The Games Are Back

"Now we will select our female tribute!" Harinna Mayerlee's annoyingly high-pitched voice reverberates through the square.

Christ, how did we let this happen? All the fighting and bloodshed and sacrifice to end the games forever - or so we thought. We citizens of Panem had witnessed the briefest moment of peace until the fateful day our Mockingjay fell from the sky. The day those Panem nationalist bastards bombed the house of Katniss Evergreen, Peeta Mellark, and their two children. That was six months ago. Since then, the nationalists harvested power and rebuilt the capitol, announcing the beginning of a new era of Hunger Games. No one knows what the new games will be like, which makes them all the more terrifying.

Today is the day we've all been dreading. The Reaping. Almost everyone in our district is gathered in the square, and you can physically feel the fear and worry emanating from the crowds of families as they are silently obligated to pray that someone else's child is served this death sentence. These new games included a few rule changes, one of which extends the reaping pool to children as young as ten years old.

I watch Harinna's hand swim through the glass bowl of names, her perfectly manicured nails are sparks of bright orange among the grey slips of paper. She stops. Pulls her hand out and walks to the microphone, having finally found District 11's "lucky lady."

She clears her throat. Every person in the crowd is holding their breath.

"The female tribute of District 11 is.... Lydya Cressent!"

Sighs of both relief and pity flow through the square as armed peacekeepers make their way from the stage.

I close my eyes. Dammit.