A/N: I had to edit this as I forgot to break it into paragraphs. Enjoy, make sure to review if you have any feedback.

I'm running past the forests. Screaming my head off as the oldest and biggest tribute is chasing me with a spear. "Can't run forever!" he yells. And he's right, as I trip over a log, he raises his arm to stab me. "Please. I don't want to die." I whisper.

It was just a dream. I turn around to see Katniss still asleep. She's very beautiful, but she thinks otherwise. She gets up early to hunt, especially early on reaping day so she can get back in time. I, however, get up a few hours later. I hope I don't get reaped. Not today. In fear of waking Katniss up, I slip off the bed to walk to my mother's. There's just enough light to see her. I look a lot like her, whereas Katniss looks' like our late father, who has the same grey eyes and dark hair as her. I creep into the sheets, and I guess I either woke my mother or she was never asleep, because she cradles me in her bony arms, our blonde hair tangling together.

I must've fallen asleep, because the next time I open my eyes, Katniss is gone. Her boots and jacket have also left our closet. She's with Gale Hawthorne for sure. They always go in the woods together. I hate the woods. I can't use a bow like Katniss can, and the thought of killing defenceless animals makes my heart sink. "Good thing she doesn't hunt cats." I say to my own little kitten, Buttercup. He's not exactly a kitten, but the way he mews reminds me of when he was. He was very ill when we found him. Good thing Mother and I know how to heal, or I wouldn't have company today. He rubs his whiskers against my legs, blinking very slowly. I quickly run outside to milk Lady. I made cheese out of her milk yesterday. I leave it under a bowl for Katniss. A gift on reaping day. School is cancelled today, so I play with Buttercup for a while.

At two o' clock, it'll be my first reaping. Katniss tells me not to worry as my name is only in once, but her name is in twenty times. The reaping is how we decide who will be this year's tributes for District 12, the smallest, poorest part of our country, Panem. Tributes will then be in the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games is an annual event where children aged 12-18 will be put in an arena to fight until one person is left. I turned twelve a couple months ago, so it's my first time. I'm forbidden to take tesserae, as my name would be put in the bowl an extra time. Katniss does it, and that's why her name is in twenty times instead of five. From watching in the back with my mother these past few years, an unusually happy lady with big curly hair picks out two names: a boy and a girl. District 12 has only one living victor. The alcoholic Haymitch Abernathy. He's one example of how the Games torture you. The Games aren't the only thing that the Capitol does to remind us of the previous, failed, rebellion. People can be whipped or even shot dead if they break the laws. Katniss and her friend are a great example, but no Peacekeeper realises that they must get that meat from somewhere. Everyone's too hungry, I guess. My father would also be one of them if he didn't die in that mine explosion. I remember when Katniss ran to my class that day. From that day on, my mother was never the same.

"Prim. Here's Katniss' old reaping clothes. We might have to use some pins for it to fit you though." my mother says with her gentle voice. She lays out a white blouse and a beige skirt. I put it on and I help my mother fix it with pins. Afterwards, she brushes through my hair and fashions it into two braids. "You look beautiful." she whispers. I look at our old clock. "Mother, where is Katniss? We have to get there by one and its already noon." We check the Hob, the market place in the Seam she goes to, but they tell us that they haven't seen her. Afterwards, my mother stays at home to prepare Katniss' outfit while I check the fence that separates my city from the dangerous forest. We barely get electricity, so its usually safe to crawl under the broken wires. I listen for a small hum to know if Katniss is trapped inside, but its silent. I hope she makes it back in time.

I walk home, hoping to see Katniss there, but my mother grabs my hand and leads me to the square. I find my friend, Dahlia, and we walk to the front. Dahlia is from the Merchant class, like my mother used to be. Her hair is strawberry blonde and her eyes are the colour of the sky. We don't chat or anything, just walk side by side, occasionally looking at the other to make sure that they didn't leave you behind. When we get to the table, they prick my finger and push it against a piece of paper. I wince at the pain, the sight of my blood on paper. Once Dahlia has gotten her finger pricked, she heads off to the thirteen-year old girls' section while I walk to the twelve-year olds. "Good luck." we whisper to each other.

I see the two glass balls that Katniss had once mentioned. One of them are for the boys, the other for the girls. Three chairs sit behind the table, one for the mayor of 12, one for District 12's escort, Effie Trinket, and the last for Haymitch Abernathy. He is from the Seam, with his dark locks and grey eyes. After waiting a while, neither Haymitch nor Katniss arrives. The Mayor is obviously impatient, so he finally stands up and gives us a long speech about the history of Panem. The rebellion called the Dark Days, then the new Panem that gives us the Hunger Games. The rules are so simple, yet so terrifying. Each district has one girl and one boy tribute. They'll be shown off for a while like it's a pageant show, but that doesn't last forever. They'll be thrown into an arena, a landscape that could range from anything; a hot, dry desert to a vast ocean with rarely any trees. From there, they must be fight to the death. Imagine a twelve-year-old fighting against an eighteen-year-old. I just hope its not me or my sister. I realise that I'm not paying attention when drunk and clumsy Haymitch staggers onto the stage. Everyone claps, which confuses Haymitch, so he goes over to give Effie a hug. "District 12, the joke of Panem." someone whispers.

The mayor introduces Effie Trinket, who walks up to the podium. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour." Her hair is slightly off, or should I say wig. It's unnaturally pink this year. "What an honour it is to be here, with all you delightful children." she gleems. "Now, let's begin the drawing." Effie Trinket smiles. "Ladies first!" she says happily. She walks over to one of the identical bowls. How does she tell them apart? My breath slows down as she dips her perfectly manicured hands into the bowl and pulls out a slip. She struts back to the podium and takes the tape off. "Primrose Everdeen!" I start to shake. That's me. I'm going into the Hunger Games.