Reaping, Remembering, Dreading

"Madge Undersee!"

She remember walking up the stairs, she felt the stares and pity and thought she heard a loud cry at the back. Her mother, probably. It was like walking to her own funeral. Then she remembered Effie calling out the boy tribute, "Gale Hawthorne!"

No, she thought, of all people.

She knew him, the boy who sold strawberries to her father at the back of their bakery. She saw him around school and she knows of his skill with the bow. He hunted with Katniss, a girl in her class.

Madge knew she's already dead, even before it began.

Sombre silence greeted Effie Trinket as she walked to the microphone. It's the Quarter Quell Reaping. Madge eyes never left the bowl where the lone paper with her name was. It's happening again. She wanted to run away and hide forever but she managed to shake the fear away.

She heard Effie announced her name.

Then, Haymitch'.

Gale's voice, volunteering, followed.

She expected that but the reality was much cruel. This was it. They're back in the Games. And she's not coming back. She looked at Gale, she saw him raised his fingers to his lips and found herself doing the same. They both raised it to the crowd and the crowd had done the same. Unity from the district.

Not good.

But she felt a tinge of hope.

And before she knew it they were being ushered inside the building, in the car, and to the train station.

"What's going on?" Gale asked, "We're supposed to say goodbye to our families."

"And we're supposed to be safe from the Reapings," she said, keeping the fear and dread out of her voice, "But here we are."

It's not unfamiliar, the feeling of not getting to say goodbye to her family. Her mother did, just the first time. She didnt bother even checking up on her since it was announced that she's going back to the games. But this was it. It was the last time and even if her mother wanted to say goodbye, there's not going to be any chance. Madge didn't want to go like this.

Gale suddenly pulled her close.

"It's going to be fine," he whispered, wiping her tears away.

Madge hated that she couldn't even hide what she's really feeling. She had managed to keep it out of her voice but her tears didn't get the memo.

She remembered the first time she rode in the train. She was, in spite of her hatred of the Capitol, in awe of the extravagance of it and the abundance of food. She never eaten so much in one sitting, thinking she'd be dead anyway, why not enjoy the remaining days of her life?

She also remembered a very angry Gale.

The bread knife wielding boy that made Haymitch helped them. The older man wasn't even willing to look at her at first and often headbutting with Gale on what to do.

It said something about her life when she considered that as the simpler of times. She almost can't even remember her mundane life back in 12, the smell of bread and pastries in the morning, the feel of her father's arms around her, or the soothing voice of comfort of her mother's. No, she can't.

And she won't. It didn't exist in her world now.

She needed to survive long enough to make sure Gale will be the Victor. That's the plan.

Coming in the first time, her chances in survival were nil. She had no skill fit for the arena, no great beauty to pull in sponsors, and no social grace to speak off. No sane mentor would put energy in helping her come out of the Games alive. Luckily for her, Haymitch was not sane. Booze in hand he devised a plan to save her.

Another help came from her stylist. He fixed the problem of making her look pretty enough. She had a memorable entrance.

The target was hooked.

But that help only go so far, she had to face the gamemakers alone and show them her nonexistent skill. They weren't paying attention anyway, so she painted her arm that perfectly camouflage it to the tree and when she saw an axe not far from her, she figured a way to get their attention.

She had screamed.

Bloody axe in hand.

Medics came rushing when they saw her bleeding, leaning against the tree in one of the training stations, and half her arm was missing. One medic was about to reach for the bloody arm when she suddenly grabbed the medic with the camouflaged arm. It's the medic's turn to scream as Madge had her ax on the medic's neck, the gamemakers' attention was hers.

The stunt earned her an 8.

Nothing compared to Gale's 11. And that temper, he had.

A chuckle escaped Madge at the morbid memory.

"What's funny?" Gale asked, he gave her a look before going back to

perusing tapes of living Victors' games.

"Don't look at me like I'm losing my mind," she said, slapping his arm lightly, "I just remembered my training session. I was lucky. I don't think I'll manage to do anything worth something, again."

"Well, good that you still have your sanity," he said, smiling, "We still need to go through these tapes."

Madge noticed the tape in his hand, the number 50 was printed on it.

"Haymitch' game?" she asked, dread creeping in her veins. She managed to deter him from viewing that tape on those nights they sat on her couch writing notes about potential allies and enemies.

"Yeah, it's the only Quarter Quell we had," he said, "We have to see this."

Gale didn't know, of course, that she survived their games because of what's in that tape. Before she could say anything, he had put it on and had pressed play.

AN: Hey, sorry for taking four years to update. I apologize for any mistakes, my English is rusty. And I hope you're still interested. Thanks for reading. What do you think?