Chapter 1

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Everything that evil holds dear will always crash down around them in the end, for evil has never, and will never win. Even when the good hearts stop beating and the sky goes grey, light and life will eventually return. This event holds the evidence of just that, only what is considered evil doesn't seem right. Why am I to fall when all I did was watch?

Seventy six would be a number remembered forever in history. The final hunger games. The last of the barbarianism that has annually brought grief and entertainment to those of Panem. It's always been entertainment for me as I have been safe living in the capitol. Due to a series of current events involving my favorite tribute now known as the Mocking Jay, my people will not be safe. We are now to be thrown into the fire for symbolic closure and ultimately revenge.

We are the evil that took their children for seventy five years and now what we hold dear will be taken. We are the evil. We are the evil. Twenty four of us will be chosen today. Thousands will be pardoned, but twenty four will stand in front of the cameras only to fall in front of them and never get up again.

My mother had studied history at the academy. She knew a great deal of the times before the games first began. She knew of many times when things were better, and knew of many times when things were worse. She told my brother and I many stories of things we will never learn in school. My father knew a great deal about literature, he read us stories that many had not heard in hundreds of years. Stories of great adventure and great tragedy. I tried to remember these things as I stood. Tried to think of good things that once existed, and things much worse than this. I looked at my brother as he stood with the other seventeen year old boys. I wondered what he was thinking about.

Cedric was my twin brother. He too knew a great many things, and it was the hunger games that he had become an expert on. We owned all seventy five games and he watched them religiously. We had gone on vacation to some of the old arenas and he sometimes knew more than the tour guides. He could tell you how everyone died, the strategies people had used, if he was chosen he would know every trick. I on the other hand hated to watch them. I found them entertaining indeed, but the gore was too much for me to handle. If I was to be chosen I would be the first to die, but not before I'd puke at the sight of my own blood.

Effie Trinket, the woman who had been the escort for district twelve, had been chosen to be ours. She stood on that stage, ready to draw the names of twelve unlucky girls and twelve unlucky boys. I wondered how she felt, was it an honor or not? She as sending her own into the arena, was that painful for her? Maybe she just felt proud to be the one chosen for the last hunger games. In the end I didn't care because I had already developed an opinion on her. I didn't like her. She stood up there with her stupid smile that, genuine or not, made me sick.

It was usually her job to open up the reaping ceremony with the history of the games, explaining why they were done and how it was to ensure that there would never be another rebellion against the capitol. No such things was told. It was almost as if tabooed now. Effie was brief with her opening, we all knew why we were here.

"Well," she finally said, "Ladies first!" She had said this same thing every year.

No one was breathing as she went to draw the first tributes name, I was sure of that.

"Dradle Cheivner!"

I didn't know her. She was a pleasantly plump girl with long blue hair. Not a terribly good looking girl, the makeover was going to be good for her. She probably wasn't going to make it very long in the games. She was shaking as she stood on stage all alone, she looked around with a red face, clearly terrified and embarrassed. I might have felt bad for her if I wasn't standing with a few thousand other girls each dreading the sound of their name.

"And now for our first boy!"

Breaths were once again held, what unfortunate soul would be called?

"Phoenix Lahter!"

This boy I did know. Slightly. He was a grade younger than me. He was good looking enough, but had scrawny arms and legs. He'd make it a few days at least. He stood tall next to Dradle, but sweat glistened on his brow.

More names were called. Each kid showing terror in their own way. None really seemed to have a chance at winning. I looked at my brother again, he looked bored. I wished I could be that calm. My brother had always been laid back though. He was my best friend and knew me best.

"Boy number five!" Effie Trinket announced. I tried to be bored too. Why pay attention? There were thousands of names and I was just one of them. Five girls had been called, only seven more would be chosen. Each time I wasn't called made it more likely that I wouldn't. I looked down at my nails. I had gotten them done only a few days ago with my mother. They had intricate designs on them and shined nicely.

"Cedric Bellflower!"

I froze. My nails were no longer of interest. I had been so worried about my own name that his being called hadn't even really been considered. Nothing bad ever happened to him, he was graced with good luck since the day he was born! My eyes grew wide with shock and fear. I looked at my brother and met his eyes. He nodded at me assuring me it was going to be ok.

He walked up onto the stage casually, as if nothing wrong had happened. He looked good though. Strong and handsome, he even smiled when he saw he was on the big screen. I had some comfort in the fact that he knew the hunger games better than anyone, but could he really win? He was physically fit and clever, but sometimes the weakest tributes were the ones that won. I met his eyes again and nodded at him, swallowing my tears. If he was going to be brave so was I.

"Almost half way!" Effie said cheerfully. I wanted someone to shoot her, "Girl number six is Topaz Krones!"

I knew her too. She was very pretty and I always envied her curly hair that bounced when she walked. The bounce seemed less perky though when she walked up onto the stage. Tears were streaming down her face, she was the first to cry. She stood next to my brother and he took her hand. He squeezed it with reassurance.

"Boy number six is Tobias Marshel!"

He lived down the street from me. He was a quiet boy, kept to himself mostly. He was a good kid though, very polite when he did talk. I couldn't imagine anyone killing him. I hoped he died from falling rocks or a fatal bug bite. I heard a small cry from the crowed of adults. It was probably his poor mother. I wondered how our parents were doing.

My mother was the type to have a strong opinion on everything. My father on the other hand never had an opinion. They were such opposites. I wish I knew where they were so I could see their faces. I could imagine what they looked like though. Mother's would be rather put out, she would be ready to debate my brother out of the games. My father would be somber, probably looking down with his hands folded behind his back, he would have nothing to say at all.

I looked at my brother for about the millionth time. He was still looking confident and chilled out. The now weeping Topaz still held his hand. I wondered what was going through his mind. Probably deciding how he would take out each of them depending on what the atmosphere would be in the arena.

More names were called, more souls lost. More cries from the crowed, "Girl number ten!" Effie said putting her hand back in the pile of female names. Why was this process taking ages? How long could it take to read twenty four names? Why was my brother up there doing nothing?

"Bristol Bellflower!"

What? No. There were thousands of names in there. No she read the wrong name. There must be a different girl with that name. It was possible right? My eyes pleaded with Effie, did she see me? Couldn't she redraw? Didn't she know that my parents now were about to lose either one or both of their children? Didn't she know this was a mistake? It wasn't my name she called, it wasn't, it wasn't!

I looked at my brother. His face was no longer calm. With such a change in expression I knew my ears were not mistaken. Cedric stop looking at me, the longer you look the more the realization of me being chosen sinks in. I look at the big screen and it shows me standing in the crowed of girls. How did they know I was me?

"Bristol Bellflower?" Effie called again. I must have been standing there like a statue for a little too long. Two men grabbed my arms and helped me to the stage. I was embarrassed, or was I? I'm not sure how I felt, just faint, weak kneed, helpless. My brother was now being shown on the screen. I imagined that an announcer was telling the viewers at home that we were siblings and how interesting it would be to watch, and how heart breaking it would be that we would be trying to kill each other. Trying to kill each other. I would be trying to kill Cedric and he me.

The rest of the names seemed to be read quickly, I'm not even sure if I heard them or not, "There you have it! Your twenty four tributes!" Effie announced. The audience cheered. Why were they cheering? Did they still just think of this as another game they found so entertaining like all those other years? Did they not realize that it was now their own children going into the arena?

Maybe we were the evil after all, no, just them. We twenty four were not.

Soon enough my brother was by my side, his arm around me, "Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori," he said to me. A phrase from a poem our father had taught us. It was Latin.

I smiled at him weakly, "it is sweet and right to die for your country."