Chanyeol’s POV

The reaping…it was a total blur.

I sat aboard a first-class, Capitol-owned train now. I found myself gazing intently out the window, watching countless trees pass by, watching the gray sky, watching everything out there like as if I could find a sliver of hope outside. Shaking my head, I focused my attention on what was inside the train. There stood mountains of gourmet foods and many pieces of expensive-looking furniture. The walls were of a deep blue and complimented the silvery automatic doors that connected the rooms together. I slumped further into my chair and stared out the window again. I eventually put myself into a daze. The moving trees began to blend together as I tried to decipher my emotions and thoughts from the past eight hours.

As I stared into the sky, I saw flashbacks from the reaping. I saw myself looking up at our district from far away. I was squinting into the sunlight so I could see her. I saw my pull out a piece of paper from the large bowl beside her. That piece of paper, obviously, had my name written on it. But I had no idea until I heard her call out my name.

“Park…Chanyeol.” I heard her say very slowly.

My blood froze as the whole district fell absolutely silent. I had never felt so numb. I remember how much my breathing got faster and deeper. I had goose bumps rising on my arms and legs, and I couldn’t move at all, even if I tried. A few Peacekeepers had pushed me into the center aisle of the crowd, but I still couldn’t move or look up. I felt my eyes water, and I couldn’t even tell if it was because of shock, or if it was because I couldn’t even blink.

“Chanyeol?” asked the . “Come, come quickly!”

A Peacemaker pushed me forward, which made my father’s hat fall off my head. But I didn’t bother to pick it up. I knew I couldn’t. Besides, it wouldn’t do much, since I’ll probably never see it again. I hesitantly walked up the steps to the platform where the district stood. I peered out into the crowd, and I found my mother and father, holding hands, and staring at me with sadness and anxiousness in their eyes. It felt like I stood up there forever.

“Now,” my said boldly. “Please give a round of applause for this year’s tribute for District 12!” She outstretched both of her arms in my direction.

Like every year, when we are told to clap for the new tributes, we don’t. Instead, the crowd gives the tributes the three-finger salute. It’s a salute that represents honor, admiration, thankfulness, and a farewell. I gazed into the crowd that saluted me, and I automatically returned the salute. Three fingers to my lips, then raised in the air. I was still staring into the crowd when the Peacekeepers on the platform pushed me into the doors of the central building and shut them tight.

Then it was dead silent. I closed my eyes, wondering if this was really happening to me. I thought about it hard until I heard one of the iron doors open. I saw my parents walk into the room. They still had the expression of shock plastered on their faces. Immediately, my mother ran to hug me tight for the last time. I felt her tears soaking through my shirt.

“You have four minutes,” said a Peacekeeper guarding the door.

 “Mother, don’t cry.” I whispered to her.  “I’ll be fine.” My mother didn’t respond. She only kept crying into my shoulder. My father walked toward me and reached for something in his pocket.

“Give me your hand,” my father told me. I slowly opened my hand and raised it toward him. He opened his and placed some kind of necklace in my hand.

“What is it?” I asked him.

“My gift to you. It’s a phoenix necklace. Please. Keep this with you at all times. It will keep you safe, no matter where you are.” My father leaned in and kissed my forehead. Then he placed a hand on my mother, who was still weeping on me.

“Mother,” I said. “Do you remember that lullaby you used to sing to me when I was a baby?”

She still didn’t answer, so I cleared my throat and began to sing the familiar melody to comfort her.

“Baby don’t cry, tonight

Eodumi geodhigo namyeon

Baby don’t cry, tonight

eobseotdeon il-i dwell geoya…”

Two Peacekeepers busted the door open after I sang. One took my father by the arms and escorted him out, while the other pried my mother off of me. I watched my mother cry and scream as the Peacekeeper tore her from me. Her shrieks resonated throughout the halls, and even now, I can still hear them in my head.

Some other officials, as well as my , directed me to the train that I was supposed to board. “This train is Capitol-bound, dear,” said my happily. The automatic doors slid open in one swift motion, and my motioned me to step into the train car. “You first,” she said with a smile. I stepped into the vehicle and took in my surroundings with awe. Everything’s so perfect and pristine. But it’s the Capitol. You can expect nothing less.

Now here I am, in this moving vehicle, peering out into nowhere, and revisiting my memories when I should be enjoying myself on this train. I should be talking to my mentor or my , but both are nowhere to be found. So I sit here, waiting and thinking. I noticed that I could see buildings out in the horizon. Modern, contemporary buildings. I continued to stare out the window even longer until I heard the sound of a door opening behind me.

“Ah, we are almost here, Chanyeol!” My cheered as she pranced into the room. “Do you see those buildings? That’s the Capitol! Now remember…” She cleared . “Now remember that all the Capitol civilians want to see you, so be sure to wave out the window when you have a chance!”

I nodded in response. With perfect timing, the train began to slow down and the view outside was flooded with people in colorful, odd-looking outfits and hairstyles. Some wore large hats that sat daintily on the tops of their heads, while others wore hairdos of white, green, blue, and any other color on the spectrum. They all waved and cheered at me with excitement and anticipation. A smile crept onto my face as I raised my hand and waved back at them through the window. Everyone who saw me smiled even more and shouted louder in the crowd. By the time the train had finished passing through the pool of Capitol civilians, I was beaming and laughing. The train had gotten even slower by the minute and eventually came to a screeching halt. I felt my ’s hand on my back.

“Come, come,” she said as she pushed me off the train and into the terminal. “We still have a packed schedule today.”

All the horrors of the Hunger Games, which were now cloaked in positivity, almost made me forget about the fact that I’ll be turned into a killing machine in two weeks.