This is my first Hunger Games fan fiction. I apologise for my errors. It's swaying to Everthorne slightly in the beginning, but I assure you, it's CATONISS! It's boring at first, I know, but when I take over, it will be far from the usual Catoniss – Kato, if you must – stuff that you read. I still have to work out the kinks in it, but, for now…

*Clears throat* I'm nervous.

This isn't as romantic as you'd expect from something that's labelled in the romance genre. I just cannot stand when fanfic Katniss forgets the world around her the moment she falls for a guy. It's so OOC. That's not what book Katniss would do! Book Katniss would stay level-headed – sort of – and not make a fuss over a boy. She'd allow her mind to wander for a few seconds before zoning back to reality. She doesn't fall in love with a ruthless murderer in five seconds flat! Hell, it took AGES for her to fall for a sweet kid like Peeta and it'll take even longer for her to love a Career.

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE HUNGER GAMES.

They say that fire melts ice into water, but then water extinguishes the fire.

The Girl on Fire verses the bloody, brutal, ice-cold Cato.

That's why you're here now, right?

You want to know the truth behind permanently scarring stories that you've heard so much about. You're excited about the events that cause bloodshed and abuse to children. Just like the Capitol people.

But that's okay; I'll tell you the real-life events. You're a sick person to find this entertaining, but the world is sick a place…so who am I to judge?

I woke up early on that warm spring day. The sun was barely peeking out from behind the trees, indicating the start of a brand new day. The soft reddish light cast down upon my face, to my irritation, and caused me to wake.

I moved the filthy, rotten Buttercup on the cold floor and off of the bed. He never ceased to humour me with his failed attempts at proving his immense loathe for my blood. It was all well and understandable, I'll admit, as I've tried to kill him several times.

He didn't hiss when I placed him away from a precious Prim who lay asleep next to my once-beautiful mother.

That cat had been the cause of several unnecessary grievances on my part. More mouths for me to feed and more characters to worry about. He kept out the rats and sometimes I'd toss him entrails of my game, he had stopped hissing at me.

I changed into my hunting clothes, which consisted of a thin cotton top and pants, dingy leather boots and my father's worn jacket. I braided my hair and twisted it into a cap. I took my game bag and left my home at the break of dawn, but not before taking a slice of cheese that Prim had left for me.

As I made my way to the fence, I could feel the goose bumps on my limbs. The wind was furious. When I reached the boundary-fence of District 12, I gracefully slid under the blunt-barbed fence.

My heart filled with contempt as my mind filled itself with the thoughts of the woods. I would have done anything to leave my home and move into the log-cabin my father built. I'd never go hungry. I could've caught game and found a source of drinking water from the lake. The only person stopping me was my sweet, little Prim.

Who would feed her if I was gone? My mother certainly wasn't in the right mental state.

I shook the thought out of my head as I heard Gale's velvety footsteps approach. "Catnip!" He exclaimed. He reached his big hand out to me and held in front of me a small, delectable bread roll.

My eyes shimmered as I tried not to drool. "How…?"

"I traded it for two squirrels this morning." He said nonchalantly, breaking it into to two equal halves and tossing one piece in my general direction. "The baker was feeling…generous." I caught it with both hands, greedily tearing off a large chunk in between my teeth, before remembering that I still had Prim's goat cheese. I spread some on my bread and gave the leftover cheese to Gale, who seemed pleased enough.

We conversed about the beauty of the rising sun, debated over the matter of having children and laughed about the Hunger Games, mimicking Effie Trinket's shrill voice.

It was an enjoyable conversation until Gale mentioned the reaping. He had entered his name forty-two times and I had entered twenty-eight times that year. I wasn't concerned for myself, but for Prim, who could never cause harm to another living entity, much less pick up a knife.

I tried my best to protect her from all harm, but this is one thing that I couldn't shelter her from. The Hunger Games was the raw, violent, blood-lusting death match that guaranteed one sole person a life of ease and luxury. The Hunger Games that ended the lives of twenty-three children.

I was then reassured by the thought of Prim's name being entered only once. One in a few thousands was a rare feat. Still, it was a possibility that I couldn't handle.

Gale was unaware, of course. "Let's hunt; we don't have much time on our hands."

"Fine," I agree.

Over the next few hours we travelled through the promising woodlands and happened to poach several rabbits and even a duck. Gale and I picked a few strawberries and assorted fruits and herbs, before making our way to the Hob. We traded wit the butcher's wife, the baker and Greasy Sae. Even the mayor's daughter, Madge, paid us for a crate of freshly-picked strawberries.

Gale led me to the doorstep of my home and before leaving, mumbled, "Wear something pretty."

I was greeted with a sob as I entered my home. There lay Prim on the floor, crying. "What if I get picked?" She asked. My mother just shook her head.

"You won't get picked." I assured her. I bent down and cradled her in my arms. "Shh…your name's only in there once. They're never going to pick you, I promise on my life."

She threw her skinny arms around me. "Oh, Katniss…"

I hugged her reassuringly. "Come," I said with a sad smile. "It's getting let, we'd better dress up. After the reaping, we can have a feast!"

Her face lit up. "Really?"

"Of course we can. Gale and I have the right amount of game. We can all have a feast together." I smiled. "Let's get ready."

My mother filled the tub with lukewarm water for my bath. I dressed in my mother's old, soft blue dress as her fingers worked quickly, twisting my braid on top of my head and fixing it into a delicate hairstyle. I took a good look at my eyes, stone-hard, steel grey. I saw fear and anxiety. I twisted my face into a mask of indifference, a tedious look playing.

As we left the house, I tuck in Prim's shirt, which reminded me of a duck tail. I closed the door with a heavy heart, hoping to see it again soon. I walked the streets of District 12, silently reminiscing about the memories I've had in this pathetic excuse for a district. I ushered Prim to the twelve year old section, before making my way to the line of sixteen year old girls.

I silently made a prayer in my head as the mayor gave a speech on the history of Panem – the same speech as he does every year. Then, he read out the names of the two Victors from District 12; one of them was alive, Haymitch Abernathy, the town drunk.

My head began to spin as Effie Trinket trotted on the stage with the biggest smile I've ever seen. She was dressed in a ridiculous, glittering, ruffled spring-green suit with oddly shaped silver high-heels. Her hair was in a bright pink perm, and resting atop her head was a massive green bow.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to select the lucky boy and girl who will partake in the fabulous 74th Annual Hunger Games!" She chirped, clapping her hands together – which was when I got a view of her glittering gold nails. "As usual, ladies first!"

She strutted to the large, clear bowl, dug her hand around and quickly pulled out a small scrap of paper. I bit my lip; my name couldn't have been picked!

It wasn't.

The name that peeled off her slimy pink lips wasn't mine! I was overcome with relief, until I registered the name she read…

It was Primrose Everdeen.

Her face dropped into an unrecognisable look of fear and repulse. I heard a hoarse, frantic yell emit from the audience as Prim makes her way to the grinning Effie. My throat was sore and rough when I realised that I was the person letting out a psychotic scream.

"I volunteer!" I shrieked desperately, pleading to Effie, of all people… "I volunteer as tribute!" The next thing happened in a blur. Prim cried and begged for me to stay as Gale carried her to my mother. A blob of white – a Peacekeeper – grabbed my arm and hauled me onto the stage.

Effie Trinket trotted over to me and pushed me towards the microphone. "What's your name, darling?" She enquired.

I took a deep breath. "Katniss Everdeen." I mumbled into the microphone.

She grinned, baring her brilliant pinkish-white teeth. "I'll bet my buttons that that was your sister! Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we?"

I said nothing. I blinked several times, shying away the tears brimming in my eyes. I dared to look at Prim. Instead, I looked up at the sun defiantly.

"Let's give a hearty round of applause for the brave girl!" Effie squeaked out.

I will never forget what happened next.

No one clapped for me, but instead, every member of the audience kissed the three middle fingers of their left hands and held it up to me.

I resisted the urge to sob. I had to be strong; stoic even. I couldn't cry, not in the face of the enemy.

I nearly passed out on the strong stench of whisky in the air, as Haymitch Abernathy slung one shaky arm around my shoulders. "She's got spunk!" He declared, looking fixedly into the camera lens. "More than you!" He told them. "More than you!" With that, he fell limp off the stage, his mind temporarily clogged with all the alcohol consumption.

I barely heard the name of the male tribute, but watched as the blond-haired boy mounted the stage. I held back a gasp when I realised that it was none other than Peeta Mellark!

We were never close friends or anything, but I owed him everything and then some. I held his deep blue eyes in in mine. Effie spoke several praises to the Capitol and thanked everyone for joining her that day. She beamed at them all.

"Congratulations to this year's District 12 tributes: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!" She hissed on her S's. I remember thinking it rather annoying at the time. "Shake hands, you two." She murmured to us. Peeta grasped my small hand and gave it a quick shake. He smiled sadly at me. I didn't return his smile, just glared coldly at him.

I couldn't befriend my competitor. It would be weakness.

We were ushered off the stage – by four Peacekeepers – and into the Justice Building.

I'd only been there once before the reaping. I received a medal in honour of my father. That was when I'd first seen Gale, his father died in the explosion too. I remembered seeing his heavily-pregnant mother, looking directly at him with glossy eyes and two toddlers in both hands.

Peeta and I were escorted into two separate rooms. It was luxurious, with velvety seats, – I knew it was velvet because my mom had a dress with a collar made of that stuff – lush carpeting, exquisite crystal light fixtures – they're called chandeliers or something like that – intricate paintings in golden frames and the most delicate jewelled ornaments.

The windows were hidden behind the raw silken curtains, everything was dark and the decorations held a mysteriously illuminating glow.

I saw a flash of blonde and turned to see my mother and Prim crying. I pulled them both in for a hug.

"Mom," I said sternly. "You can't leave again. Prim needs you."

"I won't, I'm—"

"Promise me, mom." I said.

She nodded. "I promise."

"Prim, I don't want you to sign up for tesserae. You can make money off of Lady's dairy products and healing. Mom, if you show Gale the correct picture, he will collect all the right herbs for you. He'll also bring you game." I instructed.

"Katniss…" Prim piped up softly.

"Yes?"

"You can win." My eyes bulged out in surprise. "You're a hunter, you know how to survive. Promise you'll win?"

"I…" I started.

"Please, Katniss, promise me?" She looked at me with hopeful eyes and I couldn't break her heart.

I cleared my throat. "I promise you that I will try my best to win these Games and come home to you."

The door cracked open and a Peacekeeper took them away. I waited impatiently for my next visitor, who – to my surprise – was the baker, Peeta's father.

He gave me a packet filled with delicious-looking biscuits. I could see that he'd just finished up with his son as his face was red and puffy, showing that he made no attempt to hide his grief. He didn't say much, and walked out when his time was over.

My next visitor was Madge, the mayor's daughter. Her voice was quick and urgent. "They allow you to wear a token from your district." She said, fiddling with something in her pocket. "I want you to wear this…" She said, carefully dropping her pin in my hand. It was a solid gold circle and a mockingjay inside it.

She gave me a kiss on the cheek and hurried out the door, leaving me bewildered. Cookies, a pin, I was getting all kinds of gifts that day. My thoughts were broken as an intimidating male figure barged in.

Gale.

"Katniss," He boomed. "You can win. Do everything you've learnt. It's just like hunting."

"But they're people, not animals."

He sighed. "What's the difference, really?" I was horrified by his tone. He seemed to have noticed. "They're after your blood, too, Katniss. If you want to get home to Prim, you have to kill. Kill or be killed!"

I gulped. That was what I was afraid of. Who was I to end another's life? To kill someone's child? I was no one. Unfortunately, I was placed into a situation where such was mandatory in order for me to live.

"You have to find your bow and arrows. It's your special ability, your defence. Find them, hide in a tree and slyly kill the others off. You're a hunter, never forget that."

I nodded. "Yes, but—" I was cut off by a burning sensation in my stomach and a tingling feeling on my lips. Gale was kissing me.

I was stationary. Gale refused to stop. His hands travelled to my waist, despite my reaction, and he pulled me closer – if possible – to him. My eyes dropped and felt my arms sneak to his neck. I moved my lips against his and he smiled.

He pulled away breathlessly. "I've wanted to do that for so many years…" He mumbled, cupping my cheek. He leaned in again.

I then realised how foolish I was behaving. I was about to face my demise and all I could possibly do was kiss a boy I've never seen in a romantic way. How incredibly daft! But, at the time – even though I wasn't one for romance – it was the first, and probably, last kiss I'd ever have with a boy.

"Just remember, Katniss, I—" I'll never know what he was going to say, as at that moment, two peacekeepers had decided pluck him out of the room.

Within a matter of seconds, I was left alone in the strange room, attempting helplessly to orient myself in this whirlwind of life. I've said it before, but it was the only thing running through my mind: I can't cry. I bit my lip and glared into the light fixtures to keep the brimming tears from leaking.

It's never easy to be chosen, to be called. In the end, I had a very slight chance of survival. I then began to process Gale's words – before the semi-awkward kiss – and I realised that I shouldn't be counted out of the Games because I was from District 12! I was a surviver…a hunter. My instincts guided me and kept me safe…I was as a part of those Games as any other tribute.

I was pulled out of the rich, peculiar room and taken to the platforms, where I was supposed to give my district a final goodbye. I sucked in a scream that was threatening to burst out. It was hard not to cry, but it had to be done, I couldn't be weak.

Peeta, on the other hand, had a puffy, swollen face, a red nose and bloodshot eyes. At the time I had assumed that he was going for the 'weakling-tribute-who-turns-out-to-be-vicious-and- blood-thirsty' angle, but who would believe that? He was broad and had a stocky build. He could have cried out a river, yet he would still be a considerable threat.

We boarded the high-end Capitol train and it took off at an alarmingly quick pace. Effie Trinket escorted me to a large bedroom and told me to change into anything I want. When she left the magnificent room, I allowed the tears to spill from my eyes.

They came down in sheets, pouring down my cheeks and resting on the bodice of the worn dress. I sobbed until my eyes were dried and there weren't any tears left to shed.

I then washed my face clean, ridding myself from the swollen eyes and blocked nose. I stripped out of the dress and into soft cotton underwear, a sea-green shirt, black pants and soft black shoes.

Entering the main compartment, I held a foul stench in my nose caused by the sharp smell of beer in the air. It meant that Haymitch – our mentor – was intoxicated heavily. Effie was blathering on about manners to him in his oblivious form. It was rather humorous… even I had to admit.

Her fixed glare turned into a warm smile as she saw me enter the compartment. "Oh, Katharine, darling—"

I sneered. "My name's Katniss."

She looked at me in surprise with a frown, before quickly grinning – her lips were twitching. "Katniss, darling, we were awfully worried about you. Take a seat next to Peeta and enjoy dinner."

I was hurdled towards the table and practically fell into the soft, tan leather chair. The intricately carved wooden back was pressed forcefully to my back. Effie Trinket had an odd form of revenge.

There were many delectable staples in front of me and it took a long time to choose. I decided to take two legs of white meat lathered in a spicy marinade, four spoonfuls of salty mashed potatoes and a beefy, savoury stew with rice.

I scarfed down my food gratefully. If there was one good thing about the Capitol, it would definitely be the amazing sustenance. It was surprisingly comforting.

Peeta was the first to utter out what we were both thinking. "Haymitch," He started with a slight smile. "What should our strategies for the Games be?"

"Stay alive." He barked out with laughter.

Peeta's eyebrows knitted together into a look of pure fury as we gazed in each other's eyes knowingly. Within a matter of seconds he reacted to Haymitch's words before hadtily punching him across the jaw.

I couldn't hold in my surprise and gasped. Haymitch wasn't alert and dropped to the ground with a harsh laughter. He coughed and coughed and vomited on the carpet. He passed out soon after.

Peeta looked at him with remorse. The boy with the bread had tamed. I helped him to hoist up the foul-smelling man. He was surprisingly heavy for such a thin fellow. From what I've heard, he used to be broad. His excessive drinking habits must have stopped all growth and he's been too drunk to build back his once-grand physique.

I helped Peeta lay him on his bed. I took once glance at myself on the smooth crystal-like mirror and wretched. I was covered – head to toe – in Haymitch's bile. I would be the last person to be called high-maintenance, but even I found the stench utterly repulsive.

Peeta offered to bathe him and I fled silently and swiftly to my room, trailing to the bathroom. I cleansed myself of the mess and took a warm bath. I stripped down to my underwear and slid my lithe body under the silken duvet covers of the large, warm bed. It was so much nicer than the one I had back home. That one had broken springs and the mattress was torn.

I remember staying up that whole night, looking at the ceiling with a vacant expression. I tried to think about my family and Gale and what my being murdered in the Games would mean, but my mind was clogged by the peculiar desire to remain still and sound. My façade of bleakness had seemed to slip itself in my brain and wire itself there.

I thought nothing.

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