I wake from a dreary half-sleep to the sound of birds chirping outside. Pale dawn light washes over my barren bedroom, just as impersonal as always. I lie, motionless, in a pool of my own nightmare induced sweat, clinging to some unrealistic hope that I might still awaken from the dream.

Days, weeks have passed since the Quell was revealed and the very foundation of our world was seemingly shattered. Fights have been breaking out, Peacekeepers are shooting people in the streets who are suspected of being involved with the uprising in the District 4. There are already so many dead, and yet, neither side will stop until their enemies have been obliterated. What's the use? If there's no one left to see the fruits of their labor, then what are they fighting for? There has to be a better way.

Forcing the disturbing thoughts from the forefront of my mind, I pick my sore body off of the bed, untangling my limbs from the sheets. Retreating into my bathroom, I'm quick to position myself under the steaming water pouring out of the shower.

When I'm done, running my fingers through my still-damp hair, I walk over to my closet. The Reaping is today, and I am expected to look my best for the cameras. If I didn't have anyone I care about, I might wear something gruesome as my own form of entertainment. Sadly, Snow will kill my loved ones if I so much as smile the wrong way. I guess that no one's fault but my own.

Pulling on the clothing I've selected, I lock all of my emotions deep inside of me where no one will ever find them. I've chosen a pair of black, ripped, skinny jeans and a long sleeve, halter crop top with leather straps. I plaster my hair in a high, slicked ponytail, spraying it so not one strand moves from its designated spot. Masking my face in dark makeup, I carefully apply bright red lipstick to my lips. Finally, I slip on a pair of boots and secure my precious locket around my neck.

Deadly and sexy. That's all the Capitol will ever view me as. None of us are people in their cruel, uninspired eyes, just dolls for them to dress up and throw away when they get bored. If any of us ever show the damage that lies beneath the patched up cracks covering the porcelain surface of our facades... well, it's not pretty.

Tearing my gaze away from the mirror, its cracks visible instead of hidden like mine, I leave my room for what might be the last time.

Entering the kitchen, I pause in the doorway. Ryder is hunched over the table, his face resting in his cupped hands. He looks bedraggled, like he got about as much sleep as I did last night.

"Hey," I say softly, walking over to him.

Ryder sluggishly lifts his head to look at me with mournful eyes. "I can't lose you, not again." His choked words surprise me. My brother's never been one for showing vulnerability. Weakness can get you killed, after all.

"I might not be reaped," I reply, uncertainty lacing my words and effectively removing any comfort that might have otherwise found a home in them. Sitting next to Ryder, I reach under his shirt to where I know his locket will be. "And even if I do return to that arena, even if I die, you'll never lose me."

He looks down at his locket resting in my hand before meeting my eyes. "Love you, Lil."

"Love you, too." I close my eyes, briefly resting my forehead against Ryder's. "Come on, we should go."

The journey to the Justice Building is far too quick and yet excruciatingly long at the same time. The hot summer sun beats down on our ghostly pale skin.

When we arrive, I'm forced to separate from my twin, leaving him to join the other female victors of District 4. I haven't stood in this all too familiar roped of area since I was reaped at fifteen years old. An uneasy acceptance starts to swirl in the pit of my stomach, reminding me of the calm before a storm.

A hand reaches out to clasp my with a firm grip. Glancing over to the victor beside me, I see Marie, my former mentor and long time supporter. Choosing to remain silent, I return the strength, squeezing her hand just as tightly.

Mayor Brookes begins his speech, reciting the catastrophes that led to the rise of Panem. Then, the Dark Days came. The districts rebelled, war ravaged the country, and so much was lost. The Capitol won and, as punishment for their crimes, obliterated District 13 and created the Hunger Games.

After he's finally done boring us to death, the mayor welcomes our escort, Lester Flax, on stage.

Lester has only been the escort for District 4 for a few years. Not long enough for me to have any idea how horrible he might be compared to some of the others I've had to deal with. His chosen attire is definitely some of the worst I've seen so far, though, and that's saying something.

Midnight blue hair and red contacts are scary on their own. A lime green suit with hot pink polka dots? Absolutely terrifying.

The demon of an escort clunks of to one of the bowls in his platform boots. Terror and dread for what's to come seeps into my bones, the anticipation killing me. Moving my gaze briefly away from Lester, déjà vu hits me and I'm thrown into a spiraling memory when I see a pair of ice-blue eyes meet mine.

I feel like I might puke. I barely recognize any of the girls surrounding me, and the ones I do recognize, I wish I didn't.

"Out of my way, freak." A few older girls shove past me, almost knocking me over on their way to their designated area.

"Excuse you," I mumble, scowling.

"What was that?" One of the older girls says, whirling around to face me. "Little ghosts don't get an opinion."

"Come on, Siren." The first girl grabs her friend's arm. "She's not worth our time."

"You're right." Turning to give me one last dark look, she spits at me. "I'm planning on volunteering, but I think I'll make an exception if you get reaped, Ghost."

No matter how many times I deal with people like this who hate me for things I can't control, it hurts. The pain never goes away, even if I've convinced others that it does. Wiping my face of all emotion, I straighten my back and try to appear as normal as I can.

I must've lost track of time because the escort is moving towards the bowl containing female names. Across the sea of figures, my gaze accidentally meets another's. Beautiful blues eyes that, despite the mass of people to choose from, have decided to land on mine.

Tearing my eyes away from the boy, I force myself to pay attention to what's happening. As the escort reaches her delicate hand inside the glass bowl, she pulls out a slip of paper that will change my life forever.

"Annie Cresta!"

The sounds of Lester's voice saying the name of one of my friends snaps me back to reality. There's a moment of silence before Annie's screams can be heard throughout the town square.

Without pausing to think, I rip my hand from Marie's and, with a facade of calmness, step forward. "I volunteer."

"Lilith, please... no!" Annie sobs, begging me not to go, but it's too late, I've already sealed my fate.

"Wonderful, Wonderful!"Lester bounces with excitement as I join him on stage wearing a cold look of indifference. "Let's move on to our male tribute." Thrusting his hand into the bowl, he pulls out a deceptively innocent-looking piece of paper. "Finnick Odair!"

Well, isn't this just great? This is proof that the odds have never been in my favor. There goes whatever plan I thought I had.

Shaking hands, I recognize the conflicted look in my friend's eyes. It's the same conflict that is causing my stomach to tie itself into knots. As soon as we're done, the Peacekeepers start pushing towards the train with an urgency I don't remember from last time.

"Wait! What's going on?" Finnick asks frantically.

"We're supposed to have an hour." I attempt to stop in my tracks, but they keep shoving me forward. "What are you doing?"

"You're going straight to the train this year. President's orders." A Peacekeeper growls while pushing us to keep moving.

"At least let me walk on my own," I demand, ripping their hands off of me. "Morons."

Keeping my composer, if only barely, I walk with my head high and a defiant look in my eyes. I haven't made it this far to start looking weak now.

As soon as we board the train, my mask falls as I storm past everyone to the room I've been using for the past eleven years. Slamming the door behind me, I sink to the floor with my back pressed up against it. I let out a long sigh and bury my face in my hands. What have I gotten myself into? Hell. That's what this is.

I sit there for a long time, one of the few times when I let myself express my true emotions. When I'm not what anyone else expects or wants... when I'm just me, Lilith.

After a while, I pick myself up off of the floor, changing into more comfortable clothes before making my way to the dining car for dinner.

"I was just about to come looking for you," Lester says when I enter the room, his high pitched accent grating on my nerves.

Not bothering to look happy, or whatever response he's looking for, I plop down in the seat next to Finnick.

Marie sits across from me, obviously taking over as a mentor this year. I'm not complaining, that's for sure. Next to her, our other mentor, Anders Holland, doesn't look the part of a killer with his goofy grin, but he's a skilled strategist.

Looking around at the people surrounding me, I can't help but feel despair at the thought of this year's Games. I know there are victors that I will have no problem killing, but... how can I kill my friends?