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I was the child that was never meant to be. But you've got that by now. You know that my father is President Snow. But what you don't know, or rather who, is me. My mother is the woman with the blonde hair and hollow eyes standing on the stage, where our district escort will pull out the names of our tributes; once she has stopped babbling and the video has been finished.
The video is the same as it always has been, it talks about the two rebellions that broke out in Panem, the most recent one was twenty five years ago. A young girl from District twelve became the leader of the rebellion and led hundereds of people into a slaughter. I think her name was something like a cat... I've only heard her name once. She's generally refered to as 'the girl'.
The video is finished now, the anthem plays.
Do you see that man, the brown headed old man standing on the side? He raised me from a child, him and his wife. His wife was my nanny, my mother naturally wanted nothing to do with me. I don't blame her. Not a single bit. I applaud her, because I know in her heart she did the best she could for me and that involved allowing a stranger to raise me, those strangers became my mother and father. In the male side of the reaping stage are my family. Not my biological family, they are the childeren of my mother and father.
"Ladies first!" Our district escort, a small pompous woman, waddles over to the ball of female names and digs her hand in. In that ball, there is one paper containing my name, just one. I am sixteen, if I was normal then I would have my name in there the mandatory amount. But President Snow gave orders that my name only be there once, no one else knows of course, just the only people necessary do. My chances of getting picked are 10000 to 1. Just 1, but you know what happens next. You wouldn't be reading if you didn't.
You know that as our escorts hand plucks a paper from the nest in the bowl, as she peels it open ever so delicately between her slender fingers, you know her hoarse voice will shout;
"Scarlett Cadett."
You know, that I am chosen to fight in the 100th Hunger Games of Panem.
Chapter one- the reaping
I have never seen the view from the stage. How grim. All the children of our district stood together in their best clothes would be a lovely sight, if it weren't for the circumstances, but their grim faces is what makes the sight heart breaking. Usually we all look sadly at the person on the stage and try to smile out of comfort. But nobody is smiling. They all know me. I was raised collectively by the town. The childeren are my friends. I can name every single pair of eyes staring at me. They are horror struck.
"I volunteer!" A girl from the back shouts. Jenna Mclaren, a friend from school. She runs to the stage and it takes me a few moments to realise what has happened.
"No." I choke out. I won't let her do it. I know her parents, they've had me over for dinner many times and I know her brothers and sisters. They would be broken without her. The crowd looks shocked at the words I have spoken. This is the first time in history a tribute has objected to a volunteer.
"I do not accept the volunteer." I say.
"I'm not sure what the rules are on that..." The escort's sqeaky voice trails off. She sees the stern look in my eyes and shoo's Jenna away. Before she can continues, hands start shooting up from the girl's side. Each of them volunteer. I look up at the camera's looking down on the square, will Snow be watching this?
"No way," I look at them all and their hands go down. I love them all too much to let them die this year.
Haileur Dupre, our escort goes over to the boys reaping ball and quickly pulls out a piece of paper. You can tell her mind is elsewhere. The stunt before has made everyone quiet. A third of the girls and parents on the sidelines have broken down into sobs. Alone the sobs would be quiet, but collectively they are loud.
"Daniel Stepile." She coughs as if she is removing a lump from her throat.
He also goes to my school, we sit together in History. I don't have to go to school, but I choose to. He makes his way to the stage but before he steps up a brunette headed boy makes his way pushing past people to the front.
"I volunteer." Duncan Donovan. He is the eldest son of my mother and father. We never talk much. When I am there he generally mumbles a greeting and goes to his room. I am closer with his four younger siblings than him. Why he would volunteer is a mystery to me, he has no ties with Daniel that I know of. But I soon realise why he volunteered when he gets onto stage.
A look that is all he gives me. A look, but in that look I can see it all. He volunteered to protect me. Why he would want to protect me is a mystery, but I am overwhelmed with emotion. The fact that he would give is life for me is the stupidest thing he could ever do. Which is why I run across the stage before to him and hug him. I am aware of the thousands of eyes fixed on us, but I am more aware of his strong arms hugging back.
President Snow watched the footage of his daughter hugging the lowly brunette boy. A daughter of his, albeit the daughter that was never meant to be, was huging a boy of district 10. She was only born because Snow desired her mother. She was the most astonishing woman he had ever seen. She became his mistress willingly, but only for a few years. She became pregnant with his child and she was unwilling to abort it. Snow was an old man but inside he was young, that said, if the people were to find out he had fathered the child of a twenty four year old, it would be a scandal. He was a fool a fool to allow her to return to district 10 as a victor rather than stay with him, but he could not find a way to refuse her. His existance had been hollow since then. The only times he looked forward to was when she came to coach the tributes of her district for the Hunger Games. She always left their daughter at home, but when she was five she came to the games with her mother because her nanny was ill.
His daughter had been playing outside the bench where tributes sat and waited until they performed to the game makers. When Snow asked her mother, later,why she was there she merely said that Scarlett had become attatched to this years tributes.
He was on his way to see the game-makers about this years games when he noticed the little girl sitting on the bench. She looked nothing like her mother but she was beautiful in her own right. Her hair was a mixture of crimson and chocolate, she took after him. Snow didn't know who she was at first, he was only curious as to why a five year old was waiting outside the game makers room and how she managed to sneak past the peacekeepers.
"Excuse me miss?" He sat next to her. She looked up from her china doll, he was a little taken aback as he saw her aqua eyes fly up to look at him. "How did you get here?" He asked once he composed himself.
"The guards don't look for five year olds." She said slyly. For a five year old she was very mature.
"Of course," Snow just chuckled, "They aren't guards," he corrected, "they are peacekeepers."
"They don't keep much peace." She stated, then she went back to playing with the doll.
At this Snow was irked. She may have been only five but she clearly did not understand that the peace keepers were there for her own safety. "Who are you're parents?" He demanded, still keeping his voice level so not to scare her.
"Anastasia Cadett." She looked up to see him, "and my father is Coriolanus Snow."
He realised who she was at once. His daughter.
Out of all his children, he liked her the most. He took her out for an ice cream and some food, showed her around the Capitol, and bought her various different books. She especially loved the Capitol's library but was very confused as to why it was so void of people. All the time they spent together, she still did not know he was President Snow, and he didn't want her to know yet. As they walked the streets many people recognised him but didn't dare approach him, he was never to be approached without reason.
"Do you like the Capitol?" He asked her as the sat down to eat some strawberry ice cream.
"Very much so," she took a spoonful.
Snow wasn't eating any, the ice cream somehow irritated his ulcers and forced them to rupture. The advancements in medicine since the end of the rebellions meant they could sew up the ulcers to stop the blood leakage but he could no longer eat solid meals incase they ripped the seams.
"You could stay here, if you wanted." He slipped that into the conversation.
"No," She answered simply, then swung her legs back and forth, while eating another spoonful.
Snow, stuttered but managed to spit out, "why?"
"Because I can't breathe here. I can only breathe when I'm with my family."
"But your mother would be here too, she is your family." He was starting to get annoyed. He didn't understand, did she have other brothers and sisters or more family?
"My family is the whole of District 10, I wouldn't be able to breathe without them."
After that she had to keep up the conversation as Snow became lost in his own thoughts. Eventually she got tired and he carried her to the tributes apartments. Her mother had gone crazy when she realised the girl was missing, but when she opened the door to see Snow standing there with his sleeping daughter in his arms, she went ballistic. The tributes took Scarlett up to her bed, while Anastasia told him never to come back. He could have had her executed, but he decided not to, Scarlett would never forgive him if she found out her father had killed her mother. Insted he obeyed, but got certain peacekeepers to report to him on her well being. He would also have a camera trained on her only for his viewing during the Reaping. He had done his best to reduce the chances of her being chosen for the games by only allowing her name to be entered once, and even then his direct orders to the escort was to avoid the left side of the bowl as her name would be there. But somehow her name got picked, and the odds were not in his favour.
"Sir?"
Snow was snapped out of his walk down memory lane when one of his advisors turned away from the scene of his daughter and the boy standing side by side, to the President who was sitting at his desk with his hand pressing against each other in thought.
"What?" He snapped.
"Its happening again." Those simple three words sent a shiver down Snow's spine. He knew what happened last time two tributes felt that way towards each other. "We cannot allow her to become their new MockingJay."