Although the dressing procedure was long and tedious, the time before the Reaping was passing swiftly for Eden. His mind often wandered as his aunt repeatedly combed back his untidy hair in an achingly tight ponytail as he was sitting in front of a mirror. His idling head conjured many different thoughts about the upcoming Hunger Games. He recalled memories of watching it with one incident standing out: a tribute had committed suicide by hanging himself from his token necklace. This was the first Games he saw, which was at the age of eleven. His father never allowed him to watch it until then because the next year would be the first year that Eden would be eligible to participate in the Games. His father wanted to have him see what he was in for beforehand, just in case he was chosen.<br/><br/>"I don't understand why you don't just cut this hair off," lamented his aunt, Rosell, as she undid Eden's  ponytail for the third time. "It just gets in the way." Eden looked up at the mirror and smiled wryly.<br/><br/>"Yeah," he responded with indifference. "I guess it does." Rosell slid her fingers through his hair as she said, "You know, I could give you a quick haircut before you go." As soon as those words reached his ears, Eden gave an abrupt, "No." Rosell's hand as well as her body recoiled from him, as if his rejection forced her back. She stared at his blank face through the mirror with a taken aback expression; he wasn't looking back.<br/><br/>"A little on edge, are we?" she asked after a moment of silence. "Or are you really that defensive about your hair?" Eden's truthful answer would be both, but he replied with, "I'm just nervous. Sorry." The reason Eden values his hair is not due to his ego, but rather because his brother, Amshel, once complimented him when his hair was shaggy.<br/><br/>"You look cool," Amshel had said. "Like a rebel." Ever since then, Eden has never cut his hair.<br/><br/>Once Rosell finally gave up on making the perfect ponytail, she had him stand up and began to brush off his white button-up. She smiled and said, "Okay, you're ready to be reaped!" As she laughed, Eden managed to force a few giggles out himself. How he really felt about that joke was pure dread that he could feel as dull pain in his chest. Of all the thoughts that ran through his head, the possibility that he could be chosen was the one that returned again and again. He has had that dread ever since his first Reaping, and every year it has gotten worse. He knew that hundreds of others felt the same way, but that never comforted him in the slightest.<br/><br/>"Where's my father?" asked Eden as Rosell continued to tidy him up.<br/><br/>"I think that he's already at the Reaping." Eden's eyes lowered and she gave him a sheepish look. "This isn't easy for him, you should know." He nodded and replied curtly, "No, I do. I'm fine." With a sigh, Rosell wrapped her arms around her nephew and, being rather short, put her head against his shoulder. Eden returned the embrace readily, but asked, "Are you fine?" He felt her back tremble under his hands and held her tighter, with his compassion soothing his dread.<span style="font-style: italic">Amshel</span>, thought Eden as his eyes burned.<span style="font-style: italic">This hug should be for you, brother.</span>