THE DAY of the reaping was an annual reminder of her brother's misery and trauma. Because, 7 years ago, Finnick was thrown into a brutal arena, forced to fight for his life while the rest of the world watched in horror.

Every year, as the date approached, the tension grew unbearable; Finnick spent most of his days in the Victor's Village, unable to surround himself with his family after being ripped away from them at 14. She could see the shadows under Finnick's eyes deepen as the day approached, a contrast to the vibrant boy he once was. The games changed him— she knew they would, but it still hurt when her brother came home unrecognisable. The laughter they shared as children felt like a distant memory, replaced by silence and the weight of unspoken fears.

The sun was rising on the horizon, making the lake glisten and casting a golden glow over District Four. The lake was always quiet on reaping day, which was the only positive that Francesca could appreciate on the worst day of the year.

With a practiced eye, she scanned the shimmering surface, watching for the flicker of fish scales within the shallow water. Frankie crouched low, her eyes wide and aware— just like how Finnick had taught her when they were kids. Suddenly, a flash caught her eye. A sleek silver fish darted past. With a quick motion, she lunged, throwing her silver trident into the water . The thrill of the catch sent a rush of adrenaline through her veins, as she stepped through the shallow water to collect her weapon; a small smile appearing on her face when she noticed a large fish wriggling on the end of the sharp spikes.

She placed the fish into her woven basket, now full, before turning back to walk towards her house. It was a small cabin by the shoreline, with the best views of the sunsets in the entire District (in Frankie's opinion). Compared to the Capitol, the cabin was the equivalent to an old wooden shed, but there were many memories made in her house; she would rather a small cabin with her brother, than an empty mansion in the Capitol.

"Mags?" Francesca greeted, giving a kind smile to the elderly woman in the kitchen. The siblings considered Mags as their grandmother, despite not having any blood connections to them; Frankie's mother had died when she was young and her dad was always busy with his job at sea, so Mags became their mother figure.

The woman had won the 11th Hunger Games at 16 years old; Francesca felt honoured to live in the same household as two Victors. Mags gave her a small wave in greeting, patting the space next to her to gesture for the girl to join her in the kitchen.

"Look," Francesca exclaimed, placing her basket onto the table, "I beat my high score— I hit 9 fish."

Mags had a stroke a year ago, resulting in a speech difficulty. At first, Frankie struggled to understand the woman, though overtime Mags had started to use gestures with her hands to translate what she was trying to say. Francesca realised that she just had to really pay attention to Mags' body language, and the information would soon follow.

"Well, Finnick's high score was, like, 18– I think— but he hasn't played it with me for a while. I'm still trying to beat it, though," The girl continued, "Where is Nick?"

Mags let out a quiet mumbling sound, gesturing her hand to point East... towards the Victor's Village. Francesca was offered a bedroom in Finnick's new home, though she hated the idea for using her brother's misery as a reward for herself. She decided to live in the cabin, visiting Finnick everyday, along with Mags. The older woman alternated between the cabin and the Village, making sure both children were tended to and cared for.

"The Village?" Frankie nodded curiously, letting out a quiet sigh as she placed a dead fish on the counter in front of her. Mags tapped her arm gently, raising her eyebrows and exchanging a motherly expression. Francesca sighed, "I know. Nick can live wherever he wants, I just..." She paused, "I miss him, a lot. Don't tell him I told you that, though... I don't want him to feel bad."

Mags placed her hand on top of Frankie's, gently stroking her thumb against the girl's skin reassuringly. The woman gestured to the basket of fish, murmuring broken words as she helped Frankie prepare lunch.

While the fish were cooking, Mags and Francesca walked through District Four— their arms linked. The fear and panic of the reaping was overwhelming and very noticeable; everybody was preparing themselves in distress, especially the parents that had to send off their children who were now of age to get reaped for the first time.

Frankie wore Mags' old dress, every year, which is what the woman wore on her reaping days. It was a white dress which flowed down her body; it was more of a beach dress, than a fancy dress, though Frankie liked wearing it. On the end of the dress, light blue patterns were stitched onto the material.

With every step, Frankie was noticeably more anxious. The 72nd Hunger Games was commencing, and she hadn't received a hug from her older brother yet. Finnick was a Mentor, he had been for the past few years, meaning he had to ride endless tours on the train and mentor the reaped tributes. The train never stopped— once a person was reaped, they were forever entwined with a cycle of suffering, with no way out except death.

"Where's Nick?" Frankie asked again, her voice more worried this time as they walked towards the town square. Mags had slowed down, mainly due to her being exempt from the reaping; she had already been chosen once, at least Mags wouldn't have to experience it again.

Mags let out a few broken mumbles, which sounded similar to 'you will be okay'. Francesca nodded quickly, hugging the older woman though her mind raced with the thought of her brother. Find Finnick, find Finnick, find Finnick. She walked through the crowds of civilians, nudging past the adults who were walking slowly and cautiously; she ignored the angered grunts from the people she had barged past, focusing on finding her brother from within the crowd.

And, in the distance, Francesca could see her brother stood on the stage with the District Four escort— Genevieve O'Connell. He was staring into the distance, like he always did; ever since they were younger, Finnick's way of processing would result in zoning out completely. Even if Frankie shouted his name, the boy probably wouldn't hear.

"Finger." Was all the woman said, as she sat in boredom behind the table. She held a needle in one hand, and was sorting out an important piece of paper in front of her. She said it again, louder, "Fin—"

"I heard you the first time," Frankie quickly replied, outstretching her arm towards the lady; Francesca purposefully offered out her middle finger. In response, the woman sighed, before grabbing her index finger and harshly pricking it with a needle. Frankie refused to wince, mainly because she knew the lady was looking smugly at her.

The woman guided Frankie's finger towards the sheet of paper, pressing it down so her blood printed out on the page. She scanned it, before gesturing for the girl to keep on walking.

Francesca stood in her categorised section, for the girls who were aged 14-16. There was a section for the boys too, as well as the children and the adults; the Capitol separated them like animals, almost dehumanising everything about them. They were just a number, an age that certified their importance to compete in the Hunger Games. A system that needed to be changed.

"Welcome! Welcome, welcome." The Escort announced, tapping the microphone in front of her with her gloved hand; Frankie didn't know if the glove was a fashion statement, or if the Escort was afraid to catch the District's germs. Genevieve beamed a smile, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour."

Francesca's eyes met with Finnick's, the two of them sharing a look from a distance away. The boy looked terrified, though he was dressed in a new outfit to hide his vulnerability. He gave her a small smile, his lips twitching in an attempt, and the girl returned it.

"Now, the time has come to select one courageous young man and woman for the honour of representing District 4 in the 72nd Annual Hunger Games." Genevieve exclaimed excitedly, "As usual, ladies first."

The woman removed her glove, revealing her green painted nails which matched her fancy outfit— Frankie thought she looked ridiculous— she hovered her hand over the small envelopes piled in the bowl. Frankie watched, her heart pounding against her chest as Genevieve selected a name from the glass bowl. She held it in front of her face, slowly unfolding the edges of paper; the woman paused.

The girl looked at her brother, her big eyes desperately pleading for reassurance. Her breath was shallow and, like every year, she just wanted to go home. The Reaping made her District feel like a prison; this was supposed to be her home. Frankie was supposed to feel safe, but instead she was forced to gamble in a game that was her life. For the Capitol's entertainment.

"Francesca Lou Odair!"

No. Her eyes dropped to the floor and, for a moment, the girl couldn't move. She couldn't find the oxygen to breathe.  The world moved slowly, as Frankie felt her District's eyes upon her; she was their yearly sacrifice.

"Where are you, dear? Come on up," Genevieve prompted, "This way." 

She let out a small shaky breath, stepping out from the crowd cautiously. Frankie's eyes were on the Peacekeepers, who arguably didn't keep the peace at all— they were violent forces of power, who abused their status to overrule the people. Francesca considered running, though she wouldn't go far without getting shot; either way, she was going to die.

Frankie might as well put up a fight before she became another dead tribute, forgotten with history. She might as well play the Capitol's game in her last moments— she didn't have a choice.

"Lou," The quiet voice of Finnick spoke; his face filled with an expression of pure grief, almost as if he had lost his sister already. He gave her a tight hug, but she couldn't hear anything he was whispering because of the sudden surge of shock she was feeling. Frankie knew that he couldn't do anything— if he did, they would all be killed as punishment. Finnick could only watch, and play along, as his sister was reaped for a game of her death.

"And now for the boys!" Genevieve continued, walking over towards a separate glass bowl. Her hands fished around, picking an envelope out and unfolding it in front of her. She announced excitedly, "Kipper Viotto!"

The crowd moved slightly, heads turning towards a teenage boy who looked slightly older than Frankie. The girl recognised him, though she hadn't spoken to him before; Kipper worked on the boats.

"Come on up." Genevieve rushed, more distress to her voice this time. She muttered, turning away from the microphone to talk to her colleague, "We're running out of air time— yes, keep rolling."

Kipper was accompanied by a few Peacekeepers as they walked him towards the stage. The boy was in shock, unable to express any emotion other than numbness. Kipper looked at Frankie, and they both exchanged a look of sympathy and pity for each other because their luck had run out today.

"Here we are." Genevieve placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, quickly guiding him towards the centre of the stage. She announced, "Our Tributes from District 4! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

The crowd watched them, staring at them sympathetically, though everyone was relived that they hadn't been picked. Deep down, everybody was thankful that Frankie and Kipper had been reaped; it would be them who died this year, sparing everyone an extra year of freedom.

Francesca's eyes filled with tears as she looked hopelessly at Mags within the crowd. She couldn't leave. No, no, no.

"Let's move," A low voice insisted and, before Francesca could take another breath, she was quickly escorted by four Peacekeepers towards the large exit doors of the stage. Her eyes were helplessly searching for her brother, as she tried to peer over the mens' shoulders to seek out glimpses of Finnick.

The Peacekeepers dispersed when the large doors closed behind them, securing them in a large room filled with Capitol chaos: Genevieve was insisting orders at a fellow member of the Capitol, Peacekeepers standing protectively around the room, orders being shouted in distress and Genevieve's real self was revealed when the cameras turned off.

The Escort wouldn't stop shouting, barking lists of demands before flicking her hair out of her face. Genevieve clasped her hands together, facing the two Tributes with a fake warm smile, "Right, we've ran out of time. So, straight to the train—"

Kipper asked worriedly, "What about my parents? Don't we get to say goodbye?"

"Not today. Chop-chop, come on," Genevieve prompted, walking towards the exit and expecting them to follow, "If you wanted to say goodbye, you shouldn't of walked so slowly. Time is precious, darlings. Remember that."

Frankie held her tongue, biting it hard to restrain herself from arguing back. However, her anger faded when she caught a glimpse of her brother, who walked into the room quickly; his eyes were searching for Frankie.

"Finnick," The girl called out; she stopped following their Escort, before turning around and jogging towards the older boy, "Nick! Nick."

"It's okay," Finnick embraced his sister in a tight hug, kissing her forehead shakily. He reassured quietly, "It's okay, Lou. I'm sorry— I'm so sorry."

"I don't wanna go," Frankie was crying, uncontrollably, "I don't want to go. Nick, don't make me—"

"May I remind you that the train is leaving!" Genevieve stressed, sighing as she stopped walking with Kipper. She clapped her hands together, "Come on. Get up— follow me." She turned to the Peacekeepers, insisting, "Do something!"

Two armed men stepped forward; one dragged Francesca towards the train and the other was a safety precaution in case Finnick tried to intervene— which he did.

"Nick!" Frankie cried out, "Get off me!"

The older boy protested, "Hey! Hey— don't touch her like that." He backed away from the Peacekeeper who had stepped in front of him; giving a sarcastic smile, he added, "Alright, alright. This wouldn't go down well.  I'm a Victor— Capitol favourite, remember that?" He insisted, "Tell your men to let her go."

And he did. Frankie was shoved away, before being guided towards the silver train. The train ride that never stopped because, once you boarded, the endless cycle of suffering started.

a/n:
HEY GUYS!!
im so excited for this fanfic
i hope you like it so far<3