Thank you to all of the reviews I received last chapter, which was three. I realize that I sort of brushed over the death scene, but I promise that from now on the deaths will appear like a bigger deal regarding the story. However, I'm not going to give up on the backgrounds, because I feel like those help you connect to the characters just as well if they were helping Katniss in the arena (i.e. Rue, Thresh). In my mind, it also makes up for the fact that they weren't given names. Now, it's the boy from District 7.

If it had been any other day, I would have been in the woods with my cousin, Stayn, helping him cut down the trees we had spent our whole lives around. Instead, we were standing side by side at the reaping for the 74th Hunger Games.

People often confused the two of us for twins, which would be incrediable easy to do. Stayn had always made a huge fuss when people said as much, but I don't think he truly minded. My name, when people had still treated me as a living, breathing person, was Kasey. As if being called my cousin's twin hadn't been annoying enough at times, being told that my name was actually a girl's was even worse. Having to explain it could be either only to be laughed at for trying was the height of embarrassment.

Our escort, Meena Pula, who looked exactly like what I would imagine a personification of the Capitol would look like, was on stage at the moment, building "suspense" in an already tense enviroment, but for an entirely different reason. I had quickly spared a glance around, not realizing my mistake in that until it was far too late.

Everyone looked exactly as I felt: angry, scared, sad, and helpless. It made my heart ache and stomach drop to the deepest pits of the coldest places the spirit can fall.

Meena walked over to the ball, overflowing with the names of young women, one of whom was about to be sent to her presumed death. Meena practically danced to the waiting microphone with a name in her hand as her endless amount of jewels clanged loudly against each other. Then in a cheerful voice, she announced, "Salia Rasco."

I could hear groans and whispers around me as well as the normal stiffled cries at a reaping, probably from the poor girl's family. Stayn was one of those who groaned, apparently having known her. I looked over and could see her trapped in the typical just-been-reaped shock. I couldn't help the sympathy and pity that my heart sent out to her and her family.

Salia took the stage, still obviously stuck in the daze, and Meena pranced over to the boys' ball, like she hadn't just drawn the slip of paper that was practically a death certificate in its own right. The boys' ball was overflowing with names the same way the girls' was, each slip holding a life in its black ink. Her hand dove in and dug around for a moment, before pulling out one slip. Smiling with the painted Capitol lips, she announced, "Kasey Till."

Stayn grabbed my hand, as if that simple action would keep me in District 7 though I was now condemned to die in the Capitol. Even as every part of me was screaming and crying, I gave him a sad smile, shook my head, and peeled his hand off of mine. I walked up onto the stage, and looked out over the crowd. What I felt under their gaze was an indescribable, beautiful punch in the stomach as I realized the impact of the Games. I case a sidelong glance over at Salia, coming to the knowledge that if I wanted to live, I would have to kill her.

After the crowd finished clapping for us when no volunteers came forward, we were led off to the Justice building to await the goodbyes of our closest friends and family. I couldn't help but smile. At least the crowd that had been clapping for me a few minutes ago, filled both with people I've known forever and never met, would always remember that Kasey Till was a boy.

I sat in a worn, though still plush, chair as I waited to see who would come. As I had suspected, Stayn walked through the doors. I stood and we just looked at each other for a moment, not knowing how to say goodbye. I started to see a little more of the truth in the words of everyone who had ever claimed us twins. We had become closer than borthers, probably for the simple fact we practically were. My parents died of a flu epidemic when I was three. My aunt and uncle too care of me.

Then all of a sudden he walked forward, and grabbed me in a wordless hug. After about a minute, he pulled back with tears in his eyes that were the same shade of green as mine, "I-I...I wanted to volunteer, but..."

I shook my head, "I get it. I would have done the same thing."

He nodded, taking my words as the truth, which they were. We just stared at each other until Peacekeepers came to get him, his silence and look in his eyes saying more to me than his poor work with words ever could have.

My aunt stepped in, practically dragging my drunk uncle behind her. It wasn't hard to guess why he was drunk. She sobbed into my chest about how much she had failed her sister (my mother). I spent hte entire three minutes I had with them comforting her and watching my uncle send me pitiful stares.

The Peacekeepers came and got them as well, and by the looks on the faces of the men dressed in white, they were used to this type of situation. Whatever a type of situation with a drunk man and hysterical woman would be classified as. The next and last person who had come in was someone I had never seen before.

He was a young man, younger than me, looking about fourteen, and when he walked in the room, the first thing he did when the doors closed was ask, "How much do you want to live?"

I was taken aback by the boldness of him, "Doesn't everybody?"

"Really think about it."

For some strange reason, I did. I reaslized that no matter how much. I loved my aunt, uncle, and Stayn, I really didn't want to live. I didn't want to be continually pressured under this weight of obedience from the Capitol. He seemed to know this, and smiled accordingly, "I thought so."

"What do you care?"

"I can't ask my sister that question. My borther and sister would gut me. I can ask you, however. Do you ever think about how one person's life can impact others?"

I nodded, "All the time. You're Salia's brother?"

It was his turn to nod, "She would never listen to me, though I think she already knows. She's going to die in the games."

"What's your point?"

"You've just admitted you have nothing to live for. That probably means you're not going to put much of an effort into actually doing anything," he shrugged. "Why not save the life of someone else if you don't want to save your own?"

I thought about it for a moment, "Go on."

Something in his eyes came to life, "What I'm proposing is when you're in the Capitol and training, find someone to keep safe, and work for that. Try to keep them safe and alive at the very least. Make sure someone decent wins the games this time. That doesn't happen very often."

The Peacekeepers entered as if on cue, and grabbed him by the arm. I felt as if I had to say something, so I said, "I promise. I will try to help."

Once again I was alone, and somehow I knew no one would be coming to say goodbye anymore. I had no one else to say goodbye to, as confirmed by the doors that opened again. It was five Peacekeepers waiting to rage me away if they must. I wouldn't have given them the satisfaction for anything. I walked down to the waiting train, feeling as if my life had already ended.

The experience of the train was amazing in a horrid way. It was as if they were trying too hard to make us feel better about being sent to our deaths. I was sitting on my bed, picking at a small thread loose on the sheets, when Johanna Mason walked in.

Everyone knows her as a victor of District 7. All of District 7 knows her as the girl who survived the games. In more recent years, we hadn't even come close to survival, and it looked as if we never would again. She was always mentoring alone. Anyone who had any sense would stay away from the Capitol, but Johanna always volunteered to go.

I could feel her eyes on me, but I refused to yield and look up. If she was annoyed by that, she gave no indication. She shut the door and leaned up against it, "You don't expect to live, do you?"

I shook my head and she sighed, "I won't try to reason with you, but if you have your heart set on it, there's nothing more I can do for you. I just wish people, both in District 7 and the Capitol, would realize that the tributes actually have to be willling to live for them to have a victor from our district. It's the same every year. People not willing to try."

With that, she walked out. I never spoke to Johanna Mason again.

Dinner later that night was awesome, made of the best food I had ever allowed to hit my tongue. Everything was full of flavor to the point of overloading my tastebuds. I loved it.

I wanted the train ride to last forever. Even though it was a ride of anxiety, even though no one I loved was with me, it was the best time of my life. When it ended, I was laying on my bed, facing the ceiling. I felt us slow and eventually come to a stop. I knew that if I were to open the closed curtains of my cabin, I would see the Capitol in all of its wealthy excess and flamboyant glory. It's not a sight I was looking forward to.

I knew I had to leave the cabin and join the others, though, so I got up and walked off of the train. The scene before me was unimaginable.

The Capitol was even more crazy that I had initially given them credit for. There were lights glittering everywhere, and people dressed up in the most insane costumes, though they probably knew them as everyday attire. We were immediately led to...pretty much a beautification center. We were there so they could make us look pretty for the cameras.

When I happened to get a glance at Salia, I noticed she was still in a daze. She had probably already succumed to level of insanity. Poor girl. Killing her was probably going to be a mercy. Euthanasia.

After a team of mindless designers and beauticians, I was finally ready for our grand entrance into the start of the preparation week before the 74th Hunger Games. As usual, Salia and I were dressed as trees. Each year, every designer for District 7 would swear they could make us look different than all the rest, but there's only so many ways you can change a tree.

Our introduction to the entirety of Panem was extremely dim, especially compared to District 12. They were on fire, quite literally. We weren't going to get any sponsers from this humiliation.

The next day, I woke to Meena telling me to get up and get ready for training. I did and didn't enjoy that day, or any of the following in the slightest. I found no one I wanted to protect or could protect without getting stabbed in the back. I was going to have to wait until I got into the arena to decide who to protect, to decide who should win.

The day finally arrived and we were dressed in simple black attire, fit for any type of environment the arena could throw at us. My stylist, who had such a weird name I could never hope to remember it, practically threw me into my glass tube. I was lifted into the arena, and got a terrifying look at the arena, finally realizing that this was it. This was where my life would end.

I looked around at the other tributes. The Careers were already signaling to each other, their alliances formed long ago. The girl from District 12, Katniss, I think, was looking at the boy from her district. A little girl from District 11 was looking around for a quick escape. She looked most likely like the one I would want to protect, but I would need supplies before I could give her real protection.

I looked at the terrain surrounding me. A field? That wouldn't help at all. I'm not used to fields. I looked over to the left of that and saw a forest. Yes. That was perfect. Beautiful, green trees. Perfect protection from both the other tributes and the elements if I can use them right.

I looked at the Cornucopia, forcing my feet to stay in place as much as they wanted to run forward. I know for a fact I'm faster than many of these people. I can get there. I spy quite a few helpful things in the mouth of the Cornucopia, calling to me. Oh, yes. I can do this.

The countdown is still going when my mind suddenly drifts off to my family back home, and how they're probably watching me, just like Salia's family. Her little brother wouldn't be disappointed. I was going to help someone win.

The final five seconds of the countdown finish with the gong and I jumped off my platform and ran forward, keeping my balance unlike the girl next to me, who fell right over. I was sprinting with all of my might, and I was the first one to arrive. My hands immediately dove into the immense array of help before me, seeking out the best. I could hear footsteps approaching, and didn't think anything of it.

That was my fatal mistake. I got so caught up in the fact that there was stuff before me, I didn't remember that the footsteps, grunts, and squishy sounds behind me were death. Real death. My death.

I felt large, sweaty, warm hands go around my neck. I didn't have much time to fight before it happened. I remember looking down at the ground as seeing feet, one crippled. That's when I remembered with a sudden crumbling feeling in my stomach that the boy from District 10 had a crippled foot. He was going to kill me.

His large hands twisted and I felt an instant, blinding flash of pain and then nothing but black, cold numbness sweep over my body. The boy from District 10 had broken my neck. The cripple had killed me.

Failure had never hurt so much. I couldn't keep anyone alive. I couldn't keep my promise to Salia's brother, whom I realize now I had never learned the name of. Before death enveloped me completely within it's freezing clutches, I sent a curse upon the Capitol, and wished it a hard fall with all of my remaining strength, which wasn't very much, unfortunately.

Hopefully the curse takes into account it was my dying thought.

Review, and I'm sorry the death scene was so short, but for some of these people, it's hard to make them long. They die so quickly when the games start, it's hard to keep them alive.