The murmurs and whispers surrounding Eden seemed to merge into a droning hum; even louder than a bug buzzing in his ear. As the time of the annoucement drew closer, his dread became heavier and more painful in his chest. Taking into consideration his slim chance of being picked did little to calm his nerves. The only thing that stuck out in his mind about the chances was that he had a greater likelihood that he would be chosen than most of the adolescents. Prior to this, he had his name cast forty-two times for the additional rations and supplies he would recieve. The preceding year hadn't been the most productive time for the orchards of District 11.<br/><br/>"Welcome, District 11," cried the ridiculously cheerful announcer, who had spiky blue hair and wore a flamboyant green leather suit, "to the second 74th Hunger Games!" The words of the ostentatious announcer drifted into the back of Eden's mind; he was too occupied with calming himself down to pay attention to anything beyond his mind.<span style="font-style: italic">Everything will be fine</span>, he drilled into his head.<span style="font-style: italic">Just a few more minutes. You can last that long.</span>By the time he returned to the outside world, the girl tributes had already been announced. The announcer clapped for the unfortunate ones and said, "Now, it's the men's turn."<br/><br/>Eden took in a slow and deep breath and told himself,<span style="font-style: italic">Control yourself.</span><br/>The announcer put his hand in the large glass bowl.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">It'll all be over and I can go back.</span><br/>He pulled out a piece of paper and opened it.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">Then everything can return to normal.</span><br/>He stepped back to the microphone to announce the name on the piece of paper.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">Except without Amshel.</span><br/><br/>"Eden Hayvick."<br/><br/>It took a moment for the owner of that name to realize that the two words spoken was his name. His initial thought was that it was only his imagination, but knew it wasn't when everyone turned to stare at him. A wave of nausea and faitness swept over him as his knees grew weaker by the moment. He staggered to the side before composing himself, only just enough to stand. The announcer beckoned him, saying, "Come on up, Eden!" The first step toward the stage nearly caused Eden to collapse, but he slowly advanced in its direction. Once he was beside it, it seemed to tower over him like a giant wall with the announcer reaching toward him at the top. Exhaling a breath in shudders, Eden climbed the stairs and once he got onto it, the announcer grasped his arm and pulled him out into center stage and cried, "Happy Hunger Games!" When Eden scanned the crowd, his eyes settled on the stricken face of his father.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I don't think I can do this</span>, thought Eden with his eyes downcast and his back against the wall. He and his family were back at his seedy, little cottage to obtain a token and spend a few last minutes together with the Peacekeepers outside, waiting to take Eden away to the Capitol. His father was pacing through the living room, keeping to himself most of the time.<br/><br/>"Would you like to bring this?" asked Rosell to Eden, holding up a beaded necklace as an option for a token. He stared at it and shook his head, remembering the suicide committed by a tribute with his token necklace. She sighed and went back to rummaging through drawers and boxes. "What about something useful? Like the crowbar in the shed?"<span style="font-style: italic">Is this really happening to me?</span>Eden asked himself.<span style="font-style: italic">Could this be a dream?</span><br/><br/>"No," said Eden's father, Balthar, as he paced about. "They won't accept anything that could be considered a weapon." Rosell released a frustrated sigh and lamented, "Well, anything can be used as a weapon. Even a necklace; it could strangle someone!" Eden flinched at those words; the sight of that hanged body seemed to be freshly etched in his head. Balthar halted his pacing and turned to glower at his sister, shouting, "I think that we have more important things to consider other than what the<span style="font-style: italic">goddamn token should be</span>!" As other two were still and silent, he continued, "Like the fact that my only living son is being taken away to an<span style="font-style: italic">almost-certain death</span>!" Rosell put her hands on her brother's arms and said calmly, "I'm so sorry, Balthar. Forgive me. I know this is difficult, but I'm trying to help the best I can." Balthar nodded to her, but didn't meet her gaze.<br/><br/>Eden idly looked around the room for possibilities and noticed the blue silk ribbon that his brother used to wear around his wrist folded on the mantle. He picked it up and stroked it between his thumb and fingers. Looking back at her nephew, Rosell put her arms around him and said, "Oh, that's perfect. You could use it to tie back that messy hair of yours."<br/><br/>"It's been nearly ten minutes," said a Peacekeeper in the doorway. "Hurry up." Eden gave the indifferent man a despaired look as his aunt pulled him into an embrace. His heart began to ache unbearably and tears burned in his eyes like acid. Balthar lowered his eyes and said, "Eden, we need to get going now." Eden looked at his father with desperation and choked out, "<span style="font-style: italic">I can't</span>." Balthar looked at his son with a pained expression. Eden shook his head as he whispered, "I can't do this. I-I'm not strong enough."<br/><br/>Balthar let out a melancholic sigh and murmured, "I'm sorry, Eden. You have to." Tears streamed down Eden's face as he pleaded, "<span style="font-style: italic">Dad, help me</span>." His father lowered his head, trying not to crack as he says, "I can't do anything for you, Eden. I'm sorry." He walked toward his son and wrapped his arms around him firmly, saying, "Do it for your brother."<br/><br/>A few Peacekeepers came inside and guided Eden out to the train. All of the citizens were crowded outside of the train. As he passed by, Eden heard someone say, "He's not going to make it." Another person muttered, "Poor thing will probably die within minutes." He heard one other person say, "I'm sure Amshel would win it." As he boarded the train, Eden gave one last look to his father.<br/><br/>"I'm so sorry, Balthar," said a family friend as she walked up beside him. "I can't imagine how hard it is to both of your sons in less than a year." Balthar stayed silent, only staring as the doors of the train closed over his son's face. He wanted to believe that he could survive; he wanted to believe that he could win the Games; he wanted to believe that his last son could return home, but he knew it was hopeless. The Hunger Games swallowed his son whole... once again.