and just like the year before I have the constant feeling of worry that he will get reaped.