There are thirteen districts. There is the glittering Capitol, inhabited with rich, loyal citizens. Seventy-two years of this.
Seventy-two years of the Hunger Games.
It's always horrible. Sending in young children only to watch them die? The Capitol is inhumane. The Capitol is cruel and merciless. The Capitol is the reason we suffer, the reason we watch year after year of kids fighting to the death. And yet we obey.
We are the thirteen districts of Panem.
Only twelve of the thirteen districts participate in the Hunger Games; District Thirteen was obliterated in the Dark Days, during the war. All that's left of it are the still-smoking bits of rubble, toxic and dangerous. At least, that's what they want you to think.
But I know better.
In the corner of each update on District Thirteen is a mockingjay; it flies off the screen every single time.
Every single time, the exact same way, in the exact same spot, and always twenty-three seconds in.
I've given up trying to convince my friends and family that the Capitol is worth overthrowing because they refuse to agree, and it's no use saying those things anyways. The Capitol would arrange a 'tragic, accidental' death for me just to shut me up. Because they know it's true. But no one defies the Capitol. Especially not silly fifteen year-old girls.
I live in District Four; our industry is fishing. We have a few Victors here, but the three most commonly known ones are Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, and an old woman simply known as Mags. Finnick and Mags are usually the mentors for the Games because Annie went mad after her Games. Honestly, I don't trust any of them, but I don't trust anyone, really. Except my older brother James. He's nineteen, and successfully made it out of the required reapings without getting his name drawn. He's very strong and kind; he's getting married to a beautiful girl in a week.
Well, eight days. A week after the next reaping.
I'm sitting in the small boat crafted by my grandfather with my fishing pole deep under the sea. I had been watching the sun rise, but it was now well in the sky. I had caught eight fish so far; I was working on my ninth. I liked the moments where I could go out on the boat alone to fish. Fishing is usually something of a man's work in District Four, since the women usually prepare the fish and craft things out of shells and whatnot. But I like fishing. It's relaxing.
