Curiosity killed the cat, but I never thought it would kill me.

Lemon yellow. Bright and sleek, girlishly fashionable.

It was the one thing I brought with me, when I had to flee my home. My soft, lemon yellow coat. Made and shipped all the way from District 8. One of the last things it produced before it rioted. My last present from my dad.

I'll never see him now. My aunt and I- we didn't make it to him in time. Aunt. Home. Gone.

Newly fallen snow, disjointed limbs. The destruction that the Capitol had brought upon itself. The things I had seen but ignored, because my life was cosy, sheltered, privileged. While the television in the sitting room reeled off lists of shortages, I curled up on the carpet and played with my set of paints. Waited until the Quarter Quell was aired, impatiently begging to see a hanging. Childish hunger for violence, for excitement, for danger.

Until my cosy, privileged life was turned upside down and bombed to pieces. Safety. Home. Gone.

I had only minutes to myself once they announced that our block was to be evacuated. Of my pretty girly frocks, all bought specially from District 8, the only thing that caught my eye was my favourite coat. My lovely lemon coat. It was cold out, and I had seen the discomfort that goes when people leave their furs and soft shoes at home.

I had snatched the one material thing I cared enough to save. My last present. My lovely lemon coat. Lemon. Home. Gone.

"Keep moving, we'll find safety soon."

How different a street looks. This barely seemed like the avenues of my home. Snow. Blood. Danger.

"Don't attract attention; don't stare, keep moving."

But I was a kid glued to the TV. I had learned to watch, to take it in, to keep silent and watch.

Ostentatious furs. Bundles. Secretive huddling, whispering. And a face, a District face under layers of makeup. A face from the television, I face that I have known since I saw it in the Hunger Games.

It's Katniss Everdeen.

I could hand her over in matter of seconds, but I don't. I'm a Capitol girl, I'm not allowed to support the rebels, I have to do as my family wants me- but I don't scream for her, or shout for help. I'm just curious. What's Katniss Everdeen doing in the Capitol? Why didn't the President tell us?

I just stare at her, the only familiar thing here. Does she still have her Mockingjay pin? I almost want to ask.

Screams. Bullets. Gunfire.

Aunt. Gone.

I can feel her slump beside me, great holes spilling blood through her furs. She collapses beside me.

"Auntie! Aunt, wake up! Please, wake up! Please, Auntie, please wake up! Don't leave me- somebody help me!"

Everything, everyone around me is screaming. I am screaming. Why- what's happening? I haven't done anything! I just want to go home! I'm not fighting in any war, I'm just trying to be safe. Why are they hurting us? Why do they want to hurt us?

Why me?

I shake her. If she's asleep- she has to be, why else wouldn't she move? Surely, if I shake her hard enough, she'll come back to me.

Or she is. Gone.

"Auntie!Auntie!"

A rattle of gunfire. An awful pain rips through me, and I am forced onto my back, screaming with the pain of it. I look down at my chest.

Red. Lemon. White. I curl into a ball on the ground, toes curl, teeth grind.

Red blood. White snow. Yellow, dye.

Black, die.

Gone.