It's been a while since I updated, I got a job for the first time in my life. Anyway, sorry for a lot of the grammar mistakes here. I mix up tenses a lot, and there's a point where I even messed up POV. I tried to fix it, but it still may not be perfect. Anyway, enjoy.

Lilith

My mouth fell open, and I stared at my uncle, not being able to understand what he was saying.

Me? President? I hadn't even finished schooling yet!

"I don't know," I say, trying to find words, "I've just, I've never even thought of it."

"Do you have your mind particularly sent on something else?"

Honestly, no. For the most part, people did what their parents did. But I had no interest in my father's career, and my mother hadn't ever needed to work. I had just assumed I would figure it out eventually, and here I was being given an option on a silver platter.

"I've, I don't have any idea." I admit.

He nods. "Of course, this can't be an easy decision for you. At least not one you can make immediately. You do have time, plenty of it. I still have a few more years at the very least, but you will need to decide before you finish your schooling in a few months time."

"Why?" I ask, "Why so soon?"

He sighs, "The people of Panem, they trust me, and they are loyal, but currently you have no professional work in the government. When it's my time, if you have not done anything in the field, they may hesitate to take you on as my predecessor." He clears his throat, "That is why I am coming to you now, Lilith. My own daughter, Miranda, she is just not up for the job, and she knows that as well. She'd rather go into fashion work. And you, you remind me of myself when I was in school. That is how I know you will be fit for the job."

Five minutes ago I had no idea what my future would bring. Now I had a future almost entirely confirmed in front of me, if I just decided to take it. And not just any job; I would be the President. This country I have loved for so long, it would be me in charge of it all. I couldn't even imagine power on that scale. I couldn't imagine having millions of people looking up to me as their protector. A whole country, mine, if I wanted it.

Did I want it? I didn't know. My mother clearly hadn't; she had let her brother have it once their father died. My cousin Miranda who was almost thirty, didn't seem to want the responsibility either. But me, I had always loved classes on our country's history and loved participating in debates. Didn't that all add up to working in the government eventually? I just thought they were thing I happened to be interested in, I didn't think of actually making a career out of it. But then again, what else would I want to do?

All of that power, it did seem wonderful, but I couldn't help but be scared. I couldn't even wrap my mind around everything that I would be in charge of. I thought of all the protection that was around me, just to keep me safe, and I was just the president's niece. How much danger was my uncle in all the time? He could never go anywhere without guards, and the president's house had over a hundred people working surveillance all of the time. Although most of the people in the Capitol were loyal, there were always people going against the power. During the rebellion twenty five years ago, there were rebels from the Capitol as well. My grandfather had nearly been killed then. Could I handle a rebellion like my grandfather did?

I didn't think that I could. When I hear about how my grandfather was able to thwart an entire rebellion, I was always in awe of the story and his power. It was always like a magic tale; a story of a superhero saving a city. What if something like that happened to me? Would I be able to handle it? Would I know what to do?

"I..." I began.

"You don't need to decide now," He put a hand on my shoulder. "You have time. I promise."

I nodded, but didn't make eye contact with him. When we first heard of Uncle Posy's illness a few years ago, we were sure that he would be able to fight it away. But over the years, he's gotten worse. His hair has gone from jet black to completely white in a few years, probably a combination of the illness and the stress of being in charge of the country. The problems with his walking had started recently. Although they had been able to slow down the spreading of the disease through his body, even the best doctors in the country hadn't been able to get rid of it entirely. I didn't know exactly was wrong with my uncle; I'd only heard this when eavesdropping on my parent's conversations. I'd never heard of anyone else having the same deteriorating condition.

"I just need some time," I admitted, trying not to catch his gaze. "This is a lot to think about."

"And I completely understand. I wouldn't be asking you like this if it was not desperate. If you choose to turn this down, I understand. But I need to know soon, so I can find another predecessor. I hope you understand, Lilith."

"I do." I gulped.

He balanced himself on the chair, trying to stand up, "I believe in you, Lilith. You can handle this job, I know you can. Don't ever doubt your own power, and don't ever doubt your own instinct. I think that you have the ability to run this country in a way that will make you and your grandfather proud, but if you do not feel that it is your destiny, only you can know that."

"I just don't even know what I would have to do," I said, "I have no idea what the job entails, what I'll have to do, or how to run a country-"

"I will help you," he says, comforting me, "I won't leave you hanging, trust me," he winks.

His guards enter the room then, along with my parents. They talk for a moment before departing, my uncle looking back at me and winking before going.

"Well you said yes, right? Please tell me you said yes? Come on Lil tell me-"

"I told him I needed time," I groaned, leaning back on my bed. On the other side of the screen in my room, Castalia was freaking out.

"You need time? Lilith, you'll be the most powerful person in the country. You'll be in charge of the Hunger Games. It's basically a dream job. What do you have to think about?"

"It's a lot of responsibility."

"Everything is a lot of responsibility, and who better to run the country than you? You're first in our class! You're the president of like five different clubs! You clearly have your life together."

"What about what you were saying this morning about my clothing an attitude making me unpopular," I cross my legs.

She waves her hand in front of her face, "Not important. Once you become president, all of your weird quirks will become admirable quirks. When you become president, everyone will want to dress like you." She makes a face then, obviously thinking about how the fashion will change when I become president. "On second thought, can I be your stylist?"

"I thought you wanted to be an escort?"

"Because I never thought I'd have the opportunity to be stylist for the president. You'll be the first female president in a while. You'd basically control the fashion for the entire country, which means that if I'm your stylist, I control the fashion for the country. Think about it-"

I didn't think about it. She continued rambling on while my mind shifted to Abel. What he had said to me earlier, even with my uncle's proposal, I couldn't get it out of my head.

You're too far gone.

You wouldn't understand.

I had never seen Abel like that. He'd never hold something back from me; we were best friends, after all. All I wanted to do was talk to him about this news, but I had a feeling that even if I did get a hold of him, he would not react happily.

"Do you know what's up with Abel?" I ask, interrupting Cas.

She looks stunned, and then shakes her head. "No. I have no idea. Been acting pretty weird, if you ask me."

"I saw him today, but only for a minute," I said, "He was so strange, talking about how I was too far gone and wouldn't understand him. He said he was dropping out of school."

"What?" She looked astonished, "Like his brother?"

"That's what he told me."

She shook her head, "It's a shame really. He always seemed angry that his brother ran off to District 2. I would never imagine him doing the same. The horror his parents must be going through..."

"We don't know if he's going to District 2," I said, "He never mentioned that. He just said he was dropping out of school."

"Well, what other reason would he have to drop out of school," she began to examine her nails, "He was doing pretty well, and we only have a few months left. I think he's following in his brother's footsteps. Oh, his family's reputation must be ruined now. Losing both of their children to such a low level job, I would never put my parents through that."

I tried not to roll her eyes. Castalia's parents would rather her go into business or economics like them instead of being an escort or a stylist. Of course, I guess that wasn't as bad as your child going off to be a peacekeeper, training in the districts of all places.

"Why do we even hate that job so much?" I ask. "I mean, we need peacekeepers in order to keep this country going, don't we? They offer protection and order."

"See, that's you thinking like a president." She winked at me. "Let me offer you advice from your stylist. Peacekeepers are mostly people from the Districts. People from District 2, particularly. Even though we are close with that district, they aren't us, they are not the Capitol, and they have still betrayed us countless times. Why would someone who lives here want to have a job of someone from the districts? It's practically choosing to dehumanize yourself! I don't understand it at all. Enjoy your life here, don't lower yourself like that."

"So you really think that's what Abel left to do," I whispered, "You think he's going to be a peacekeeper? Work in the districts?"

"That would be my guess," I see her reapplying green lip gloss, "In my opinion, he's always seemed like a little bit of a loose cannon, don't you think?"

No, I didn't think so at all, but I didn't say that. I didn't particularly want to get in an argument.

She must see that I'm upset, and she sighs. "Listen, Lilith, he's my friend too. And I...I know I come off as harsh, but really, that's how I show concern." She crinkled her face, as if trying to forget that brief moment of almost-kindness. "So, what did you think of the reapings? I'm betting on District 4 girl or District 2 boy. I kind of like the boy from three as an underdog, but I don't know if he'll be able to make it."

I grinned, liking having something else to talk about, "I liked those people too. The girl from District 2 is tough."

"Yeah, they're all tough, but they always seem the same too. We have another lousy career this year too. That girl from District 1, did you see her? Heels and a dress? Like she arrived for a fashion show? Like, come on. I commend her fashion, but this is not the time. She made it by pure luck. She'll be lucky to survive the bloodbath.

I agreed. I couldn't imagine going through that. But I wasn't from the districts, my ancestors didn't break the laws, so I didn't need to think about it.

Moonlight

I've only seen the Hall of Victors in Town Hall a few times. Through almost 100 years of the Hunger Games, we've had exactly 18 victors. District 2 beats us with 3, and District 4 has 13. Basically, a career tribute has over half a chance of winning. In a month, my face will be added to this hall.

I'm guided down by peacekeepers, Prize next to me. They crowd around us, as if we'll try to run around. They must be new. We want this.

I see the face of Pearl, most recently added, and Glow next to hers. I see Cashmere's portrait, and hers has a special red frame, since she won twice. Her brothers is next to hers; she had to kill him herself in order to win the 75th Games. Soon, my picture will be added to this wall, securing my place in the legacy forever.

My dreams were finally coming through. Nobody could take this away from me now. I would live in elegant buildings and never have to worry about work a day in my life. I would go to parties in the Capitol, and be friends with the other victors. I would wear beautiful dresses, and never have to worry about training anything ever again. My siblings could live off of me, and my parents would be able to retire early. For generations, people would remember me, whispering my name, remembering the greatest champion of the Hunger Games that ever lived. I would not only be a victor; I would be an absolute legend. People would remark at how well-trained I was, how talented I was at fighting. Children would look up to me, and imitate me when playing the games in childhood. Maybe they would even write books about me. When people thought of the Hunger Games, they would picture my face.

Of course, I had a few more things I had to iron out before then. First, I needed to get used to the weapons at the Capitol training center. They might be a little different than the one's I practiced with at home. I also had to figure out what happened to me at the reaping. I almost didn't become the volunteer. I'm sure it's just a shock thing that I needed to figure out, and a mentor could probably help me.

"Your highness, your heel is broken," I hear Prize mutter beside me.

I glare at him. The heel must have broken when I kicked Shine in the face. No matter, I had plenty of other pairs of shoes at home, and after I won, I would be able to afford a different pair of heels for the rest of my life. After all, I had gotten the spot in heels in a dress, while he had needed to wear training gear. Now who had the most talent? Shouldn't he be respecting me anyway? We're both careers, and we'll be working together in the games anyway.

"You better drop the attitude in training," I say back, "The other careers wouldn't like us to be bickering the entire time."

He snorts, "Yeah, right. Like you'll be working with us."

I'm taken aback by the comment. Of course I would be working with them, after all, didn't the careers work together most of the time? Last year was different, the girl from district four did not appear to be on the same level as the other careers, and she would have dragged them down. But me, I was just as good as them. No, that's not true. I was better than them. What the hell was Prize's problem? Was he intimidated by me, was that it? Was he afraid that I would win over him? Well, he should be, because it would be me taking home the prize. If he was going to continue acting like this, it would be him that would be left out of the career group. I'm sure the other tributes would come to their senses. I didn't know a lot about Prize, since i had been out of the training group for so long, but I'm sure he wasn't very well liked.

"I'd watch what you say," I glance at him. He's not looking at me; he's looking straight ahead. He's seemed to put me entirely out of his mind altogether. Intimidated. That's what it was. He must have known a bit about me, and he was scared.

The Peacekeepers lead us into rooms across the hall from each other. My room is ordained with red and gold stylings, and some of the prints on the walls look Chinese. I sit on a red velvet couch, but then stand up again, not wanting to ruin everything. I barely have a moment to myself before my family rushes in.

My sister looks how I would expect. Her eyes are bright and she looks at me in awe. She rushes forward and pushes me into a hug. My brother sulks in a corner, trying to look disinterested, but a see a hint of concern on his face. I wonder why that is. However, nothing could prepare me for my parents.

They look at me in absolute horror.

"Mom, Dad..." I say, pulling Starlight off of me. "What's going on?"

My mother bursts into tears and wraps her arms around me, while my Dad looks down at the ground. I can see his knees shaking.

"You can tell them," she says, choking between sobs, "Tell them you take it back. You don't want to volunteer anymore, you have to-"

"She can't," my brother spits out. I can hear the bitterness in his voice, "It's against the rules. She can't take it back now. It's too late."

My father leans against the wall and sits down.

What the hell was going on?

"You're freaking me out," I said, pushing my Mom away from me so that I can look at her. "Is this some last minute apprehension? Because you guys, I can do it, you know I can. That's what you've always told me. I'll be fine."

"We didn't think you'd actually be able to...Be able to..." My mom breaks down crying again. My sister, off to the side, looks confused.

"What?" I said.

"They didn't think you'd actually be good enough to get the volunteer spot," My brother fills in the blanks. He seems like he's trying to hold back tears himself. "They thought someone would beat you."

"Why would you think that?" I ask, confused, "You always said I was the best out of everyone, that's what you told me-"

"It's a lie! Did you see it? Oh my god, they've been lying for years-"

"Sunlight, stop it!" My father yells.

"No, I will not stop," my brother sneers at my father, "I should have said this a long ass time ago."

"I don't get what you're saying," I said, "I'm a master of weapons, I'm a trained athlete, I'm better than anyone else in the training center, you told me so."

"All lies! How could you not see Moon? Were you just so blinded by this need to be in the games you didn't see what was right in front of you?"

"You're wrong," I crinkle my nose, "I've been training for years. I have excellent aim in throwing knives and spears. I can lift double my body weight-"

"That's not even possible!" He screams, "Dad lied to you about the weight-"

"And I can run a four minute mile-"

"Seven minutes," my brother corrects.

I pause, "What, no, four minutes."

"Did you ever try counting yourself, or keeping your own time?" My brother seems mostly annoyed at this point.

"What are you talking about?" I throw my hands up in the air, "Dad always told me-"

"Dad always lied about you abut your time so you would you think did better than you actually did."

"That's impossible." I look at my father, and he looks away from me.

A dark pit in my stomach grows and consumes me.

It's true.

So, he lied about the running to make me feel better. That may explain why I wasn't as fast as the other girls at the reaping. But there were so many other things...

I thought about how when I would practice with arrows and spears that I never actually saw them hit my targets; they were too far away. But my parents always told me that I hit them spot on. I always beat my Dad in fights, but there were times when I felt it was too easy. I just thought it meant that I was so much better than him that it was easy. Sometimes my miles did feel long, and that I hadn't done as many push ups or lifted as much weight as my Dad said I did...

"We just didn't want to break your heart," my Mom whimpers, "We thought you wouldn't be able to be the volunteer."

"But training," I remember being better than everyone back in training.

"The kids would always let you win and make fun of you," my Dad explained, his face in his hands. "That's why we took you out. But you wanted to keep training so badly, we built the training center in the basement for you. We never-We never meant for it to go this far. It just happened."

The world spins, and as reality settles on me, I collapse.

I can barely remember my family being taken from me. I had just fainted, and was still out of it. I remember my mother's tears, my sister's confusion, my brother's pity, and my father just repeating "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

I fall asleep again, and when I wake up, I'm already on the train. It's night; we won't reach the Capitol until sometime tomorrow afternoon, I think.

The room is small with wood paneling, and there's a large window next to my bed. I peer out and I see the countryside whip past me. I can barely feel the movement.

They didn't bother changing me out of my clothes. I'm still wearing my reaping dress, stained with blood and dirt, and the heels, one heel broken.

The reapings are on TV. Right now it's District 7. The broadcast cuts out for a second. I wonder why that is. I see a girl with brown hair and work boots reaped.

I wonder if she has better chances than I do.

I shudder. I feel as though if I think about the events of today I may faint again. I'm a bit hungry, but I don't want to go exploring the train. Knowing what I know now, I would just be embarrassed. They knew I was inadequate, and I just couldn't see it.

Instead I decide to take a shower, rubbing the sweat and dirt and blood off of me. I toss the dress and the heels in the trash; I never want to see them again. I spend far too much time in the shower, where the tears come. I can't help it. My life has been crushed in mere minutes; entire years of my life have been nothing but lies. I had been fooling myself, and everyone could see it, even my own brother. Everyone must think I'm an idiot. I think I'm an idiot.

After I'm clean, I opt to put on a gray dull nightgown that I found in the closet. It fits me, though I don't know how they would know. When I get back into bed, I see that my reaping is on.

Why didn't I see it before?

I'm behind most people, God, I look so weak. I can't even push off anyone. Nobody is even trying to knock me down. I grab the remote and turn off the screen.

I am going to die in the Hunger Games.

Coda

Brin Pastele once nearly killed Rictor in training, I remembered now. They were practicing some hand to hand combat, and Rictor made a comment about how she needed to fix her stance to allow her to have more balance on her feet.

Less than two seconds later, she had him in a headlock, and it took twelve people to pull her off of him. She almost got banned from training, until the mayor realized she would be a great competitor anyway. A guaranteed win in the Hunger Games was worth to the risk to their lives.

That was years ago. She was twelve. I had been on the other side of the room, watching the fight from afar.

So now, even as I stand miles away from the games, standing next to Brin made me feel as if I were in danger. She, like myself, had waited until the last possible year to try for the games, making sure their strength was at peak condition. If there was anyone that had been more of a machine than I was, it was her.

She said nothing as Peacekeepers walked us down the hall. I wondered who her parents were. My father was the brother of a victor, and my mother was a Peacekeeper; she always valued power and the government. I knew nothing of her at all, only of what she could destroy. Her eyes were focused completely ahead of her, walking as if she were the only one in the hallway. As if she weren't followed by government officials and a person who, in two weeks, would be pitted against her in a game to survive.

I took a deep breath, and she flinched, as if my bodily functions were disrupting to her. I am sure that we would probably end up in an alliance together, as the strongest usually did, but she didn't seem to be interested in building bridges anytime soon. Speaking of breathing, was she even breathing? I didn't see the rise and fall of her chest, was she holding her breath? I looked back at the peacekeepers, and I realized that I couldn't see their chests rising and falling either. Could you see anyone breath while they were walking? I had never thought of it before. I tried to think of other people walking, and couldn't put a picture together in my head. Of course, people breathed while they walked, and I could remember people heavily breathing after running, but in any other circumstance, I couldn't put a picture together in his head. I looked down at himself. Could I see myself breathing? Of course I was breathing; I felt it, I controlled it. But when I was walking, my body was already moving, and the motion of breathing got lost. If I breathed really heavily, I could see it. I turned over at Brin again, and I could saw a slight movement of her chest.

Why was I thinking about this?

Nervous thoughts were filling my head.

I didn't even realize that the peacekeepers had taken them to their rooms. Mine was on the left, and Brin's on the right.

"Wait inside here for your families. You will have five minutes with them," said one of the Peacekeepers.

I nodded and walked into the room. There were three different chairs covered with a plush red fabric that was held together by dark brown wood and included stitched golden pattern. There were no windows, and I wondered why. Was it to keep us in? In the middle of the table on top of a gold rug was a wooden table with refreshments. A pitcher of water filled with ice, cheese and crackers, and some olives. Immediately, I started gorging myself. I didn't remember being hungry, but right now all I could think about was eating. I stuffed crackers and cheese down my throat, not bothering to put them together, and washed it down with a large glass of water. I didn't bother with the olives; I didn't like them that much anyway. Green olives always put a bitter taste in my mouth.

The door burst open with the power of wind in a hurricane.

I expected my father - but no, it was my uncle. His beard was longer than usual, and although his eyes were usually a caramel brown, now they looked black. Today, he had been wearing his best for the ceremony, but part of his shirt was untucked.

I couldn't react, or even swallow the cracker and cheese stuck in my throat, before my uncle has his arms around me, squeezing my shoulders, nearly breaking my bones.

"I should have said something," my uncle's eyes bore into me.

"Uncle Drake," I managed to mumbled out through my dry throat, "Where's Dad?"

"He's on his way, but I needed to see you first." He finally lets go of me and starts pacing around the room. His face was white, but his hands were red, and he kept chewing on the nail on his thumb, as if he were trying to break it off. "I was just hoping that we would make it through, that you wouldn't make it, every year when you decided not to try, I just kept keeping my mouth shut, knowing that I would have another year, and now, at your last chance you made it-"

"Of course I was going to make it," I managed to stammer out, not knowing what he was trying to get out, "Rictor told everyone else not to try."

Drake looked at him and his eyes grew wide, "I didn't know that. Your father didn't know that. Of course he didn't tell me that, he doesn't bother to tell me anything!"

"What's going on!" Shock has turned into anger. I'm going off to a game where there's a chance I will die, and this is not the departure that I had been hoping for.

"Your father knows nothing of the games, nothing, he thinks he knows because he watched just like everyone else, but he doesn't know anything at all. Every single victor of those games comes out with a smile on our face, but only we know what it's like to live in it, only we know! They will have my head on a plate if I ever talked about how I really felt, and I wish I had broken that for you, Coda. They always take the kids in to play, the kids of the victors, that's why I never had any. And now...I thought you could avoid it, with the volunteering, but your father...He wanted my legacy!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"I'm sorry," my uncle falls into a chair, "I should have-"

My father walks into the room next, examining the situation. "What's going on, I thought I heard shouting?"

Immediately, my uncles back straightens, and every sign of distress melts off his face. "It must be from the other room, Brin Pastele's parents are very intense, I've toured the prison several times. Coda and I are just talking."

I don't know what to do, or what to say. All I can do is nod.

My father smiles and takes a few olives off the plate. "Good. Coda, I just need you to know how proud I am of you, how unbelievably proud both of us are of you, we are sure you will do great."

Behind him, my uncle's smile well into a helpless frown, but my father couldn't see.

"Ever since you were born, I knew this was the right path for you, your mother and I, we just knew. We are a family of champions, first your uncle, and now you. When you come home..."

His father kept talking, but Coda couldn't pay attention. His mind kept going back to his uncle's words.

Had his father been jealous of his uncle? Impossible, his father had always spoken so highly of Uncle Drake. Always bragged about him, always invited him over for dinners...He made sure everyone knew that Drake was his brother. And he always made sure to tell everyone that Coda, his son, was the best at training, would surely win the Hunger Games as well some day.

I couldn't remember when he first wanted to win the Hunger Games. I just always knew that I would, like it was part of him before he was even born.

Maybe it even was.

Two people now, Anna and my uncle, two people I thought I had full support from, now revealing that they didn't want this for me at all. I remembered the conversation I had overheard between my father and my uncle, how my uncle had called him a machine. Why had his father wanted this for him so much? I didn't remember his mother pushing for this as much. From the little I did remember of his mother, none of it involved the Hunger Games, most of it involved playing in the grass. In my strongest memory of her, she was pushing him on a swing.

Nothing about training. Nothing about the Games. After my mother died, I hadn't been allowed to play as much. Father always made sure to have my priorities in order.

My father leaned over and hugged me, and I had to remind himself to hug him back. I placed his hands lightly on my father's back, soft fingers trying to carefully keep my broken world together. Over my father's shoulder, I spotted his uncle, who was looking down, his face scrunched as if he were trying to hold back tears. A few minutes ago, things had been so simple.

I could smell his father's breath on his face. He smelled like the green olives on the table.

A Peacekeeper walked in and told my family it was time to leave. From the other side of the hall, I heard a shriek. Perhaps Brin's parents really were intense and his uncle's excuse wasn't as flimsy as he thought.

My father left the room first, with one more hug for his son. My uncle lingered for a moment, and whispered, "None of us are allowed to say what it's really like."

My uncle rushed out of the room then, and I swore that he could hear him whisper, "I'm sorry," for one last time as he ran.

While Brin and I were walking back to the train, I noticed that half of Brin's face was bright red, as if she had been hit. She didn't show any sign of distress, no tears, only the stoic look forward, just as she had been before. She was almost like a statue, only walking and moving. Clearly, something had happened to her, but she didn't act like it, as if her mind were completely blank, and her only operation was to move from point A to point B.

Turns out, their escort in the gold suit was in fact named Goldy. He had removed some of his makeup, and when they met him on the train, he seemed embarrassed and tried to hide his face.

"My goodness," he said, "I wasn't quite ready, I thought I had a few more minutes, excuse me."

When Goldy came back from replenishing his makeup, Draco and Lutra, the mentors, had put on the other reapings on the TV. They said that knowing our competition was one of the most integral parts of winning. It was never too early to get a leg up on the competition. I knew their advice was true, but I chose to ignore it. As the reaping and faces went by, I barely paid attention to any of them, except for a disturbance during one district, and I don't even remember which one it was. Brin listened intently, and even started to jot down notes on a notebook she found somewhere. I couldn't seem to care less.

Finally, the last district came, District 12, the district that killed my mother. The two candidates, stood there, blankly staring at the screen. I didn't know if I really was meant for the Hunger Games, but I knew that I would kill them.

Emerald

The room smells like walnuts. And strawberries. It's actually sort of a pleasant smell, but I can't concentrate on that right now. On a platter before me, there are some pretzels and some cheese. But no walnuts, and no strawberries.

I become suddenly aware of the peacekeeper standing right outside the closed door, of how I am a prisoner in here. He's here to make sure I don't escape. That's probably why the room doesn't have any windows either. I wonder if Pine has any windows in his room, if these rooms really were meant to hold tributes. Or prisoners.

I looked around at the decor; paintings of a war she didn't know about hung on the walls, framed by golden painted wood. The room was carpeted by a deep green. She imagined taking off her boots and slipping her toes through the soft, jade carpet.

Jade, her sister, how was she feeling right now? And the rest of her family, were they on the way to see her? She remembered Peri clinging to her, but what had been the reaction of the rest of her family when her name was called? Had their hearts dropped down to their feet, as hers had? What about father? What would Wolfgang think when I never, ever came home?

My family rushes into the room, Peridot first, as she crashes into me. She's been crying for a while now, and she hasn't stopped. Her tears stain my plain purple shirt and she hiccups in my arms. I've never seen her act like this in her life; me and her were the stoic ones, while Alex and Jade were the emotional ones.

As a matter of fact, Alex and Jade both stood there, stone faced, looking at me, looking at Peri hug me. They stood their for a moment, not saying anything, until Alex first leaned down to hug both of us, and then Jade joined, and it was the four of us, bound together for possibly the last time.

It wasn't until everyone had let go that I noticed that someone was missing. "Where's Dad?" I asked.

"We couldn't..." Alex started, but seemed to get choked up on her answer.

"We couldn't find him," Jade answered. According to Dad, these two have been finishing each others sentences since they were born. Apparently that's how it is with twins. "The peacekeepers looked too, in the crowd, I think they went to the house too, but they couldn't find him anywhere, some people say he was at the ceremony, but that he just disappeared...We tried to-"

But she broke off, not knowing what to say anymore. As her words spoke, reality settled in on me. Dad couldn't handle coming here, knowing that I was being sent off to a certain death. He wouldn't be able to see me. But if it was the last time, shouldn't he want to see me. I just wanted to see him, we never planned for goodbyes in the morning. We never thought there would be a need.

After every reaping day, his mood drastically improved after we never got picked. But this year, he would likely spiral downwards, and I wasn't going to be there to help pick up the pieces for the family. Every other time, we had barely made it, trying to help our family stick together through whatever Dad was going through at the time. This time though, I didn't think we could make it. I didn't think they could make it.

"It's fine," I lied, "I understand. Please find him after though...Please. And don't be too mad at him. Promise, Alex?"

Alex's mouth was formed into a tight line, but she nodded. Dad's spells frustrated her the most, probably because she couldn't understand them.

I turned to Jade next. "I never want you to stop going to school Jade, no matter what happens. Don't give up on anything, and make sure Dad is getting to work, okay? But don't feel like you need to stop going to school to pick up extra slack, okay? The trees have always fallen, no matter what we've been through."

Jade also nods but she turns her head away. My older sister's usually didn't like to be bossed around by me, but today, there was no opposition.

I looked down at Peri, who was sitting in my lap, tears still streaming from her face. She had clutched part of my shirt with her fist, and she was still whimpering. I started to rub her back.

"And all you need to do," I said to her, "Is listen to Alex and Jade. Go to school. And every once in a while, make dad a cup of his famous hot chocolate. You know how much he loves it. And make sure Wolfgang is fed and walked, and tell him how much I love him every day, okay?"

She didn't say anything, or move at all, she just stayed there, curled up in my arms.

"We'll be sure," said Jade, who had finally turned back. "Everything will be alright, Emmy, I promise. We'll be okay."

Nobody had called me Emmy since I was ten. I nodded, and tried to stop the tears from flowing from my own eyes. My sister's needed strength to walk away with; they didn't need to worry about me more than they already did.

Jade finally pulled Peri off me. She resisted for a moment, and then accepted it. Everyone hugged me, getting in those last moments of closeness for as long as we could. I couldn't shake the feeling that these goodbye's weren't just temporary for the Hunger Games. We were getting ready to say goodbye to each other forever.

A peacekeeper came in and told my sisters it was time for them to leave. Peri started violently sobbing again, but Alex held her close. As my sisters exited the room, I had the feeling I would never see them again.

We walked to the train through a back path so that nobody could see us leaving. Although we were protected by peacekeepers, they didn't need the trouble of anyone trying to be a hero and save us, or at the very least, try to make a political statement. Anyway, at this point, all the damage was done. The only way to save us would be to kill us. The Capitol wasn't going to reap another victor for any reason. They've never had to re-reap before, and it would just be embarrassing.

Despite their best efforts to keep us hidden, I start to hear a voice calling out.

"Emerald! Emerald! Wait!"

Who the hell was that? Didn't they know that it was illegal to talk to me now, being from my district? Visiting time had passed, whoever it was was risking being killed-

Dad.

I could see him running through the trees, getting closer to us. Oh no. This was not going to end well.

The peacekeepers had us stop, and they guarded around us, I could barely see my dad in between them. They held their guns up, ready to attack.

"Please," I said, "It's just my father, please-"

"Visiting time is over," said the peacekeeper in front of me. "You are property of the Capitol now."

"Please," I said, "He didn't get to see me during visiting, I'm sure he just wants to talk." I didn't realize that I had started crying.

Pine stiffened next to me. He was clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

My Dad got closer, but the peacekeepers didn't move. "Sir," one of them began, a woman, "Please move along. Visiting time is over. If you break the law, there will be swift consequences."

My Dad got closer anyway, "I just wanted to say goodbye," he panted, "Emerald, please, I'm sorry I couldn't make it, I just wanted to-"

"Sir, step away."

My father finally stopped. "I just wanted to give this to her."

He held out something to one of the peacekeepers, and they took it.

"What is that?" I asked.

"We need to test it for now. Sir, it is time for you to leave," the peacekeeper said.

My father nodded. Through the peacekeepers, he looked me in the eye once. "I'm sorry Emmy," he said, "I love you."

Two peacekeepers broke off from us then, taking my Dad away. I hated myself for so easily believing that my Dad would just never want to see me again with the knowledge I would die. Of course he would want to see me, even if it was for just one last time. What had he wanted to give to me. The peacekeeper still held it clenched in her hand, but I couldn't see what it was. Maybe they thought it was a weapon of some sort, which is why they wanted to test it. I hoped, I just sincerely hoped, they would give it to me.

I had only ever seen the train from a distance; it just reminded me what I could never achieve. The only people who were allowed to travel from district to district were Capitol residents and people whose job required it. Being lumberjacks, we never had to ride on the train anywhere. It just reminded me that I would stay here forever, unable to do anything about it.

There was a crowd today, but the peacekeepers kept them far away from us, about 1,000 feet away I saw a group of people, wishing us a safe passage. Or perhaps just trying to catch the last real-life glimpse of us alive.

Our escort was ahead of us, and she waved to the crowd as she stepped onto the platform. She couldn't really think that this crowd was all for her, did she? Were Capitol people really that lost inside their own minds that they thought people in the districts worshiped the ground that the feet laid upon, that crowds would really come and cheer for her, a mere escort? The people of the districts in fact even hated the escorts; they were a symbol of the games, a symbol of the death of their children. This escort in particular seemed to be oblivious as she stepped onto the train.

The mentors go next. They're both older and won the games before I was even born. I should know their names, the victors from your district should be a sign of honor, but I don't know their names. I've never even bothered to look at them. Now, as I watch them get onto the train before me, I only see the back of their heads. They both have light skin and brown hair, which isn't exactly out of the ordinary for this district.

We get onto the platform next, and I take one last look surveying our district. Green trees poke at the sky, miles and miles of land that are our forests, woods that I know by heart, woods that I was expecting to live the rest of my life out in. These dreams were simple, but with no way to leave the district, they were the most pleasant view of the future I had. Now, it was time to accept the end.

I can't see my home from here, nuzzled into the middle of the forest, hidden by trees, but I know it's there. I wonder where my family is now, if my father has caught up with my sisters. Did they go home, or did they come to the crowd to see me off? Maybe they're all separated, alright feeling the crushing weight of my disappearance. I can imagine my father, walking through the woods for hours with no end in sight as he has done many times before. I wonder if my sister's are looking for him, I wonder if they've gotten home okay. I hope they all know it's okay to cry.

I turn my back on my district for the last time.