Peeta Mellark Reaping’s Day
The only reason I’m waking up today is for the Reaping. Otherwise, I would have loved to sleep for an eternity away from my mother. You’d think a baker in District Twelve would have an easier life than those in the rundown Seam, but I don’t. Try living with a family who doesn’t care for your existence and with a mother who isn’t afraid to beat you if you burn some bread. Right now it’s the crack of dawn. That means it’s time to prepare all of the ovens and baking ingredients. I start by grabbing my apron. It’s filthy, worn out from use and no washing. I look in the mirror to tie the back. The only difference between my hygiene and the apron’s is I can feel pain. The apron watches life go by, just existing. Using a small portion of water I wash my hands. It’s a pathetic amount that does nothing. My hands are still dirty and my fingernails are still caked with grime. No one would ever love me for being Peeta. When I die, I’m sure my gravestone will just read “Peeta Mellark: Baker.” That’s right; I’m no one’s son, brother or husband. Just a nobody who’ll be stuck in this daily life on repeat. As I grab a couple bags of flour, I look out the window for a ray of sun that might give me hope. My eyes follow the most prominent beam I can see and instead of it falling on the ground like the rest, this one hits a face. Her face. The face that belongs to Katniss Everdeen. I see her from a distance since she’s a Seam girl and I’m not, but I’d know her anywhere. From what I know, her life is much harder than mine. Ever since her father died in the mining accident, her mother has been completely cut off from the world. It’s like she stares into the oblivion of sorrow and shame. That leaves Katniss’ twelve year old sister, Primrose, but everyone calls her Prim. This is Prim’s first Reaping so a part of me aches for her. But my aching is nothing compared to how Katniss has to feel. Prim is her entire world;...
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