Blossom gives a sharp intake of breath as we aprroach the front of the queue. 'They are just going to prick you to get a bit of your blood. It won't hurt' I whisper, but I can still hear her quiet whimper as she gives her blood sample. As she is herded off towards the other 12 year olds, I watch her from a clump of 14 year olds. It is stupid, making everybody come when it is clear who will be chosen. The odds are tight on the betting today.

District 11's escort, Liliana Glow, saunters onto the stage, with her crazy Capitol look. Her face has been implanted with glitter, so that it glows in an unnatural way. Our new mayor, Mayor Hirst, reads the Treaty of Treason, the rules of the Hunger Games. Liliana Glow takes the microphone one again, and announces, 'Our first tribute!' She pulls out one of the eight sheets of paper from the single reaping bowl, and announces, 'Azalea Rhodes.' The crowd claps lightly as I walk onto the stage.

'Fabulous, fabulous,' Liliana smirks. 'How old are you deary?'

'Fourteen,' I mumble.

'Wonderful,' continues Liliana. 'And now for our next tribute,' snagging another piece of paper, she reads, 'Blossom Rhodes.' Her hands clenched in fists, she shuffles slowly to the stage, and up the set of steps. She goes straight into my arms. The other names are a blur, as I wrap Blossom tightly in my arms.

When the reaping has finally finished, Peacekeepers march us into the Justice Building. Our Justice Building is tiny and shabby, the room I am left is huge, furnished with rich velvet. This is the time for us to say goodbye to our loved ones. Yet nobody comes. Nobody but Blossom loves me.

An hour later, a Peacekeeper collects me, and takes me to a truck behind the building. I've never ridden in a truck before, so I savour the ride to the station. The other tributes sit around me, all of us breathing deeply, gradually in time with each other. Blossom rests her head on my shoulder, but I slowly shrug her away. I hope she understands me. I need people to fear me, to stay away from me, so they stay away from Blossom.

The truck journey drags out, but the smooth motion gives lulls me into a sense of calm. But all of that is interrupted when we arrive at the station. A Peacekeeper grabs us and pulls us onto the platform. 'Get out, TRAITORS,' he sneers. I oblige.

The station is crowded with merchants, who can afford the time off to watch us go. They look at us, eyes wide, with despair and sympathy. District 11 was one of the only Districts in fully-fledged rebellion. I can see scars forming from whippings and torture.

We are pushed onto the train, and I stand in the doorway, staring into their faces. I am more than relieved when the doors pull shut and the train speeds off.

Author note: Looking for a beta reader so please PM if interested. Probably can't update much so please be patient. Also, please submit tributes if you want.