Promise

I always felt cold around this time.

I could sit in front of a large, crackling fire bundled to the brim in the thickest, warmest blankets, yet shiver as if I was lying in a bed of ice.

It’s the reaping that does that to you, though. Slow and conniving, that dreaded day draws nearer and nearer and with it, despair and the looming fear of death.

There’s no happiness to be found anywhere. No one teases. No one jokes. No one laughs. No one smiles. When the reaping approaches, happiness doesn’t exist.

As a child, my greatest fear was the possibility of becoming District 12’s tribute. I used to have these gruesome, vivid nightmares about going into the arena, where I could feel my impending death eagerly waiting to happen. One by one, I’d slaughter what I thought was every tribute, just seconds away from winning the entire Games, and then I was met by an axe lodging itself in my throat.

I outgrew the dream eventually, but the terror was something that would always accompany me.

We were all afraid. Even the strongest of the bunch were petrified. We all knew that two of our own were going to die no matter what, and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it.

But even in this abysmal sea of horror and darkness, there was a small, hopeful flicker of light that I clung to so desperately.

Peeta Mellark.

He was like the morning gleam of the sun—so warm, inviting, and bright. When I was with him, I felt as if nothing could ever harm me. He was my safe haven, which is why I was frightened beyond belief when thoughts of losing him consumed my mind.

“What are you thinking about?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“You can’t answer my question with a question,” he said, his grin wide and affectionate. “That’s not how it works around here.”

I sighed heavily, resting my head against the edge of the table. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Immediately, his smile dissipated and a frown took its place. He paused in kneading bread dough and pulled up a chair beside me, wiping his flour-covered hands upon his apron.

“It’s not like you could hide it from me anyway,” he murmured softly, his rough fingers pushing dark tendrils of hair behind my ear. I eased into his touch, my cheek resting in his palm. “I can see it in your eyes—the fear, the sorrow. I know you’re afraid, but you shouldn’t dwell on it constantly. Chances are you won’t even be picked, Alex.”

He’d been saying that every day for the past week, trying his best to reassure me. Unfortunately, it never worked.

“You don’t know that, though,” I said hysterically, my mind racing with endless possibilities. “I could easily be picked, or you, or both of us together. Oh, God, Peeta, what—what if that happens? What if…what if we have to kill each other—”

“Alex, stop!” he shouted suddenly, catching us both off guard. “Stop thinking like that! You’re just making yourself even more scared.”

I shrank back in my seat, feeling small and insignificant under his fiery gaze.

“I-I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I just…I can’t help thinking the worst.”

He sighed, his expression softening immediately. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have blown up like that. You have every single right to be afraid.” He reached forward to graze his fingers across my cheek gently, a small grin pulling at his lips. “But I want you to know that as long as I’m around, I won’t let any harm come to you.”

“Promise?”

He smiled again as he pulled me from my chair, his strong arms engulfing me warmly.

“I promise.”



Everything is going to be fine, Alex. You’re going to be fine.

I stood in front of my mother’s mirror, quietly trying to comfort myself as she brushed my hair, her delicate fingers moving swiftly in braiding several strands intricately.

“Honey,” she said, placing a kiss on my forehead. “You look beautiful.”

I certainly didn’t feel beautiful. As I stared at my reflection, all I could see was a somber, dismal girl with dreary eyes and a pale blue dress that seemed too bright and too pure for such an occasion.

But I managed a minuscule smile nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

She squeezed my shoulders tenderly and kissed my cheek, her fingers laced with mine as she lead me out of the room.

My father was standing by the door patiently, his face showing no emotion whatsoever. He was the type of man that always held a tough demeanor, no matter the situation. Although I knew it was only a façade. I knew he was afraid. I also knew that whatever happened, he wanted to stay strong for his family.

I think the only time I saw an inkling of happiness in him was when my little brother, Theo, was born, but he seemed to have that effect on everyone. At four and a half years old, he was so cheerful and the liveliest little boy that lived in the Seam.

In a way, I envied him. He was so young and innocent and unaware of the horrors surrounding him. I wished I could always keep him that way, but sheltering him would prove to be of no use; he’d have to experience this terrible world one way or another.

I giggled when his face lit up as he spotted my mother and I. He ran from his spot next to our father and wrapped his small arms around my legs before he did the same to our mom.

“Hi, Alex!” he shouted, scrunching his nose as I ruffled his tidy hair.

“Hey, little man.”

“Daddy says we have to leave now.” He laughed as I scooped him up in a tight embrace. “Are you ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”



The square was crowded and already full of people when we arrived.

Kids were gathering into their respected age groups, hands trembling and eyes full of fear. Parents and siblings and friends were standing off to the side, some with straight faces and some sobbing uncontrollably.

My mother hugged my tightly and whispered an “I love you” in my ear, her eyes glistening with tears. Theo also hugged me, but he was smiling and laughing and wriggling about in mother’s arms. I thought my father was going to give me a simple shoulder squeeze—something he’d always done—but he pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me.

When he pulled away, he placed a kiss on my forehead and gave me an encouraging nod.

As I walked to the group of sixteens, willing myself to not cry, I spotted Peeta a couple of rows away. Immediately, his brilliant cerulean eyes found my own, and he gave me a warm, confident smile.

Maybe he was right. Maybe everything would be fine after all.

I didn’t pay much attention to Mayor Undersee, his speech about the history of Panem and the formation of the Hunger Games, nor his reading off of the previous victors. It wasn’t until the immensely flamboyant Effie Trinket pranced her way onto the stage that my stomach started to twist in painful knots.

“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.”

My heart started to beat a thousand times fast as she eagerly dipped her hand into the glass ball full of girls’ names. As she stood in front of the microphone, her pale hands clutching a small piece of paper, I desperately hoped that my name wasn’t the one that she’d call out.

She paused for emphasis. Then with much enthusiasm, she said, “Primrose Everdeen.”

I almost wanted to jump for joy because thank God, I wasn’t District 12’s tribute. Those feelings went away quickly when I realized that this year’s female tribute was only twelve years old. For a moment, I felt sadness for the girl, and then another voice rang out.

“I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!”

Everyone’s eyes went wide as Katniss Everdeen went sprinting towards the stage, ushering her sister away as she took her place.

Once the commotion died down and Effie contained her excitement, she reached into the next bowl.

And then my heart plunged deep into my stomach as she called out the next name.

“Peeta Mellark!”



I couldn’t stop crying.

For a second, I was completely stunned and in denial. Peeta, my Peeta, couldn’t have been picked as District 12’s male tribute. It was…it was impossible. But his horrified expression and tearful eyes confirmed my worst fear.

All of my pain and sorrow and anguish had finally taken over and now I was left a weeping mess in the Justice Hall, waiting to say my final farewell.

I never thought I’d have to say goodbye to my best friend.

I never thought I’d have to say goodbye to the boy that I loved.

As much as I didn’t want to accept it, this was the last moment we’d ever spend together. I wanted so strongly to believe that he’d overcome this challenge, that in a couple of weeks, he’d walk back into my life and everything would be fine once again. Though, deep down, I knew that the chances of him surviving were very slim.

The thought only made me cry harder.

Suddenly, the door opened and his parents walked out of the room. Peeta’s mother, who still didn’t like me, gave me a quick nod and kept walking forward. His father was much kinder and hugged me briefly, his expression forlorn and grim. I watched as they left the Justice Building, knowing fully that they were walking away from their son for good.

The Peacekeeper guarding the room beckoned me forward and stiffly told me I’d only have a couple of minutes to spend with “the Tribute.” Slowly, he pushed the door open and I stepped in, my eyes immediately finding Peeta. His back was to the door and once he heard the door open, he whipped around instantaneously.

“Alexandra.”

My promise to stay strong quickly disappeared as I launched myself at him, his arms enveloping me almost immediately.

“P-Peeta,” I blubbered pathetically, “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Please, don’t cry,” he said, running his fingers through my hair. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

We stayed like that for the short amount of time we had together—his arms tightening around my waist and my face buried in the crook of his neck. Both of us remained silent, but we didn’t need words to say goodbye. My stream of tears let him know that I was going to miss him and the way he held me against his chest told me that he’d miss me as well.

I knew our time was coming to an end, and though I didn’t want to let go, I realized that this was my last chance to let him know of the feelings I harbored only for him.

When his embrace loosened and he looked down to give me a sad smile, I spilled my heart.

“I love you.”

He was so painfully quiet and for a moment, I feared that maybe he was angry with me, angry that I loved him and angry that I chose the very last second to tell him. And then, his rough fingers were trailing across my cheek and his lips were pressing against mine, soft and fervent and full of an urgency that made my knees weak.

The expression he adorned and the soft kiss he’d placed upon my lips once more revealed everything he had not—I love you, too.

Finally, the Peacekeeper had burst into the room, and before he could drag me away, Peeta pulled me into his arms and whispered in my ear, “This won’t be the last time we see each other, I promise.”