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Description
The anthem ends abruptly. Too soon. I look down and see a group of Peacekeepers waiting for us. Their faces are familiar, yet all I see now is a threat. They may be kind in District 12 but that doesn't change the fact that they're under the authority of the Capitol.

And because of the Capitol, I'm going to die.

I hesitate. Katniss strides forward and down the steps, staring straight ahead in stony acceptance. All her fear and desperation from earlier has evaporated as if it never existed.

She's strong. She knows how to deal with hardship. I'm weak and soft and quaking in my boots. There's no way I can win these Games. She's already stronger than I am.

I follow her down the steps and a Peacekeeper grabs onto my elbow lightly. He's only guiding me but still I flinch and pull away. The Justice Building looms up before us and the door is opening and then we're inside. I feel strange and removed from the rest of the District as soon as the doors have shut.

I realize I never even looked back. Maybe it's better that way. The sooner I accept I'm not coming home, the easier things will be.

We're led down a hall to the right. Katniss goes into a room on the left and then I'm shunted into another farther down. This must be where I'll be saying my goodbyes.

Once inside I find myself standing on a thick maroon carpet. I sit on the couch and marvel at how soft and silky the cushions feel. It must be velvet. My mother is always complaining about how badly she wants a velvet dress, like the ones worn by fancy women in the Capitol.

The Capitol.

I shiver involuntarily. This still feels so surreal. I'm going into the Games. How is that possible? Sure, I've been terrified of being chosen every year, but who isn't? I never thought I'd be selected. I've never even had to take tesserae. I don't have any skills to use in the arena. None that will keep me alive.

And I'm going in with Katniss. How can I even attempt to survive these Games if it means she will die? If I live, she dies. If she lives, I die.

The room is getting claustrophobic. I'm just thinking of cracking the windows open for a breath of fresh air when the door creaks open.

My family.

They shuffle in awkwardly. My brothers refuse to look at me and my mother seems torn. My father is staring at me. His eyes are big and round and full of emotion and he looks as if he's about to cry.

I don't know what to do. I stare at them blankly, the air catching in my throat. Say something, I will in my head. Anything.

My father lets out a strange cry. It sounds like he started to sob but suppressed it, or maybe even tried to turn it into a laugh. Either way I suddenly find his arms around me and my face buried in his shoulder. And that's when I begin to cry.

I clutch my father to me. My hands claw desperately at the fabric of his shirt. I feel like a child again, young and vulnerable and wanting nothing more than my parent's protection. But I know they can't help me now.

I don't know how long it's been when he pulls away. He looks embarrassed. Gruffly, he takes a seat next to me on the couch and wipes his eyes.

"I don't want to go."

The words escape my mouth before I even realize I've thought them. It's the only thing I can think of to say. The silence that follows stretches out so long it becomes unbearable.

"I know." He's staring at the ground now, as if concentrating on every little ripple and shadow in the carpet. He pulls out a small paper bag, hands me a cookie and is silent.

This is how we stay for the remainder of the hour. I hold the cookie tightly in my hand. I don't have the stomach to eat it. My mother and brothers say nothing.

The door opens again and I realize our time is up. The desperation hits me out of nowhere. I don't want them to leave. They can't. If they leave, I'll be taken away. I may never see them again. If they go, I'm going to leave District 12 forever.

There's nothing I can do but watch as one by one, my family files out the door. Except for my mother. She hesitates, staring at me with a strange expression I can't comprehend.

"Maybe District 12 will finally have a winner."

I stare at her. Is this her way of supporting me? Of showing that she hopes I'll come home? Is it possible the despite the years of neglect and harsh words, she actually feels something for me?

She sees my shock and her faces becomes stony. Impassive.

"She's a survivor, that one."

And then she's gone. I stare at the doorway. I'm crushed. My mother has said a number of terrible things to me during my life. But none as low as that. Is there anyone who has faith I'll return? Anyone who thinks I have what it takes? Is there anyone, anyone at all who wants me to come home?

I imagine my family without me. They would be happy. They would be normal. My father would be sad and empty for a while but even he would move on. Eventually. This is the way things go in District 12. Hardship and heartbreak happen, but you have to move on. You have to get back on your feet and act like nothing's happened because that's the only way you'll survive. My family will be happy and they will be normal and maybe, after enough time has passed, they'll barely think of me at all.

The loneliness crushes me. I can't breathe. The world is swimming before my eyes and I realize I'm crying again. The warm, salty tears run down my cheeks and I don't bother to wipe them away. What does it matter?

What does anything matter anymore?

The Games. The Games matter. I can't give up now, not before it's even started. What will the arena be like? I shudder as past Games flit through my mind. Will it be snowy? Or scorching hot, a desert? Will there be poison? Strange traps hidden away, waiting for the first unsuspecting tribute to discover them?

The little resolve I managed to build up crumbles in a heap as all the possibilities rage through my mind. Whatever it is, it will mean death. In one way or another the arena will be lethal, and the only thing I can do now is hope.

There's movement by the door and I look up. Prim. The little girl who nearly faced the Games today is walking by, hand in hand with her mother, and for a moment we lock eyes. And then she's gone.

I don't know what to think. Would I rather my district partner have been her, or Katniss? Would I rather be faced with the possibility of murdering the young 12 year old, or the girl I'm in love with?

There's too many "what ifs". I can't afford to think like that. Not now. I need to focus on what's ahead. I need to focus on the Games and decide what I want to do--fight my hardest to stay alive at the expense of Katniss' life? Or let her live, even if it means my own death?

I don't know. I honestly don't know.

A Peacekeeper enters the room. I don't stand so he grabs me by the arm and lifts me up. My legs feel numb and weak. I can do nothing but shuffle forward blindly.

I vaguely realize that we've entered a car. I've never been in one before and unfortunately, given the circumstances, I can't find it in me to appreciate the ride. It's short anyways.

We arrive at the train station and I'm alarmed to see it's full of reporters. I'm not ready for this. I don't want to be filmed. I don't want to be broadcasted all across Panem for the Capitol's sick enjoyment.

I stand beside Katniss in the train's doorway. We both stare unseeingly past the sea of cameras and faces trying desperately to get our attention. I do my best to hold in the tears but I'm not fooling anyone.

I must look so weak. I'm off to a bad start already.

The doors close and the noise of the train station is deadened immediately. I have barely any time to be thankful for this before the train sets off, and then all I can think about is how fast we're moving. How quickly did they say Capitol trains go? 250 miles per hour? I don't even have the capacity to understand how fast that really is, but looking out the window tells me that it must be very, very fast. I can see nothing but blurs of color as we race past trees and hills and grass.

I stick around just long enough to hear Effie mention we will arrive at the Capitol in less than 24 hours. I follow a tipsy Haymitch down a narrow corridor and to my room. He mumbles something about laying down for a nap, but I barely hear him. I shut myself in my room and collapse onto the bed, staring unseeingly at the ceiling.

Denial. That's the only way I can describe how I'm feeling. It was horrifying before, but now I'm actually on the train. I've left District 12 for the first time in my life and I'm on the way to the Capitol.

I'm never coming home.

It hits me then. The certainty. I'm going to die. I'm not going to survive these games. I have no chance, no chance at all.

I can't keep thinking this way. I need to distract my mind. I lurch off the bed and stare at the room surrounding me. After a bit of exploring I learn I have my own private bathroom, complete with a shower and warm running water. I resolve to make use of this later, after dinner. I don't have the motivation to anything but the bare minimum at the moment. I also have a wardrobe full of clothing: recently ironed button down shirts, black and brown slacks, ties. Even a few pair of shoes. I shut the wardrobe door in disgust.

For the next hour I stare out my window, taking in the blurs of color that are only evidence of the world flashing by. Green. Brown. A flash of blue sky here and there.

I vaguely remember Effie mentioning something about dinner, and so I decide to go investigate the meal car. No one is there yet. I take a seat carefully, eyeing the very expensive looking glassware and china sitting atop the table.

Moments later, Katniss and Effie Trinket enter. I catch Katniss' gaze for a moment before she looks away. My stomach twists.

"Where's Haymitch?" Effie sounds chipper as usual.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap." I respond, trying to keep my voice neutral.

Effie brightens even more at this news, if possible. "Well, it's been an exhausting day."

The dinner comes then and the Games are pushed out of my mind, if only briefly. The food is fantastic. Being part of a merchant family, I've always eaten better than most in District 12. But even what I'm used to having pales in comparison to the Capitol food. Course after course comes. It's never ending and after a few minutes I already feel uncomfortably full. I can see Katniss barely containing herself as more and more food is brought to the table.

"At least you two have decent manners," Effie says, sniffing in distaste at some memory from a past Games. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."

The image of little Katniss, emaciated and starving flashes through my mind and all of sudden I'm furious with this woman. I remember those tributes. Starvation was one of the only things they knew.

The meal ends and Haymitch never shows up. I have mixed feelings on this. On one hand, he's an infuriating drunk who's very difficult to stay in the same room with. On the other, he's our mentor. He's one of the only things that will help us stay alive.

Effie leads us into an another compartment and I resolve to put this out of my mind. It's taking enough willpower just to keep all the Capitol food I've eaten in my stomach.

The new room has a huge TV mounted on the wall. I'm just wondering what we'll use this for when Effie flips it on, and I'm faced with the televised version of another Reaping. My stomach sinks.

It's time to see my opponents. I've been so busy worrying about myself and Katniss that the others barely crossed my mind.

I forget the names nearly as soon as they've been called. There's just too many people. It becomes a blend of sound and images and I only remember a few of the tributes being called. The ones that stand out.

The ones I'll have to watch for.

The Careers, four tributes from Districts 1 and 2, look dangerous. As usual. The girls can't match the brute strength and size of their male counterparts, but they are small and lithe. And that can be deadly. The other tributes range in size and age. Some look dangerous, others look like they can barely handle a kitchen knife. One boy has trouble just making it to the stage and limps all the way with a deformed foot. How can I possibly fight him? He can't properly defend himself.

And then there's the young ones. A small, dark skinned girl is called from District 11. I find myself willing someone to volunteer in her place, but no one steps forward. Silence fills their square and I have to shut my eyes just to block out the image of her standing all alone on that stage. It's all too much. Too much.

Then, there's us. I watch sadly as Katniss volunteers. I feel her stiffen beside me on the couch as her sister's screams are broadcasted through the speakers for all to hear. I get a strange urge to put my arm around her. Comfort her. But I stop myself.

I stop paying attention once my name is called. I don't want to watch. I don't want to see the terror on my face. It makes me feel weak, and that is the last thing I need at the moment. Right now I just need to be strong. I need to build up my resolve and start preparing for the weeks ahead. I snap back to attention as the program ends and Effie speaks up, sounding irritated.

"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

I laugh loudly. It sounds fake, even to my ears. "He was drunk. He's drunk every year."

"Every day," Katniss adds. I look at her in surprise. This is the first time she's so openly acknowledged me since the reaping. It feels nice, but strange at the same time. I realize that I'm smiling.

"Yes, how odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games." She observes us sternly. "The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts." Her voice rises, nearly hysterical. "Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and death!"

Right on cue, Haymitch bursts into the compartment. "I miss supper?"

You can barely understand his slurring, but it doesn't really matter as moments later he dramatically vomits all over the train car's floor.

"So laugh away!" Effie Trinket cries shrilly. She scurries from the room, shooting a disgusted glance at Haymitch before disappearing from view.

I realize she's right. Haymitch is practically useless in this state.

We're doomed.

Description
The anthem ends abruptly. Too soon. I look down and see a group of Peacekeepers waiting for us. Their faces are familiar, yet all I see now is a threat. They may be kind in District 12 but that doesn't change the fact that they're under the authority of the Capitol.

And because of the Capitol, I'm going to die.

I hesitate. Katniss strides forward and down the steps, staring straight ahead in stony acceptance. All her fear and desperation from earlier has evaporated as if it never existed.

She's strong. She knows how to deal with hardship. I'm weak and soft and quaking in my boots. There's no way I can win these Games. She's already stronger than I am.

I follow her down the steps and a Peacekeeper grabs onto my elbow lightly. He's only guiding me but still I flinch and pull away. The Justice Building looms up before us and the door is opening and then we're inside. I feel strange and removed from the rest of the District as soon as the doors have shut.

I realize I never even looked back. Maybe it's better that way. The sooner I accept I'm not coming home, the easier things will be.

We're led down a hall to the right. Katniss goes into a room on the left and then I'm shunted into another farther down. This must be where I'll be saying my goodbyes.

Once inside I find myself standing on a thick maroon carpet. I sit on the couch and marvel at how soft and silky the cushions feel. It must be velvet. My mother is always complaining about how badly she wants a velvet dress, like the ones worn by fancy women in the Capitol.

The Capitol.

I shiver involuntarily. This still feels so surreal. I'm going into the Games. How is that possible? Sure, I've been terrified of being chosen every year, but who isn't? I never thought I'd be selected. I've never even had to take tesserae. I don't have any skills to use in the arena. None that will keep me alive.

And I'm going in with Katniss. How can I even attempt to survive these Games if it means she will die? If I live, she dies. If she lives, I die.

The room is getting claustrophobic. I'm just thinking of cracking the windows open for a breath of fresh air when the door creaks open.

My family.

They shuffle in awkwardly. My brothers refuse to look at me and my mother seems torn. My father is staring at me. His eyes are big and round and full of emotion and he looks as if he's about to cry.

I don't know what to do. I stare at them blankly, the air catching in my throat. Say something, I will in my head. Anything.

My father lets out a strange cry. It sounds like he started to sob but suppressed it, or maybe even tried to turn it into a laugh. Either way I suddenly find his arms around me and my face buried in his shoulder. And that's when I begin to cry.

I clutch my father to me. My hands claw desperately at the fabric of his shirt. I feel like a child again, young and vulnerable and wanting nothing more than my parent's protection. But I know they can't help me now.

I don't know how long it's been when he pulls away. He looks embarrassed. Gruffly, he takes a seat next to me on the couch and wipes his eyes.

"I don't want to go."

The words escape my mouth before I even realize I've thought them. It's the only thing I can think of to say. The silence that follows stretches out so long it becomes unbearable.

"I know." He's staring at the ground now, as if concentrating on every little ripple and shadow in the carpet. He pulls out a small paper bag, hands me a cookie and is silent.

This is how we stay for the remainder of the hour. I hold the cookie tightly in my hand. I don't have the stomach to eat it. My mother and brothers say nothing.

The door opens again and I realize our time is up. The desperation hits me out of nowhere. I don't want them to leave. They can't. If they leave, I'll be taken away. I may never see them again. If they go, I'm going to leave District 12 forever.

There's nothing I can do but watch as one by one, my family files out the door. Except for my mother. She hesitates, staring at me with a strange expression I can't comprehend.

"Maybe District 12 will finally have a winner."

I stare at her. Is this her way of supporting me? Of showing that she hopes I'll come home? Is it possible the despite the years of neglect and harsh words, she actually feels something for me?

She sees my shock and her faces becomes stony. Impassive.

"She's a survivor, that one."

And then she's gone. I stare at the doorway. I'm crushed. My mother has said a number of terrible things to me during my life. But none as low as that. Is there anyone who has faith I'll return? Anyone who thinks I have what it takes? Is there anyone, anyone at all who wants me to come home?

I imagine my family without me. They would be happy. They would be normal. My father would be sad and empty for a while but even he would move on. Eventually. This is the way things go in District 12. Hardship and heartbreak happen, but you have to move on. You have to get back on your feet and act like nothing's happened because that's the only way you'll survive. My family will be happy and they will be normal and maybe, after enough time has passed, they'll barely think of me at all.

The loneliness crushes me. I can't breathe. The world is swimming before my eyes and I realize I'm crying again. The warm, salty tears run down my cheeks and I don't bother to wipe them away. What does it matter?

What does anything matter anymore?

The Games. The Games matter. I can't give up now, not before it's even started. What will the arena be like? I shudder as past Games flit through my mind. Will it be snowy? Or scorching hot, a desert? Will there be poison? Strange traps hidden away, waiting for the first unsuspecting tribute to discover them?

The little resolve I managed to build up crumbles in a heap as all the possibilities rage through my mind. Whatever it is, it will mean death. In one way or another the arena will be lethal, and the only thing I can do now is hope.

There's movement by the door and I look up. Prim. The little girl who nearly faced the Games today is walking by, hand in hand with her mother, and for a moment we lock eyes. And then she's gone.

I don't know what to think. Would I rather my district partner have been her, or Katniss? Would I rather be faced with the possibility of murdering the young 12 year old, or the girl I'm in love with?

There's too many "what ifs". I can't afford to think like that. Not now. I need to focus on what's ahead. I need to focus on the Games and decide what I want to do--fight my hardest to stay alive at the expense of Katniss' life? Or let her live, even if it means my own death?

I don't know. I honestly don't know.

A Peacekeeper enters the room. I don't stand so he grabs me by the arm and lifts me up. My legs feel numb and weak. I can do nothing but shuffle forward blindly.

I vaguely realize that we've entered a car. I've never been in one before and unfortunately, given the circumstances, I can't find it in me to appreciate the ride. It's short anyways.

We arrive at the train station and I'm alarmed to see it's full of reporters. I'm not ready for this. I don't want to be filmed. I don't want to be broadcasted all across Panem for the Capitol's sick enjoyment.

I stand beside Katniss in the train's doorway. We both stare unseeingly past the sea of cameras and faces trying desperately to get our attention. I do my best to hold in the tears but I'm not fooling anyone.

I must look so weak. I'm off to a bad start already.

The doors close and the noise of the train station is deadened immediately. I have barely any time to be thankful for this before the train sets off, and then all I can think about is how fast we're moving. How quickly did they say Capitol trains go? 250 miles per hour? I don't even have the capacity to understand how fast that really is, but looking out the window tells me that it must be very, very fast. I can see nothing but blurs of color as we race past trees and hills and grass.

I stick around just long enough to hear Effie mention we will arrive at the Capitol in less than 24 hours. I follow a tipsy Haymitch down a narrow corridor and to my room. He mumbles something about laying down for a nap, but I barely hear him. I shut myself in my room and collapse onto the bed, staring unseeingly at the ceiling.

Denial. That's the only way I can describe how I'm feeling. It was horrifying before, but now I'm actually on the train. I've left District 12 for the first time in my life and I'm on the way to the Capitol.

I'm never coming home.

It hits me then. The certainty. I'm going to die. I'm not going to survive these games. I have no chance, no chance at all.

I can't keep thinking this way. I need to distract my mind. I lurch off the bed and stare at the room surrounding me. After a bit of exploring I learn I have my own private bathroom, complete with a shower and warm running water. I resolve to make use of this later, after dinner. I don't have the motivation to anything but the bare minimum at the moment. I also have a wardrobe full of clothing: recently ironed button down shirts, black and brown slacks, ties. Even a few pair of shoes. I shut the wardrobe door in disgust.

For the next hour I stare out my window, taking in the blurs of color that are only evidence of the world flashing by. Green. Brown. A flash of blue sky here and there.

I vaguely remember Effie mentioning something about dinner, and so I decide to go investigate the meal car. No one is there yet. I take a seat carefully, eyeing the very expensive looking glassware and china sitting atop the table.

Moments later, Katniss and Effie Trinket enter. I catch Katniss' gaze for a moment before she looks away. My stomach twists.

"Where's Haymitch?" Effie sounds chipper as usual.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap." I respond, trying to keep my voice neutral.

Effie brightens even more at this news, if possible. "Well, it's been an exhausting day."

The dinner comes then and the Games are pushed out of my mind, if only briefly. The food is fantastic. Being part of a merchant family, I've always eaten better than most in District 12. But even what I'm used to having pales in comparison to the Capitol food. Course after course comes. It's never ending and after a few minutes I already feel uncomfortably full. I can see Katniss barely containing herself as more and more food is brought to the table.

"At least you two have decent manners," Effie says, sniffing in distaste at some memory from a past Games. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."

The image of little Katniss, emaciated and starving flashes through my mind and all of sudden I'm furious with this woman. I remember those tributes. Starvation was one of the only things they knew.

The meal ends and Haymitch never shows up. I have mixed feelings on this. On one hand, he's an infuriating drunk who's very difficult to stay in the same room with. On the other, he's our mentor. He's one of the only things that will help us stay alive.

Effie leads us into an another compartment and I resolve to put this out of my mind. It's taking enough willpower just to keep all the Capitol food I've eaten in my stomach.

The new room has a huge TV mounted on the wall. I'm just wondering what we'll use this for when Effie flips it on, and I'm faced with the televised version of another Reaping. My stomach sinks.

It's time to see my opponents. I've been so busy worrying about myself and Katniss that the others barely crossed my mind.

I forget the names nearly as soon as they've been called. There's just too many people. It becomes a blend of sound and images and I only remember a few of the tributes being called. The ones that stand out.

The ones I'll have to watch for.

The Careers, four tributes from Districts 1 and 2, look dangerous. As usual. The girls can't match the brute strength and size of their male counterparts, but they are small and lithe. And that can be deadly. The other tributes range in size and age. Some look dangerous, others look like they can barely handle a kitchen knife. One boy has trouble just making it to the stage and limps all the way with a deformed foot. How can I possibly fight him? He can't properly defend himself.

And then there's the young ones. A small, dark skinned girl is called from District 11. I find myself willing someone to volunteer in her place, but no one steps forward. Silence fills their square and I have to shut my eyes just to block out the image of her standing all alone on that stage. It's all too much. Too much.

Then, there's us. I watch sadly as Katniss volunteers. I feel her stiffen beside me on the couch as her sister's screams are broadcasted through the speakers for all to hear. I get a strange urge to put my arm around her. Comfort her. But I stop myself.

I stop paying attention once my name is called. I don't want to watch. I don't want to see the terror on my face. It makes me feel weak, and that is the last thing I need at the moment. Right now I just need to be strong. I need to build up my resolve and start preparing for the weeks ahead. I snap back to attention as the program ends and Effie speaks up, sounding irritated.

"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

I laugh loudly. It sounds fake, even to my ears. "He was drunk. He's drunk every year."

"Every day," Katniss adds. I look at her in surprise. This is the first time she's so openly acknowledged me since the reaping. It feels nice, but strange at the same time. I realize that I'm smiling.

"Yes, how odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games." She observes us sternly. "The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts." Her voice rises, nearly hysterical. "Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and death!"

Right on cue, Haymitch bursts into the compartment. "I miss supper?"

You can barely understand his slurring, but it doesn't really matter as moments later he dramatically vomits all over the train car's floor.

"So laugh away!" Effie Trinket cries shrilly. She scurries from the room, shooting a disgusted glance at Haymitch before disappearing from view.

I realize she's right. Haymitch is practically useless in this state.

We're doomed.