71st Reaping [D5]

The end of the world began with a raffle.

Perhaps once, such a statement would have been impossible to conceive. Raffles were fun events. They worked by entering a select number of names into a hat, a computer, or a glass globe, and choosing one or more at random. Whoever got chosen won some sort of reward. 

Today, while the rules of such a drawing had changed little in the postwar era, one could hardly call the Hunger Games a reward, unless you lived in a Career district. After all, in a district such as Five, more often than not this particular raffle led to a death sentence. 

I, of course, had nothing to fear. For four years, Avery and I had been entered into the reaping pool, and for four years, we had escaped reaping. On top of that, Mother and Father had adamantly refused to let us put our names in for tesserae, even with the extra food as temptation.

"We get along well enough without it, don't we?" Mother's stern voice rang clearly through my mind as the two of us finished our registration. "Yes, times have been tough on us, and sometimes we go to bed hungry. But putting you two in more danger for these blasted Games is not worth any meager scraps the Capitol can dish out to us."

Taking one last look behind me, I catch a glimpse of my parents. Both have aged poorly in recent years, the struggle of working long hours at the power plant reflecting clearly in their tired expressions and stooped postures. But as I lock eyes with Mother, some of the fire returns to her gaze, and I can tell that she is trying her very hardest to remain strong. 

Neither of my parents had ever liked reaping day that much. Then again, no one around here really does. Perhaps its the fact that between the two of us, Avery and I have twice as many chances to get reaped as anyone else. 

It's perhaps the only drawback to having an other half in this day and age.

I shuffle into the mob of the other sixteen year old males, following behind Avery as he scopes out a spot in line big enough for the two of us. Such a task isn't too terribly difficult, yet somehow the space he picks out is barely large enough for both of us. As a result, I am squished into the line, my twin on my left and some random guy on my right. 

Finally, after a couple of cramped moments, the escort walks out, talking about the same old Reaping Ceremony rubbish that we've heard since we were little kids. Slightly more comforting is the fact that the line spreads out just a tad, allowing me to finally stand without being compressed like some human sandwich.

The explanation ends, leading us into the moment everyone was waiting for. I steal a glance at Avery, who's staring straight at the escort with his jaw set and a cold glint in his eyes. It's almost like my brother is ready to march off to war, which isn't entirely inaccurate.

"Ladies first." The escort's voice echoes throughout the crowd, the first two words that I've actually heard him clearly state all day. His face unreadable, the Capitol's representative darts into the glass bubble, withdrawing with a tiny slip of paper in his grasp. 

"Saxton Hale." He drones, almost as if he was a robot and not a person.

A slight wave of shock courses through me as I realize that I vaguely recognize the name. I didn't know much about her, but I did know that she was in the same grade, and a couple of classes, as Avery and myself. 

Well, one sixteen year old has already been chosen. I think to myself as the man dips his hand into the other ball. And really, what are the chances that another will get-

"Tyler Westbrook."

My mind freezes midthought, my blood turns to ice, and my heart skips a beat as adrenaline pumps through it. 

No. No. Nonononono. How is this possible.

We were entered the bare minimum of times.

There are several others that could have been chosen.

Why me?

My mind restarts, thinking a million thoughts a second, but it is brought to a halt a second time as I feel Avery tense up next to me. And suddenly, I realize what he's about to do.

"I voluntee-"

Before my beloved brother can finish his sentence, my palm connects with his mouth with a loud, solid smack. While it was a bit harder than I had been going for, the objective had been completed, as Avery's words struggle futilely against my hand.

Shock replaces determination in his expression. I hadn't hit him in years. Meeting the electric blue gaze that I recognized so well with my own, I speak.

"Avery."

Silence. I guess my hand is a better muffler than I thought.

"Shut the fuck up."

My twin's wits return to him, and he rips my arm away from his face none too gently. "But....Tyler..." he says, voice trembling. "You can't go."

I actually smiled at that. "And you think I'm just going to stand aside and let you take my place? Watch as my brother sacrifices himself to save my life? I don't think so, Avery."

"But-"

"No buts." My calmness is honestly scaring me. "I got selected fair and square. And besides, Avery. Just because I was reaped doesn't mean I'm dead yet. Five has had victors before."

We stare at each other silently for what seems like an eternity, both of us fighting down our tears. 

Finally, my brother breaks the stare-off, leaning forward and wrapping me into a crushing hug, one I return. "You'd better come back, Tyler." he whispers in my ear. "If you don't, then I....I don't know."

Breaking our embrace, I simply nod at my brother, my physical other half. No words can soothe him at this point, meaning that I must now confront my fate.

My body is numb as I work my way out of the line and towards the stage. I deliberately don't look around, instead focusing on the extravagantly dressed escort. 

For, I know that if I do, that if I catch the gaze of anyone I know, then my thinly constructed veil will crumble. And no one likes a crying tribute. 

(OOC: Tyler Westbrook accepts his position as the male tribute from District Five)