Blue Flames- The Reaping- Caine O'Brian
My eyes stare straight forward as I walk towards the square. My sister, Dakota was walking beside me, silent. She was wearing our mother's dress: a soft green color with a white lace around the waist. She pulls her hair down from the delicate bun our mother had put it in and brushes her hair over her right shoulder. I smile slightly. "Mother would kill you if she saw you do that. She spent an hour on your hair, Kota. Besides, don't you want to look nice for the capital?" Dakota shrugs her shoulders indifferently. "I'm not going to dress up for my possible death sentence." She mutters.
I reach over and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze before filing into my age group. There were a few tense nods, and a few pats on the shoulders, but other than that no one said a word nor moved a muscle. The girl's name is called: Larka Darte. Then the boy's: David Blade.
I recognized the boy instantly. The twelve year old was small for his age. His left leg was at an odd angle, along with his right arm. He had been sickly ever since I could remember. No one said a word as the crowd parts to let him limp unsteadily through. He suddenly stumbles and falls to the ground. He doesn't make a sound as he gets up and continues to limp up to the stadium.
He wouldn't last a second in the bloodbath of the games. He could barely walk, much less run. Anger towards the capital builds up within me, and pity towards the boy mixes in with the bottle of emotion within me, threatening to burst.
What I was about to do would more than likely be suicidal. I take a deep breath, and I take a step forward.
"I volunteer as tribute."