Everyone in District 4 was in their best attire, but not in their best mood. The dread was evident in the people's faces. Even if the people were smiling, the melancholic look in their eyes told it all: they were suffering. Parents nearly overcome with anxiety told their children to be strong and that it will all be okay, however hypocritical it was. Children trying to hide themselves in their naÃ¯ve sense of security tell their parents not to worry and that they are fine, although they know the danger they are in.<br/><br/>Only few didn't experience these harrowing feelings. One of these people was Stark Hellebore, whose lively gait through the crowd of people seemed to show he didn't have a care in the world. However, that assumption would be wrong for he had one and only care that day: volunteering for the Hunger Games. His heart was pumping furiously with excitement. As the Reaping drew nearer, his mood was the most joyful he had been in years. This was his day. The day he was meant to finally<span style="font-style: italic">become</span>.<br/><br/>Stark's large pupils jumped from one end of his vision to the other as he devoured the images surrounding him. The worrisome adults, the trembling kids, the white stage, the armed men in black and white uniforms flanking the white stage, the tables with people scanning blood samples, the large screens above the white stage; it was so much to take in and Stark wanted to capture it all and imprint it in his memory.<br/><br/>"Stark!" cried a distant voice and Stark's eyes dulled at the sound of it. "Dammit, boy! Where are you?" He slipped in line for a blood test, hoping that the voice wouldn't find him. "Stark!"<span style="font-style: italic">That sounded closer</span>, he thought with dread.<span style="font-style: italic">Shit.</span>Only a moment later did Stark feel powerful hands clutch his shoulders and force him around. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" thundered his father with blazing dark blue eyes. "Why would you go off without me?" Stark jerked himself out of his father's grasp yet said nothing; he only glowered back at his father with the same navy eyes. His father, Reilyr, took Stark's jaw in his hand and growled, "Answer me!" Stark pushed his father's hand away and shouted, "Get off me!" He turned around to face the line and Reilyr glared at his son's back, saying, "This is the most important day of our lives and you're acting like a five-year-old. Why are you doing this?" While keeping his back toward his father, Stark turned to look at him and said, "This is my day, not yours, so go away." Reilyr gawked at his son as he got his blood tested.<br/><br/>"I made you who you are, Stark," said Reilyr in a grim tone. "You wouldn't have gotten this far without me." Turning to face his father, he smiled and said, "Thanks, by the way." After that, Stark walked into the men's crowd as his father stared after him in disbelief.